by V McFarlane
What do I do?
“I’m not married,” Taron says, coolly.
“I know that but what I’m saying is, like, she does not look like a nanny. She looks like… I don’t know but shit!”
Taron chuckles, “Put your tongue back in your mouth.”
I swallow hard, trying hard not to cut my fingers off my hand. They were really not being quiet about their conversation. Not even a little. Did they honestly think I couldn’t hear them? Apparently because that conversation wasn’t something I was supposed to hear.
“Y’all crazy,” Rhett says, “Is she single?”
“No,” Taron growls, a sudden possessiveness evident in his voice, “She isn’t.”
“Ohhhh,” Rhett breathes, “I get–”
I’d had enough, “Right!” I call out, “time to go.”
Taron waltzes back into the room, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, “You heard that.”
“No,” I lie.
I’ve never been a good liar but at least he doesn’t question me on it. With Ripley’s book bag and lunch box in hand, I wait for her to say goodbye to her dad and then hurry out the door.
Once both girls are bundled up in the car, I reverse and hurry down the driveway away from whatever crazy just happened.
In the school yard, I watch the girls play hopscotch, each one taking turns to hop in the squares that have been painted on the floor. Not before long a little dark-haired boy starts to play along with them.
“Hey,” a vaguely familiar voice says, “I knew I’d see you again.”
I turn to see Helen, the lady I’d met in the park the same day I confronted Taron.
“Helen, hi,” I smile, “How are you?”
We get into a bit of small talk whilst the kids play and wait for the bell to ring and when it does, we line up with the kids, waiting for them to be let into the classroom.
“You’re a nanny too?” Helen asks, looking down to the two girls hanging off my arms.
“No,” I laugh, “Well yes, I suppose but it’s a fairly new thing.”
She nods her understanding, “Mr Cain’s daughter looks just like him, don’t you think?”
I look down at Ripley and smile, recognising the hazel eyes and dark hair that she shares with her father, “She does.”
“Lucky kid,” Helen whistles, “Will never want for anything.”
My heart squeezes, didn’t I know that already, “She is a lucky kid, her dad adores her.”
“Ava’s lucky too,” Helen says softly.
My head snaps around to the kind woman and cocks to the side, “Why would you say that?”
She smiles, “I just know, Penny. I just know.”
She says no more and no less and then the kids are being let into the classroom and we’re alone in the yard.
“Why don’t you come by sometime, hmm?” Helen asks, “Have a drink?”
My frown must be set in a question because she answers without me saying a word.
“I was new here once too, if someone had extended a branch to me, I would’ve taken it. No catch. No obligations. Just a friend.”
She presses a folded piece of paper into my hand, grasps my fingers and then walks back to the white Volvo parked at the sidewalk. I look down to the piece of paper. It’s her phone number, email address and home address with a note.
A friend when you need one.
With a thousand questions swirling in my mind, I head back to Taron’s ranch to get on with the days to do list.
I’m sure half of the stuff on the list is just to keep me busy and doesn’t actually need to be done but I’ll do it anyway. Anything is better than sitting at home alone, doing nothing with my time.
There are a few people in the fields when I arrive back, but they pay me no mind as I let myself in through the front door and get on with the day’s tasks.
Twenty
Penny
When I collect the girls from school later that day, they’re both donning DIY pink paper crowns covered in multicoloured glitter that has sprinkled off into their hair. It’s more obvious on Ripley with her dark mane but when the sun catches Ava, her hair sparkles.
“Well it looks like you two had a run in with the glitter fairy, huh?” I chuckle, taking their book bag and lunch boxes.
“No, mommy,” Ava tuts, “We made crowns!” She points to her head like I hadn’t seen the crown.
“Oh!” I play along, “I didn’t see that there! You’re both queens.”
“No,” Ripley shakes her head, “We’re princesses. You’re the queen.”
“Yeah,” Ava agrees, “You’re older.”
A rush of laughter leaves my chest, “So that makes me a queen?”
Ava nods assertively and then turns her attention to a dark-haired boy running across the yard. “Bye Ethan!” She yells.
He turns his attention back to the girls and grins, his face splitting in two with that dark mop of hair falling down over his forehead. I scan the grounds for Helen but don’t see her, instead Ethan runs up to a woman with glossy auburn hair that’s cut sharply around her thin, sharply drawn face.
I hold a hand up to wave, seeing as our kids are friends but am met with a twisted expression. Her lip turns up and she makes an exaggerated effort of looking once down my body and then back up.
Ooo-kay…
I can’t help but keep my eyes on her however, and as she leans down to the boy, her eyes stay on mine and she whispers into his ear. He turns his head towards the girls, his little brows drawn together in confusion.
I sigh, already guessing what she’s saying to Ethan.
Dressed in a flowing, expensive looking dress she straightens and hikes up her handbag on her shoulder, looking me over once more before turning on heels that do not look comfortable, I mean can she even feel her toes?
I watch them walk through the school gates, right up to an idling black Mercedes and they both climb into the back seats.
That must have been Ethan’s mother, I realise, remembering Helen had said she was his nanny.
Shaking off the chill her look gave me, I turn my attention back to the girls, “Who wants to go to the park!?”
“Me!” They both squeal in unison.
I bundle both of them into their car seat and then start the wrangler, pulling out into the heavy school traffic.
My day was surprisingly busy. I went grocery shopping for Taron, filling all his shelves and fridge and then once I had done that, I changed the bedding in all the rooms including his. I don’t like to admit that I lingered in that bedroom way longer than I should have. He doesn’t make his bed which had made me chuckle and when I looked down at those navy-blue crumpled sheets all I could picture was him, naked and barely covered by the soft material. I then I pictured us, rolling around on that big bed, my hands gliding over those firm muscles, fingertips trailing that line of hair I had seen dipping below the waist band of his swim shorts.
I bite my lip, trying to stay focused on the road ahead.
They smelled like him, of his laundry detergent and that signature aroma of leather and wood. I wonder if that comes from working at the distillery.
When I finally make it to the park, I pull over into a space opposite and help the girls out, waiting for the street to clear before crossing. Once safely inside, they dart of towards the jungle gym, both climbing the steep steps to the overlook.
“Look at us, Queen Penny,” Ripley laughs, peering over the balcony, “We’re princesses in a tower. We need to be rescued!”
I chuckle, “Who’s going to rescue you!?”
“I will!” A little boy yells and my stomach sinks as I realise Ethan and his mother have just walked through the gates. Ethan sprints to the steps and starts to climb up, full knight in shining armour and I try to keep my eyes focused on them.
“Queen Penny, huh?” Ethan’s mother steps up next to me, five or six inches taller than I am. Those heels start to sink into the soft ground and she grimaces, stepping back onto th
e asphalt that surrounds a bench.
I shrug, turning back to the children.
“I thought queens would be more,” she pauses, “put together.”
I take deep breath, trying not to look down at myself although I fail. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with this dress, it’s actually one of my nicer ones but granted the make-up I had put on this morning was long gone and my well-kept hair a lot more dishevelled and windswept. Still, I didn’t think I looked bad.
“Not this queen,” I answer, trying to keep my voice cool, like she hasn’t affected me with her words.
I know this type. I dealt with this type.
“Clearly,” she scoffs, “So, you’re the help?”
I risk a glance her way, my nostrils flaring, jaw tight. Her face is smug, one side of her mouth pulled up in an evil smirk.
“You know,” she waves her hand, “His little errand girl.”
“I’m his nanny,” I correct her.
“Right,” she nods, “Of course, Mr Cain is a very busy man. Of course, he needs a nanny. Where did you study?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Oh, I just thought, seeing as he is who he is, he would hire only the best.”
I take a deep breath and count to five. One, two, three –
“He must have taken what I said to heart that day.” She laughs, it’s an airy sound but not one that is light. It’s full of spite, venom, “He must feel sorry for you, funny I never thought he’d put his kid at risk.”
“What are you talking about!?”
She steps up to me, looking down her nose, “Oh nothing, dear. It’s just you’re not very experienced, are you?”
“I’m experienced enough.”
“Maybe,” She shrugs, “Or perhaps you’re just a charity case. I guess we’ll never know.”
“What is wrong with you?” I snap.
“Me?” She presses a hand to her chest and then laughs, shaking her head like I’m the crazy one here. “Ethan, time to go!”
“But mom! It’s only been five minutes!”
“Now, Ethan,” she growls.
I had a feeling she only came into the park to say her little piece and the smug grin she throws my way as she climbs into the back of the merc, a reluctant Ethan climbing in behind her only confirms it.
Had Taron been talking about me? To her?
I won’t lie, the idea stings. Am I just a charity case to him? Someone he feels sorry for?
I need this job, I need the advance he’s willing to pay me at the end of this week, I need the car, the stability, but what if he’s just doing this because of some weird need to help me? And what about that kiss?
That didn’t feel like a, I feel sorry for you, kind of kiss. That felt like a kiss laced with desire and heat and need.
After an hour in the park we head back to the ranch where the girls sit down at the table to complete their homework and I get on with preparing dinner. I place the veg, meat and gravy into a large ceramic dish and put it in the oven before peeling the potatoes and putting them on for boil.
My mind hasn’t been able to push that woman’s words away. The logical side of me is very aware that she was probably saying it to get a rise from me but the impulsive, reactive side of me is raging that I could be so low on someone’s radar. What have I done to deserve that woman’s animosity?
I’m still stewing on it when Taron returns home at six and I’m dishing up the hot pot and mashed potatoes.
“Hey,” he smiles at me, inhaling deeply, “That smells amazing.”
I nod and give him a small smile in return, but I don’t feel it.
His brows draw together, “What is it? Is it Ripley? Is she okay?”
My heart squeezes and some of the tension leaves my shoulders, “No she’s fine.”
“Then, what’s wrong?” He rounds the kitchen island and comes to stand before me, lowering himself to meet my eyes.
I almost forget everything with him being so close. Nothing else matters with his body inches away, his heat pulsing from his skin to caress me as if it were his hands. Concern is etched into his face, his eyes pleading with me to just let him in.
“I met someone today.” I say, placing both hands on the counter to stop myself from reaching out and smoothing the little V that’s formed between his brows.
“Who?”
I shrug, “I didn’t get her name. She’s Ethan’s mother.”
He stiffens, “Carla.”
“Auburn hair, expensive clothes, has a Mercedes.”
He nods.
“Carla then, I met her today.”
His jaw goes tense, the muscles twitching as he grinds his teeth, “What did she do?”
“Nothing really,” because really it was nothing, words.
Sticks and stones may break my bones…
I used to repeat that mantra back in my old town.
But words can never hurt me.
Even when I recited it, both out loud and in my head, it never happened that way. Words hurt. They damage.
Sighing, I give him my full attention, there’s only one way to figure it out and find out if there was any truth behind her words, “Do you feel sorry for me?”
Twenty-one
Taron
“Do you feel sorry for me?”
That wasn’t what I was expecting. “Do I feel sorry for you? Are you serious?”
She nods shyly.
“No.”
“Am I charity case that you need to fix?”
I scoff, “No.”
“So, you haven’t given me this job just to help me?”
“Penny,” I put both hands on her shoulders, my thumb stroking the bare flesh, “You’re helping me.”
That was the truth. I hadn’t realised just how much I had missed in the weeks I didn’t have someone for Ripley. Ripley is a priority and always will be, but the distillery still belongs to my family and I have a responsibility to maintain what we built, if not make it better.
I won’t be like my father though, I will make time for my daughter.
She swallows, her shoulders rolling as she tries to work the tension from her muscles, “I don’t understand why she hates me.”
“I don’t think she hates you,” I say, starting to knead the muscles with my fingers. Her eyes flutter closed. “I just don’t think she likes competition.”
“Competition?” Penny asks, her voice relaxed as I work the muscles in her shoulders.
I don’t mind. I’m just thankful she’s letting me touch her.
“Mm,” I answer, “Carla has a thing for me.” I hated admitting it out loud.
Penny chuckles, “Doesn’t half the women in this town?”
I can’t help it, I reply, “Do you?”
She doesn’t stiffen like I expect her to, nor does she pull away, she just chooses to ignore the question whilst she hums her appreciation of what I’m doing to her. I hit a particular tight spot and press my thumbs into it which earns a delicious moan, her head to tipping back, exposing the flawlessly smooth column of her throat.
Holy shit.
I’ve never seen something so erotic.
Without thinking about what I’m doing I release one shoulder and drag a finger down the centre of her neck, following the curve down to the little dip between her collar bones, then further down to her breast bone before stopping at the swell of her breasts. Her breathing is fast, I see it pulsing wildly in her neck and then to my delight, she clamps her thighs together.
A satisfied smile tugs at my lips and I step into her space, “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?” I whisper into the shell of her ear, eliciting goose bumps along her bare arms.
“Taron,” she breathes.
“Should I tell you?” I ask.
Shit I could get used to this. Coming home from a long ass day to a beautiful woman waiting for me.
“Yes.” Her answer is barely a whisper, but she may have shouted it for all I cared.
I hadn’
t expected to get this far but I’d take what she would give.
“I want to slip you from this dress,” I murmur, “I want to run my hands over these curves,” I drop the hand that isn’t in the centre of her chest and grip the dip in her waist, squeezing gently. Her pulse goes wild beneath my palm, “I want to taste your skin and feel you shiver under me as I trail my fingers over your stomach, dipping lower,” I do with my hand everything I am saying, feeling the soft curve of her abdomen, “until I find your pussy.”
