Ember in the Heart: A Novella

by Samantha Young

  “That’s not necessary,” he said tonelessly.

  Ember’s eyes flew to him. He couldn’t read her expression as she studied his face. “I can do it,” she finally said.

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t know what to do with a five-year-old.”

  “Why? Because I’m a single, childless thirty-six-year old woman and therefore I must not have a maternal bone in my body?”

  He bristled at her defensiveness. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “Hey.” Celeste held up her hands between them—even though there was a fence to do that—her gaze curious and questioning. “Cool it. Georgie needs someone to look after her. Someone responsible. There’s no one more responsible than Ember. She dropped out of college to look after me and Luna when our parents died and before that, she always helped our parents out with us.”

  Guilt prodded him. He’d forgotten they’d lost their parents young. And he hadn’t known Ember dropped out of school to take care of her sisters.

  It was more than he’d done for G.

  “I really wouldn’t mind.” Ember’s gaze moved beyond his shoulder and softened. “She’s a sweet kid.”

  Colt vouched for Ember. He thought she was the shit.

  Still, “I’d prefer her not to hang out in your store?”

  Ember crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? What do you think is in there?”

  He shrugged. “Nonsense occult, paranormal crap that might make my kid uneasy.”

  She grimaced. “I sell candles, jewelry, crystals, yoga mats, cute yoga gear, and books on meditation.”

  Oh.

  “You should consider checking it out. Meditation has a way of removing large sticks from small assholes.”

  Celeste choked on a bark of laughter, her round eyes swinging to Foster’s in apology.

  He glowered at her and then her sister. “Don’t really want my kid around someone with that mouth.”

  Though he’d like to taste it.

  A lot.

  A deep, wet taste.

  Fuck.

  He glanced over his shoulder to check on G again but also so they couldn’t see the heat in his expression. How could be attracted to a woman who continually insulted him? There must be something wrong with him.

  “Oh get over yourself, Darwin.” Ember’s voice brought his head back around. “I can look out for Georgie until you find someone permanent. Think about it. You know where to find me. Now I really do need to go.”

  Foster watched her sashay away, annoyed but hungry.

  A throat cleared, drawing his attention back to Celeste.

  Her head was tilted to the side and she studied him with a knowing glitter in her dark eyes. “Oh. Okay.” She smirked.

  What did that mean?

  “So … are you going to take Ember up on her offer?”

  “I’ll think about it.” He spun around and returned to G, willing his pulse to slow down.

  3

  Ember

  I loved night swimming. It was a good thing too because I also loved food. Swimming and yoga were great exercise but I’d never be one of those slender, athletic women who looked great no matter what they wore. And I was okay with that. It took me until my thirties to be okay with that but when I finally let myself be happy with my body and own my curves, it was amazing the kind of peace it brought me.

  Women spend far too much emotional energy worried about our weight. If I could bottle the formula of my ‘could give zero fucks formula’ I wouldn’t charge for it. I’d dole that stuff out for free so every woman in the world would be happy and see the beauty in themselves that the people who loved them could already see.

  My feet hit the pool wall and I pushed off it, propelling me back toward the opposite end and I saw movement on the patio. Realizing there was a large figure there, I startled in the water, coming to a stop. Floating in the middle of the pool, I watched as the tall man strode into the light.

  Foster.

  “Sorry if I scared you.” He crouched, those intense dark eyes of his focused on me.

  Despite my distaste for him, I was curious about his appearance. Swimming toward him, I came to a stop at the side of the pool and looked up. “What are you doing here?”

  “I saw you swimming.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward his house.

  I looked up and saw the light on in the master bedroom that overlooked the backyard. My whole life we’d lived next door to the Cowies. They were around twenty years older than my parents, their kids were off to college by the time Mom and Dad started popping us out. Deciding to move to a smaller house in Florida, they’d put the house up for sale much to our sadness. It was weird not having them next door.

  Even weirder Darwin had moved in.

  “I wondered if your offer was still good?”

  Remembering my impulsive offer to look after Georgie, part of me wanted to say no. But then, just as I had that morning, I saw Georgie sitting on patio furniture, watching her dad with big, melancholy eyes. And I remembered that her mom had abandoned her. I’d forgotten about Foster’s repellent personality and just seen a father who needed help with his little girl. Until he’d opened his mouth again. His disdain for me couldn’t be clearer so it was more than a shock that he’d come over to take me up on my proposal.

  Swimming to the ladders I pulled myself out of the water. I hadn’t thought anything about my state of undress until I walked toward Foster. He slowly stood from his haunches his eyes traveling up my body.

  And I swear to God, I felt his perusal like strong fingers caressing my skin.

  I saw his Adam’s apple move with a hard swallow as his gaze lingered on my breasts.

  Surprise caused me to halt a few feet from him.

  His attention moved to my face and although he was quick to bank it, there was no mistaking the heat in his eyes.

  Holy shit.

  Foster was attracted to me.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and then realized the action pushed my boobs out and drew even more attention to them so I dropped my arms, feeling awkward.

  And very, very almost naked in my blue bikini.

  “Well?” he snapped.

  I raised an eyebrow at his tone and bristled.

  Was he mad that he was attracted to me?

  Why? Because I was a thirty-six-year old massage therapist and being sexually interested in me was mortifying to him?

  Man child.

  I bet he didn’t even know what to do with a woman.

  Most men his age didn’t.

  Screw him.

  If he was uncomfortable because he found me attractive that was his problem. I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked a hip. “You’re asking me a favor … don’t you think you should at least pretend to be polite?”

  Foster narrowed his beautiful eyes. “You do make it difficult.”

  “I didn’t even say a word,” I argued.

  “It’s your attitude.” He took a step toward me. “I need help with my kid and you’re deliberately …” he gestured vaguely to me.

  “I’m what?” I moved into him. “Breathing?”

  “I don’t even know why I bothered.” His angry eyes dipped to my mouth and back up again. “You’re clearly not the best person to watch Georgie anyway.”

  That little pretentious prick. My arms dropped to my sides as I stiffened. “Why?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s the second time you’ve questioned my ability to be a responsible adult around a five-year-old. I want to know why, with so little effort to get to know me, you think you do. Know me, that is.”

  He shrugged. “Just a hunch.”

  A hunch?

  “Well, you’re best friends with Colt so I’m sure he could vouch for me. And probably already has. So why have you made this snap judgment about my capabilities? Is it perhaps because you’re a country club snob who thinks anyone without a college degree, or any woman who hasn’t been married by the time she’s thirty, is deficient in some w
ay?”

  “Now who’s jumping to conclusions.”

  “Jumping to conclusions? You more than insinuated that a woman who looked like me who was still single at my age—ouch, by the way—must have something wrong with her. Then you’ve twice implied that I am incapable of looking after a child. Why, when you know so little about me, would you draw that conclusion? Of course I’d assume it was out of pure elitism and sexism.”

  “So I’m an elitist and sexist now?” he stepped into me, our chests brushing and I gasped at the sparks of excitement that electrified my skin and set my pulse racing. Foster tensed, his gaze dropping to my mouth again.

  Attraction crackled between us, hot and charged.

  My fingers curled into fists at my sides as Foster’s head dipped toward mine, his breath whispering across my lips. I could feel my mouth plumping at just the mere thought of his kiss.

  Suddenly he stumbled back, eyes wide as if he was shocked by his own behavior.

  I sucked in a breath.

  We stared at each other, confused.

  Not just confused. My body was strung taut, completely unsatisfied with his sudden distance.

  “This was a bad idea,” he said, his voice hoarse, before he turned to leave.

  Gathering myself together, I called after him, “I can look after Georgie until you find someone.”

  Foster glanced back at me. “Like I said, I think that would be a terrible idea.”

  It was clear, despite our personality clash and age difference, that there was a physical attraction between us. One I was quite willing to ignore now that my mind wasn’t lust fogged by his proximity. Yet, Foster was so horrified by the idea of being attracted to me, he didn’t even want to be near me?

  Well that just pissed me off.

  “Scared?” I taunted.

  He turned to face me. “Excuse me?”

  Ignoring his dangerous tone, I continued, “You have no logical reason for turning down my very kind offer. Unless you’re such a snob that you can’t even associate with a massage therapist with no known blue blood in her family history?”

  “You’re determined to think the worst of me.”

  I shrugged. “Change my mind.”

  “Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll leave for work a little later tomorrow so I can be there to explain to Georgie you’ll be watching her this week. But I usually leave for work at six thirty. Is that too early?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Fine.”

  “What time will I come over tomorrow?”

  “Seven fifteen.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  His gaze flicked down my body one last time and I saw a muscle tick in his jaw before he marched out of sight down the side of the house. Without saying goodnight.

  “We really need to work on his manners.”

  The jewelry in my store seemed to hold Georgie transfixed. I watched her look over the stands and towers and glass cabinets filled with jewelry, some costume, some handmade in precious metals. After I’d dropped her off at school yesterday morning, I’d switched around some of my clients so that all my appointments ended before the school day did. Those who couldn’t do that, my three other massage therapists covered for me.

  My store was managed during the day by Raven, a friend from high school whose real name was Mindy Watts. Growing up she’d been envious of the unusual names my parents had given me and my sisters and so she’d adopted the name Raven for herself. To be fair, she looked way more like a Raven than a Mindy.

  I’d let Raven go home to her teenage kids early, since Georgie and I could watch the shop until Foster showed. We did her homework in between customers.

  The first day with Georgie had been good but slightly awkward. She was a shy kid and she didn’t talk much. That didn’t worry me. I used to be a shy kid. What worried me was the sadness in her eyes. No five-year-old should be that glum or serious.

  My phone beeped on the counter and I saw it was a text from Foster. Swiping my phone screen, I leaned in to read it.

  Sorry, meeting ran late, just getting out of the office now. Please can you provide Georgie with dinner. Foster.

  I sighed. So goddamn formal.

  I texted him back.

  No problem.

  I still wasn’t the most loquacious with Georgie’s dad, afraid that in being so we’d end up in another argument. Jumping off my stool, I grabbed my purse and called to Georgie, “Hey, honey, your dad is running a little late so we’re going to do dinner without him.”

  She walked toward me. “Is he coming home?”

  I frowned. “Of course. He just got out of the office, though, and the city is ninety minutes away so we’re going to close up here and grab some dinner. How does Penny’s sound?”

  It was her turn to frown at me.

  “You’ve never been to Penny’s Diner?”

  Georgie shook her head.

  “You like chicken nuggets? And milkshakes?”

  Her eyes lit up, making me smile.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I held out my hand to her. “Penny’s is the best place in town for a chicken nuggets and milkshakes.”

  As I ate Penny’s famous and delicious cheeseburger, Georgie dipped a nugget into ketchup and gazed around the diner at the other occupants. We were lucky to get a table since tourists descended on our town spring through summer. But I knew Geraldine, the head waitress at Penny’s, and she found us a small table in the back.

  Noting Georgie’s gaze had fixated on something, I followed it and tensed. A mom and her daughter, around Georgie’s age, were settled in a booth, two older boys on the opposite side, and the mom and daughter had their heads together, giggling at something.

  My chest ached at the wounded expression on Georgie’s face.

  She was way too young to feel the horrible emotions she was experiencing right now.

  God, I could kill her mom.

  “You okay, honey?”

  Her little mouth trembled as she replied, “Jenna Green said mommies don’t go away like Mommy did. Jenna said Mommy must have really not liked me and that’s why she went away to Parees.”

  Ugh, that was a punch to the gut.

  Jenna Green was a brat. I leaned across the table. “That’s not true, honey.”

  “But Mommy went away.”

  “For a job. A very important job.” I didn’t know if that was true and truth be told, I didn’t think there was any job more important than being a mom. As far as I was concerned, that was the deal you made with the universe once you had a kid.

  “Jenna Green said her mommy said being a mommy is an impotnant job and that my mommy didn’t love me because she thought Parees was more impotnant than me.” Tears shone in Georgie’s eyes and she looked seconds from bawling her eyes out.

  Jenna Green’s mother was on my shit list.

  I quickly waved down Geraldine. “We’re just going to the bathroom, we’re not leaving.”

  “Sure thing, Em. I’ll watch your stuff.”

  “Thanks.” I stood and scooped up Georgie before she could protest. She was heavier than she looked and I had to shift her onto my hip. I was grateful she looped her arms around my neck and let me take her to the restroom. Locking the door behind me, I gently lowered Georgie to her feet, noted the tears had sprung loose, and got down to her level to hug her tight. She wrapped her little arms around me and feeling her trembles, hearing her little hiccups, I had to hold back my own tears. This angel had rapidly gotten under my skin.

  Eventually I eased her away and rummaged in my purse for tissues to dab at her cheeks.

  “Honey, your mom loves you,” I told her, sure it had to be true. “She just needed to do this and she knows how much you love your dad and she thought it might be great for you to spend more time with him.” I shouldn’t be lying to a five-year-old. I knew that. But I couldn’t have her thinking her mom didn’t like her. “And your dad is so happy to have you with him.”

  To my shock, she didn’t look cer
tain of that either.

  Despite my conflicted feelings about Foster, there was no doubt in my mind that he loved his kid.

  Yet, it seemed her mother’s abandonment had filled Georgie with insecurities no kid should feel.

  Time to chat with Foster.

  After our talk in the bathroom, we’d returned to our table but Georgie lost her appetite so we went home. Not long later Foster arrived. Leaving Georgie to watch a cartoon in a living room that had been transformed, apparently overnight, by a team of stylists, I followed Foster into his office after asking to speak privately.

  As I closed the double doors behind us, Foster leaned against his sturdy antique desk and crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t shaved in the last few days, his hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it, and there was a weariness in his eyes that made him look older than his twenty-five years.

  Twenty-five.

  When I was twenty-five, he was only fourteen.

  I shuddered.

  Don’t think about that.

  “What’s going on? Is G okay?”

  I told him about the incident in the diner.

  Foster bit out a curse, turning to glare at a bookshelf. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

  “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing to her.”

  “What else could you say,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

  I sighed. “I’m telling you because obviously you need to know but also because I got the distinct impression that she doesn’t feel sure you’re happy she’s living with you full time.”

  He glared at me incredulously. “What?”

  “She’s five and extremely smart and intuitive for her age. No matter what we say, she feels, rightfully, abandoned by her mom. It’s made her insecure. You’re going to have to work overtime to make her feel wanted.”

  Foster continued to glower at me.

  So I forged ahead. “I understand you work in the city and you’re doing your best to get back home after office hours. I understand you probably still have to work through the night. But my advice is that Georgie needs stability. She needs your evenings while she’s awake to be all about her and she’ll need your weekends too. No working … and no …” I waved vaguely remembering the gorgeous redhead at the engagement party. “Women who aren’t permanent.”