5. Riley
Warm water poolsaround my calves as I luxuriate in my apartment’s cramped bathtub, doing my best to relax after a mid shift at the restaurant.
Olivia was the one who suggested it. While we were at the bar the other night, she told me that I seemed stressed, and that I should try to unwind after work. So on my way home from work today, I stopped at a boutique to pick up some bath bombs and incense.
When I got home, I lit a couple of candles, turned the lights low, and made myself a cup of rose hip tea. Incense is technically not allowed in my apartment—nor are candles—but I decided to give myself a pass on my landlord’s behalf. I ordered some takeout and turned the ringer off on my phone.
Now, I’m soaking in fresh, bubbly water that smells like bergamot and is tinged a pleasant pink. I lean my head back against the rim of the tub, taking a deep breath and doing my best to relax.
As always, it’s difficult. The second my mind has a free moment, my thoughts drift to the same place they always do—to the future.
There’s nothing less relaxing to think about than the future.
I’m stuck in a dead-end job, and I don’t see any signs of that changing. After the rejection several days ago, I haven’t even had a shred of false hope to cling to.
No love life to speak of, either. Not for a while.
The thought of my non-existent love life turns my thoughts to men, and involuntarily, I find myself thinking of the man I met the other day. Cole.
Those dark blue eyes, captivating and alluring, fixed upon me. His thick, jet black hair—perfect for running fingers through.
I let my fingers wander down my body as I think about him, wondering with a surge of jealousy if there’s some other girl who gets to feel his strong hands on her skin, to press herself against his chiseled chest.
Since I’m trying to unwind, I don’t stop myself from leaning into my fantasies. I indulge myself, thinking about the flawless Cupid’s bow of his upper lip, and what it would feel like pressed against mine.
My fingers slip over my clit, a small gasp escaping me as my thumb slides across it. Would he be gentle, or would there be a ferocity to the way he kissed me? The thought of both is exciting, each in different ways.
What if it was his fingers between my legs, deft and strong, trying to learn what it took to electrify me?
It’s been a while since a fantasy was this arousing to me. I find myself moaning quietly as my fingers move in the still-warm water.
Just as I’m starting to really get into it, my door buzzer rings.
I jump, my hand flying out of the water. Droplets arc across the room, splashing the mirror and soaking the bath mat next to the tub.
Damn. That was just getting good.
I sigh, climbing out of the water, and wrap myself in a towel, fluffy and fresh out of the dryer. I move over to the intercom. “Hello?”
A male voice answers me. “Is this Riley?”
That must be the food I ordered a while ago. Still a little annoyed at the interruption, I say, “Yeah, that’s me. Come on up.”
After a moment, there’s a knock on my apartment door. I feel a twinge of embarrassment—I’m wrapped in nothing but a towel—but there’s no time to throw on clothes, and besides, my bath is waiting for me to return.
They won’t judge. At least I’m covered up.
I walk to the door, cracking it open.
Immediately, I have to stifle my yelp of surprise. It’s not a delivery driver. It’s Cole.
He stands on the threshold, his hands in his pockets, his expression the same severe, stoic mask I remember from the other day. If he’s surprised to see me wrapped in a towel, he doesn’t show it.
Flustered, I open the door wider, stammering, “Oh, I’m—I’m sorry about the—this is a surprise—what can I—ah!”
In my surprise, I accidentally let go of the corner of the towel. My protective covering comes unwrapped and slips, and I yelp, trying to catch it before it falls all the way to the floor.
Cole’s gaze rakes my body briefly before darting away, giving me time to secure the towel once more, my cheeks burning in shame.
Not just shame, though. There’s also a little flame of desire burning in me—I can’t help it. He’s just as attractive as I remembered. If anything, my little candlelit, bathtub fantasy didn’t do him justice.
I clear my throat, trying to collect myself. “Sorry about that—sorry. How can I help you?”
Cool and stone-faced, he says, “I got your address from your brother. Would you like a moment to get dressed before I come in?”
“Yes, please,” I manage to squeak out, mortified.
Cole waits by the door as I run to my bedroom, wringing out my soaking-wet, dark brown hair with the towel. I throw on a t-shirt and shorts, then sheepishly return to the front room to invite Cole inside.
He doesn’t exactly make himself at home, just steps over the threshold and peers around briefly before saying, “I came here to offer you a job.”
“A—what?” I stare at him, confused. “A job?”
“A nannying position,” Cole clarifies, “for the boy you met the other day. Archer.”
I blink at him, then realize: he must have spoken to Noah. After all, Noah gave him my address.
“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Um, okay. What exactly would you be needing?”
Cole sighs, and for a moment, a sliver of weariness breaks through the cold exterior of his face. “I mostly just need some help,” he admits. “I thought I could juggle everything, but I’ve been having trouble on my own. I think that Archer—I call him Archie for short—needs more attention than I can give him.”
I nod sympathetically. While in school, working on internships, I came across plenty of people with the same problem. It’s hard to be a single parent.
“I’m looking for someone who can be there for Archie when I can’t,” Cole says. “Someone who understands kids, and isn’t going to be harsh with him.”
I frown, thinking. In the lull in conversation, the buzzer rings again, and I jump up to get it, almost grateful for the interruption.
“Hello? I have an order from Stacey’s Subs, for Riley?”
“That’s me,” I say. “You can come up, just knock.”
Cole waits in impassive silence as I thank the delivery driver and take my food, my mouth watering at the warm smells from the bag. I take it back to the coffee table and start to unpack the styrofoam boxes, then look up at my unexpected guest.
“Do you want some?” I offer, gesturing at the bag. “I ordered way too much food.”
Cole shakes his head. “No, thank you.” He walks forward to take the chair beside the coffee table.
“If you say so.” I shrug and dig in. He sits next to me, watching me eat like some kind of alien, his expression flat and almost confused. With his otherworldly good looks, the effect is uncanny. If he opened his mouth and told me he was from the planet Venus, I wouldn’t bat an eye.
I swallow my first mouthful of my sandwich, looking back at him. “So,” I say, “what would the job duties be?”
“Help me with Archie’s meals, baths, that sort of thing. Help me get him ready for preschool, when it’s in session. Play with him, keep him occupied while I’m working.” He pauses, then adds, “I should mention that this is a live-in position. You would be given lodging in my house, which, I assure you, has plenty of room.”
I stare at the paper bag on the table. “I’ve never considered nannying before,” I say carefully. I don’t want to turn down the opportunity, but I’m still unsure about it. “I don’t know if it’s for me. And I don’t have any experience.”
“We haven’t discussed salary yet.” Cole reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded slip of paper, which he hands to me. “Perhaps this might help you make up your mind?”
I open the paper and nearly jump out of my skin. It’s all I can do not to yell aloud; I was not expecting a number this big.
I almost choke on my sandwich, barely managing to swallow my bite. “Are you joking?”
“No,” says Cole, in a tone as severe as his expression. I don’t get the sense that he jokes frequently.
I pause, staring at him, stunned. After a few moments, I say, “Well… in that case, I guess I need some time to think about it. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” says Cole. He gets to his feet, reaching into his jacket pocket to produce a business card. I take it. It’s embossed, eggshell-white, with raised lettering—neat and organized, just like his appearance. “Take your time, and give me a call when you’ve made a decision.”
I swallow, nodding, as he turns to leave.