CHAPTER ELEVEN
My sharp gaze searches the dimly lit interior of Sip in the Stacks. According to my bank notifications, a certain redhead just paid a ridiculous amount for what this place has to offer. That approved charge led me straight to her. It’s almost like Frankie wants me to hunt her down.
When the first floor doesn’t expose her location, I stalk to the second level. That’s where she’s curled up on an oversized leather chair in a semi-secluded nook. Tall bookshelves provide the illusion of an escape from the outside world.
Frankie is captivated by the paperback that’s spread open on her lap. That allows me to watch her undetected for a minute. Auburn hair the shade of roaring flames cascades around her like a shield. She’s beautiful in a way that’s untouchable. If I dare to get too close, I’ll immediately regret it.
That doesn’t mean I can’t admire her from a safe distance. Tight denim and leather protects most of her from my stare. She wiggles a pen between her fingers while reading, completely unaware of her audience. This appears to be her element and I’m getting sucked in.
Rather than surrender to the pull, I force my attention to shift.
There’s a large drink on the table next to her with entirely too much whipped cream.
A bag overflowing with craft supplies is on the floor.
Several books are piled in a tote. I find myself contemplating how she’ll get all this home on her bike. But she’s nothing if not resourceful.
That thought gives me pause. It’s only then I recall how little I actually know about her. Maybe it’s time to change that. For Ronnie’s sake, of course.
“Is that the best you can do, menace?”
Frankie startles at my voice in the otherwise quiet space. Her shocked expression smooths over almost instantly, replaced with her typical indifference. “Is that how you usually greet a woman? No wonder you’re single.”
I almost laugh. She always has a snarky comeback waiting for me. It’s impressive.
Without being invited to sit, I take the empty chair that’s angled toward hers. “What’re you doing here?”
Frankie huffs. “Minding my own business, which is more than I can say for you.”
There’s no controlling my laughter now. It’s loud and booming and gains the attention of a couple who are several hideouts away. “Call me curious, but I couldn’t help wondering how someone spends four hundred dollars at a coffee shop.”
“They sell a lot more than coffee,” she retorts like the crack of a whip.
“And that makes it more reasonable?”
“Obviously.” She suddenly goes still. “Where’s Ronnie?”
“Took you long enough,” I scold. “She’s at a sleepover. I just dropped her off.”
“Why didn’t I hear about it?”
“You’re a shit nanny.”
Frankie’s flinch is incredibly satisfying. “Gonna fire me?”
“Nah, but you’re gonna tell me what you spent my money on.”
“Thought I could use it for whatever I need?”
“Spit it out already.” The underlying rumble in my tone reveals my growing irritation.
Her eyes roll hard enough to pop out of their sockets. “I bought a round for the whole place.”
“You bought a round… at a coffee shop?”
She shrugs. “Figured it would earn some brownie points from the locals.”
“At my expense.”
“You offered,” she reminds.
“Not what I had in mind.”
“Should’ve thought of that before handing it over without limits. You’re practically begging me to max out your card.”
“I dare you to try.”
“There you go again,” she taunts.
“Dammit!” I bellow in return, frustration bubbling over in an uncontrolled wave. “Always got something to say.”
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” She mimics rubbing cash between her thumb and first two fingers.
“I’m not paying you to ruin my boots.”
Frankie doesn’t so much as blink at my swerve in subject, keeping her neutral expression locked in. “More like improved them.” Her fiery green gaze inspects the doodles branded into custom leather that can’t be easily replaced. “Are you actually mad?”
“Would it matter either way?”
She makes a noncommittal noise. “If you’re asking me, it looks like you’re wearing them with pride. Ronnie worked hard and you’re showing it off. Just one more symbol of ideal fatherhood.”
I stare at the designs covering my boots, refusing to acknowledge her assumption. “Why’d you do it?”
“I’m a shit nanny,” she quips.
“What does that have to do with purposely destroying my property?”
“Just delivered the next notch in our revenge plot.”
“This”—I tap my heels together—“was to get back at me?”
“Sound familiar?” Her left shoulder hitches. “You made the rules, or lack thereof.”
“Revenge,” I mumble. “Such a fickle concept.”
“It’s your turn. Take it or leave it.”
I scowl. “You’re responsible for taking care of my daughter. This isn’t a game.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Our salty bickering is going nowhere fast. My gaze drifts, searching for even ground. I jut my chin at the book still in her lap.
“What’re you reading?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re nosy?” She tries to hide the cover, but I catch the title.
“Art Projects for Kids,” I recite.
Her complexion blazes red-hot to match her hair. “Couldn’t hurt to be better at my job. Just said so yourself.”
My heart thuds, and then begins racing. So much for avoiding bumpy subjects. Dammit, I cannot get soft. This woman is a snake. She called herself one.
“I take it back,” I mutter. “You’re not a shit nanny.”
“That means so much coming from you.” The drip of sarcasm in her voice is worse than a leaky faucet.
“Believe it or not, I’m willing to admit when I’m wrong.”
“Real nice.” Once again, the jab in her tone betrays her.
“Can you say the same, menace?”
Her lips flatten into an irked line. “I’m rarely wrong.”
“Is that attitude what landed you behind bars? Remind me,” I drawl. “How many times have you been arrested?”
“Don’t you have better things to do than bother me?”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I volley.
“You didn’t answer mine.”
“Ladies first.” I tip the brim of my cowboy hat.
Frankie snorts as if the concept of me being a gentleman is outrageous. “It’s a bit late for a background check.”
“I’m curious, remember?” Which serves to remind me that we’re little more than strangers and I had a hankering to fix that. “We can take this opportunity to get to know each other. That being said, how familiar are you with the inside of a jail cell?”
“Three stints worth mentioning.” She holds up as many fingers, but then lowers the outer two. The middle one is left to flip me off.
“What’s the worst crime you’ve committed?”
“When do I get to ask the questions?”
“After you provide me with a satisfying answer.”
Her gaze burns into mine and I’m sure she’s picturing bodily harm. “Armed robbery and intimidation were my specialties. I got locked up for almost two years after a job went sideways. Haven’t stolen shit since. Happy?”
“Nah, but I appreciate your honesty.”
“My turn.” She straightens, pinning me with too much intensity. “What do you do for fun?”
“Work.”
“How do you unwind from that?”
“Spend time with my daughter. I don’t need more.”
She makes a thoughtful noise. “What would you be doing if you weren’t here?”
Nothing worthwhile. Not that I’ll tell her that.
For whatever reason, I was compelled to follow Frankie’s trail after getting that notification. Going back to an empty house didn’t appeal to me. My office at the auction barn would’ve been worse. This option isn’t as daunting. Not sure what that says about me.
“I’d probably be out feeding the horses right about now.” Not a complete lie.
But Frankie’s squint doesn’t appear satisfied. “Why don’t you date?”
“Not interested in adding more complications to my schedule.” That’s also mostly true.
“Do you have any friends?”
I grunt, ready to put her on blast for being a brat.
Talk about a bold assumption. But the question gives me pause.
The truth is that most of them quit calling after Ronnie was born.
A few stuck around to support me through the struggle of adapting to parenthood while simultaneously grieving my wife, but those connections are long gone now.
A weary sigh breezes from my lips. It’s pathetic to admit that I don’t have a social life to speak of beyond my daughter’s activities. I’m only thirty-four, but most days I feel ancient. Disconnected. Irrelevant. Maybe the lack of adult interactions is finally getting to me.
Should I give her the power those truths will provide?
Frankie raises her brows, twisting the knife of her latest low blow.
“None that I like,” I find myself admitting.
“What about Chance?”
“My brother?”
“Do you know another?”
I scoff. “We don’t really get along.”
“Why’s that?” Her head tilts as if she really wants to know.
Which is why my guard lowers further. “He doesn’t like me. I’m more of a parent than a sibling.”
“Have you tried bridging the gap?”
“There’s no point. I’m his boss too, which only makes things worse. Besides that, we’re too different.” And those clashes far exceed the nine years separating us.
Frankie nods slowly. “Walker is my polar opposite. Most of the time, I can’t believe we’re related.”
My eyes narrow as I watch her from under the shadow of my hat. “Have you gone to visit him in prison?”
“Just once, shortly after that whole ordeal. He chose his path. I’ve made my peace with that.” Her shrug appears too casual for the topic of conversation.
“Turning over a new leaf, huh?”
“Trying,” she mumbles, lifting the crafting book for emphasis.
“She’ll appreciate the effort.”
“Do you?”
I almost laugh. “Are you that desperate for approval?”
Frankie’s features harden into stone. “I thought we were mending fences. My mistake.”
A gruff sound of disbelief scrapes from me. “You’ll have to try harder than that to win me over, but it’s a decent start.”
“Listen,” she exhales. “Believe what you want, but I care about Ronnie. She’s proved to feel pretty strongly about me too.
That’s not something I’ve had before. Nobody has ever fought for me.
I’ve never been wanted beyond selfish means.
” Another loud sigh. “Now that I’ve experienced a tiny taste, I don’t know how I survived without.
But I guess that’s what I’ve been doing.
Barely surviving. I won’t jeopardize the gift she’s giving me or take it for granted or do anything to hurt her.
At least not on purpose. A girl could get used to such genuine kindness. You can trust me not to run from it.”
There’s an unmistakable clench in my chest. I avert my gaze, avoiding the unmasked vulnerability in hers. Something tells me Francesca Keller doesn’t expose weakness often. That knowledge sparks emotions I haven’t felt in years.
“Good speech,” I mutter.
Frankie scoffs and crosses her arms, rebuilding the wall between us. “Are you done bothering me?”
“Hardly.”
“I’m certain you have better things to do.” The defensive hostility in her tone doesn’t penetrate my thermal flannel or motivate me to leave.
“Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?”
“Aside from the fact we’ve been arguing since you sat down?” She mutters under her breath about stubborn cowboys who need to read the room.
That could be taken as an invitation. But fuck, I shouldn’t tease this temptress. She’s already proven how quickly she can unravel me. That doesn’t stop the words from free-falling.
“Are you uncomfortable, menace?” It’s not the first time I’ve asked.
“No,” Frankie grinds out.
“Do I give you butterflies?”
“Get real,” she guffaws. “Fuck butterflies.”
“Never felt ‘em?”
She slices across her neck. “I don’t believe in that fluffy shit and I don’t understand why you’re still here.”
The answer to that is too complicated, becoming more complex the longer I stay. It’s almost painful to admit that talking to Frankie is a tolerable way to pass the time. Dare I say enjoyable? Heat gathers in my gut, preparing to travel below the belt. Nope, that’s going too far again.
“Just keepin’ tabs on you and your spending habits.”
“Uh-huh, which we’ve discussed. I’ve been reprimanded and put in my place. Consider the task complete. You’re free to leave.”
I glance around the empty space. Everybody else is gone or moved to the first floor. “It’s getting late.”
“All the more reason to get gone.”
“You’re the only one left.”
“That’s how I prefer it.” Her stern voice shuts down any attempt to linger.
“Okay, fine. Message received. I can tell when I’m not wanted.”
“Hold on a damn minute.” Frankie studies me under a punishing scope. The force of her scrutiny locks my limbs in place. “You’re lonely.”
I scoff. “Try again.”
“No way,” she breathes. “That’s totally it. You want company, even if it’s mine. Who’s desperate now, big boy?”
“Careful,” I warn.
But she doesn’t listen. “Are you looking to add benefits to this… arrangement? After getting a feel in the alley, I could be easily convinced.”
A throb fondles my cock and my face goes up in flames. I leap off the chair like my ass is burning too. If her intention is to rattle me, she’s succeeding. There might be smoke wafting from my soles at the rate I’m tucking tail.
At the last second, ingrained charm gets the best of me and I tip my hat at her. “I’d say this was nice, but that’d be a lie.”
Frankie’s cackle chases me down the stairs. “Keep telling yourself that.”