Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ronnie
My hand shakes with nerves as I open the back door to Sean’s house and Jimmy and I enter through a mud room. I barely get the kid’s coat off before he runs off calling for Dasher who answers with wild yipping.
Heading into the kitchen, I see an envelope propped against a vase of flowers on the slick island.
When the hell did he have a chance to go out and get flowers since I saw him yesterday?
I move through the room to the island slowly, as if my presence here is an intrusion and any disturbance will somehow leave a mark.
The envelope has my name on it, written in strong bold lettering. His handwriting is exactly like he is. Jimmy comes sliding into the room with Dasher in his arms.
“I got him out of the cage Mommy. I think he needs to go outside.”
The envelope will have to wait for later. After we bundle up again, we take Dasher outside, but we end up staying in the yard while Dasher runs around and Jimmy uses up all the energy he has stored up from a day at school. When we go back inside, Jimmy asks, “Can we stay here, Mommy?”
“For a little while. I have a few things I want to do in the kitchen. Do you think you can sit quietly with Dasher in the family room and play?”
Nodding his head, he doesn’t bother wasting another second and runs into the family room, sliding on his knees with Dasher chasing after him.
“Take it easy in there, honey. We need to take care of Sean’s things.” Even if he doesn’t care much about them.
I finally have a chance to open that envelope and when I do, my stomach flips and my heart explodes into a drumroll that won’t quit.
There’s a note—along with a stack of cash. My hands vibrate with nerves as I pull the fresh green bills from the envelope.
Hundreds. He’s left me I don’t know how many hundred-dollar bills. What the hell?
My palpitations calm enough so I can think straight. I’ve never even seen this kind of money in my life. Not even in the rare occasions I’ve gone into a bank. Counting out the bills, there’s a thousand dollars, ten crisp hundreds.
I sit down on the nearest kitchen stool and put my head in my hands.
I need to think about this. It’s a lot of money and I could use it.
Way more than Sean can since he evidently has lots to spare.
But I know it’s not right to take it. It’s too much.
I made a promise to myself long ago about what I would and wouldn’t do for money and taking money from a generous man who wants to give it to me for seemingly no good reason was one of those things.
Because I don’t need anyone to tell me that there’s always a reason—always strings attached. The kind of strings that would make me feel like a bought woman, not my own person. Dependent and owned. Especially since Sean’s made no secret of his attraction to me.
Problem is, I seem to have a similar attraction.
Rolling my eyes at the empty kitchen, I snort a laugh.
I’m ridiculous. If Sean were anyone else, someone normal—a plumber or a construction worker—someone from my side of the city, the side that’s still blue collar, then I might follow-up on that chemistry and see what it’s all about.
As it is, with him being a famous gazillionaire used to getting everything—and everyone—he wants, I can’t let myself go there. No matter how excitable I get every time I think of him.
The money? I’ll have to leave it behind.
Or most of it. I’ll take what’s owed to me for dog-sitting and leave the rest. He needs to understand this is a professional arrangement--for dog-sitting only.
When a guy hires a person, a stranger, for dog-sitting, he doesn’t pay a thousand dollars for a few hours work.
Sean definitely has something else in mind for me.
Thing is, I should be appalled. I should feel offended. But all I can muster is a tingle of what-if every time I remember his strong arms around me, his warm breath close and steamy.
Jimmy squeals at Dasher in the next room, startling me back to reality.
Unfolding the paper, the shakiness in my hands gone, I finally feel calm and resolved enough to read it.
Hi Ronnie,
I bet you’re wondering what all this cash is for.
Well, I’ll tell you. I looked up the fees for in-home pet sitting and figured with you working every day this week and staying over Friday night, I’d owe you—and your assistant Jimmy—a thousand dollars for about twenty hours of work each.
Plus expenses. Let me know what your expenses are at the end of the week.
The flowers are for you because … you deserve them.
Please make yourself at home and wait for me. There’s ingredients for cake—I told my housekeeper to make sure to stock up on those ingredients this morning. So feel free to make a cake. And anything else you want. I’ll call you on my way home about seven o’clock.
See you later, Sean
I hold the paper tightly as a giddy wave takes me. Sean Patrick. I don’t know what to think anymore. He’s impossible. He’s thought of everything. He’s made it tough for me to say no. Uncomfortable for me to say yes.
Except if I picture his smile, his strength, his joy, his lips on mine, his hands on me, the way he holds me against his beautiful body.
Then I want him far more than I want his money.
Looking up, I watch Jimmy sitting on the plush carpet in the large yet comfortable family room and know I need to accept the fee for dog-sitting services and keep my relationship with Sean as businesslike as possible.
For my sanity, for my self-respect and for my survival.
Swiping my hands through my hair, long and unruly waves, I stand.
If it’s cake he wants, it’s cake he’ll get.
And dinner too. He’s paying a deluxe fee, so I’ll give him deluxe service.
Checking the refrigerator and pantry for ingredients, I decide to make him a lasagna for dinner to go with his cake.
But no way am I sticking around until he comes home. He’s too dangerous, too unnerving. He makes me feel like a butterfly pinned inside a frame like a specimen. Like a freak, albeit an admired freak. It’s not how I want to feel even if it’s who I am.
Never mind that sneaking off makes me feel like a coward. I’m no coward. I’ll leave him a note. I’ll do the work and take the fee, but only if I can withstand his charm. Only if I can be my own person.
The fact that he has two ovens makes my job easy—a joy.
The cake is first—and easy—my special recipe.
Then I make peanut butter sandwiches for me and Jimmy while we wait for the lasagna to finish cooking.
The smell of lasagna teases me and my stomach, the taste and satisfaction of peanut butter no match for the delicious scent filling the kitchen.
Jimmy feeds Dasher a piece of his crust under the counter and I laugh at him. The television shows cartoons in the background and I feel like I’m in some kind of fairytale.
“Now this is a picture to come home to.” Sean Patrick’s voice booms, snapping me from whatever pretend world I was in as he walks through the door from the garage. I look at the clock. He’s early, the bastard.
He may as well be carrying a blow torch the way he heats me up. Instantly. I feel foolish, and yet knowing I’m ridiculous for feeling giddy doesn’t erase the effect. I stand straight and try to calm my grin into a smile, try not to let him know he’s turned me to jello just walking into the room.
“You’re early. I thought you were—”
“It smells like heaven in here.” He walks straight for me and Jimmy jumps from his chair and goes to him.
We end up in a group hug as if we’re a family and the dizziness of unreality hits me.
This can’t be. It’s not real. He’s not mine.
Not even close. No matter how strong the attraction is between us, that’s all it is.
An unholy attraction to a man who’s paying me for a job.
Being his employee is more important than being his lover. I escape from his hold, trying not to offend him or make a big deal of it.
“I made dinner for you. It was the least I could do.” I take Jimmy’s hand. “Go wash up, Jimmy, then we have to get home.” The kiddo gives me a disappointed look, but I give him my Mom look back and he scoots to the bathroom.
To give Sean credit, he waits until Jimmy is gone to touch my hand.
“Stay,” he says, quietly. If he’d been demanding, I’d have been able to work up some righteous indignation, but his quiet invitation, the boyish plea, undoes me, though not completely
“I can’t. It’s not cool. You’re my employer. Speaking of which—you’re paying me too much.” I can’t let him sway me. I can’t let him buy me, own me.
“No, I’m not. I looked up dog-sitting services. I’m paying for what I need. And I truly need your help, You and Jimmy are really bailing me out.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Which part?”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “The part about the dog-sitting service fees being this high.”
“I’ll prove it to you.” He walks to the built-in desk and throws open the laptop computer sitting there and punches some keys.
Since school I’ve had only minimal experience with using computers and the internet, mostly at work.
I usually stick to working with the animals.
Seeing him easily master the electronic beast intimidates the hell out of me. God I’m so pathetic.
Picking up the computer, he brings it to the counter and shows me the screen. It shows the website of an elite pet sitting service in Boston and the fees they charge for various services.
“Shit.” I blow out a whistle. “They’re thieves.”
He laughs. “So now you don’t feel so bad about accepting your fee?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m no thief.”
“No, but I trust you and Jimmy and no amount of money can pay for the kind of loving care I know you’ll give Dasher.”
“You got me there.”