Chapter 2 Octavia #2
“Yes, I understand. You’re a busy man and a pro athlete. I get it.” I could tell he was trying to test me, work me up a bit, because that last part was definitely a dickish thing for him to say.
His lips twisted as he regarded me. “And you are CPR certified?”
“I sure am. I have the certificate in my car if you want to see—”
“Why do you really want to do this?” he asked, cutting me off.
“Do what? Take care of your daughter?”
“Yes. I look at you, and I do not see a woman who wants to be stuck somewhere for months, taking care of another person’s child. I have had many people want this job, only to be in it for something.”
“Well, I can guarantee you, I’m not in this for anything other than to take care of her and get paid,” I assured him, huffing a laugh.
Bluey squealed in the background as we held a staring match.
He blinked first.
“I would not want any images of her being taken,” he went on. “I would need someone who respects her privacy and mine. Someone we can trust.”
“Understandable. I’ve signed NDAs before. If you need me to do that for you, I’m more than okay with it.”
He narrowed his eyes, assessing me further. What? Was he annoyed that I was okay with everything? Homeboy could take his best shots. I’d heard it all.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “My issue with you is that you seem to not take anything seriously in life. It seems to all be some sort of game to you, as if you can just laugh your way through every problem and make them go away.”
I frowned at his statement. Fucking ouch.
“My daughter’s care is important,” he pressed on. “I travel a lot, so I cannot be here to hold your hand. That means I need someone responsible and dependable . . . and a part of me is not sure I can fully depend on a person like you.”
“A person like me? Not to be rude, but you don’t even know me.”
“Exactly. All I know is that you are my best friend’s fiancée’s sister.”
“And all I know is that you are my sister’s fiancé’s best friend. You could be a serial killer, for all I know, but I took the risk anyway by showing up.”
He scowled. “I am not a serial killer.”
I smirked. “Prove it.”
His scowl deepened. “How the hell does someone even prove that? What am I supposed to do, dig up holes and show you that I do not have bodies in the ground?”
I shrugged.
“How would I even have time to do any of tha—you know what? Never mind.” He flicked his hand, as if dismissing it all, but I didn’t miss the way his cheeks reddened.
Davina was right. He was easy to embarrass. Almost too easy, really.
“Would you be one hundred percent committed to the position?” he asked, sounding entirely fed up. “That means traveling when necessary, taking Aleesa to her classes and appointments, making sure her meals are healthy, and making sure she gets enough exercise daily.”
“I’m one hundred percent committed.”
“Good.” The word was cut and dried. “Because I expect and want the very best for her.”
“Yes, I can tell by that unicorn headband you’re wearing. Only the best of dads would willingly wear that.”
Confusion contorted his face, but when what I said registered, he reached up and snatched the headband off.
I suppressed another laugh.
“See, this is what I mean,” he exclaimed, but not too loudly for Aleesa to hear. “Nothing is taken seriously by you.”
“If that’s how you feel, why did you have me come all this way to be interviewed?”
“Because I wanted to know my options . . . and see who I was really dealing with. So far, I am not impressed and am regretting that I ever asked. I do not have time for these mind games.”
Oh, boy. I leaned back in my chair just as Aleesa shot up with her Popsicle stick.
“I done!” she yelled. She rushed to the trash can and threw the stick into the bin, then she scurried my way and tugged on my N.W.A T-shirt.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Octavia,” I answered with a smile.
“Octava,” she said.
I laughed. Most kids her age struggled with my name. “How about you just call me Tavia?”
“Tava,” she said, trying to repeat.
“That works too.” I gave her a wink, and she grinned before wrapping her arms around me as best she could. Then she peered up and, once again, asked, “Can you play wif me?”
“What about Bluey, Leesa?” Javier asked, pointing over his shoulder at the TV. He gave her a sweet smile.
“No. I wan’ play wif Tava.”
Javier looked from his daughter to me, trying his best to suppress another scowl.
I shrugged. “Kids really love me.”
With an irritated sigh, he sat up taller in his chair.
“Fine. I will take you on, but only because my schedule is about to get busier and I need someone to look after her right away. But if you mess up even once, Octavia, you are gone.” He raised a stern finger.
“One strike is all you will get from me. Is that clear?”
“Sir, yes sir,” I answered, giving him a mock salute.
He growled something in Spanish as he pushed out of his chair. “I leave for Boston Monday night. Since you say you can start as soon as possible, I will want you here on Sunday so that we can go over contracts and agreements. Can you do that?”
“Sure.”
“Good.” He cut a glance at Aleesa, who had managed to climb onto my lap and started playing with my locs.
“I love you hair, Tava,” she cooed, running her fingers over one of the gold jewels.
“Thank you, angel.”
“Where will you sleep?” he asked.
“Oh, I’ll probably just book a hotel for the night.”
He shook his head. “Do not waste your money on a hotel. I have a guesthouse you can use. I will show it to you after you finish playing with Aleesa.”
“Aww.” I smiled at him. “See, I knew I could unthaw that heart of yours a little bit. Thank you, Javier.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thirty minutes to play with her, then you go.” He walked to the living room and slumped down on one of the sofas.
“Noted,” I mumbled.
Yay! At least I had the job. Still, I had to be careful.
I had no doubt he would fire me in a heartbeat if I so much as coughed near Aleesa.
He was a hard-ass, but it was fine. I’d dealt with my fair share of assholes.
It helped that he would be traveling often, so I wouldn’t have to see him so much or be in the midst of his grouchiness.
Aleesa watched him for a few seconds, then she turned her gaze to mine and grinned. “Daddy’s mad,” she whispered.
That statement pulled a quiet giggle out of me.
Yeah. I was definitely going to have some fun with this little girl.