Miles placed his hands behind his head. “I do like you, Aspen.”
I scanned his immaculately clean office, nervous, not knowing how to respond. I think I could like him. Maybe I already did. But there were some things I didn’t like, and those needed to be addressed first.
Miles interrupted my train of thought. “I saw you playing football out back. You and your daughter are good.”
My gaze locked with his. I had no idea he was watching us. “Were we being too loud?”
“Not at all. I was taking a break and noticed.”
“You could have joined us. I think Henry would have liked that.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted to show you up,” he said uncomfortably. “Besides, you Americans don’t even call it by its proper name.”
“That’s not true.”
Miles’s brow cocked. “I think you are mistaken.”
“I don’t think so.” I flashed him my best smirk. “The word soccer originated in Britain around two hundred years ago, but when it became too ‘Americanized,’ your people stopped using it.”
“My people?” he barked out a laugh. “I’m going to have to fact-check you on this.”
“Check away.”
“You are cheeky.”
“You have no idea.”
“I think I do.” The mood suddenly shifted in the room from playful to serious. “You are also brilliant. My publisher is raving about you. Your social media posts have sales up and me trending, so thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I folded my hands in my lap and began to wring them. With him happy about my job performance, I thought maybe this was a good time to bring up my concerns. I took a breath, and after one more good wring of my hands, I rested them on my legs and leaned forward. “Would you mind if we talked about Henry?”
“Not at all.” His brow pinched. “Is he misbehaving?”
“No. He’s a sweet boy. Rambunctious as all little boys are, but honestly, he’s a doll. I love taking care of him.”
“And you’re marvelous at it.”
“Thank you. But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Miles tilted his head.
“You see, as much as I love taking care of him, I shouldn’t be the only person. He needs you.”
Miles’s ears pinked and his body became rigid.
“Henry is still hurting, as I know you are too, but you are his parent now, for all intents and purposes, and it’s important for him and you to be together for the little moments, like bedtime, dinnertime, and playtime. Surely you don’t need to work all day, every day.” I ended with an apprehensive smile.
He didn’t return it. In fact, his glare had me losing my smile in a hurry.
He cleared his throat before sitting up as straight as possible. “Here’s the thing, love.” The edge in his tone said he did not mean that as a term of endearment. “You don’t know the kind of pressure I’m under, and you bloody well don’t know what I’ve been through the last several weeks. I love my nephew and I hired you to be his nanny, not mine.”
His curt response knocked the air right out of me. I sat stunned for several seconds, having an awful staring contest with him as he waited for my reply. When I could finally catch my breath, I stood on shaky legs, willing my lip not to quiver. “Thank you for clearing that up, Mr. Wickham. Good night.” I marched out the door.
“Aspen, wait,” he called after I was already down the hall.
He could keep on calling. I wouldn’t be answering. But maybe one day I would thank him for reminding me exactly why I kept myself closed-off and for burying the key to my heart just a bit deeper.
Chapter Thirteen
“Come out and show us how you look, darlin’,” Shelby drawled.
I looked at myself one more time in the dressing room mirror. I loved the long, camel sweater with the white camisole and black leggings. I even liked the leopard print flats Shelby said would make the outfit. Not sure I loved the price, even with the discount Shelby was giving me. I never spent this much on clothes—I could never afford to.
I walked out to my audience, which consisted of Emma, who was holding Henry on her lap, and Shelby, who was standing there ready to pounce on me.
“Miss Aspen, these pieces were made for you. You look hotter than a firecracker on the Fourth of July.”
Her Southern sayings killed me.
“Looks like a good kiss-and-make-up outfit,” Emma wiggled her brows.
“Please, let’s not talk about him anymore.” I was still seething about last night. I didn’t even bother to film his stupid dance ritual or say goodbye to him. I grabbed Henry, his clothes, and escaped to the cottage. After dropping Chloe off at school, I ran a few errands and then came straight to Shelby’s boutique looking to blow off some steam.
“You pretty, Nanny.” Henry melted my heart and reminded me why I wasn’t quitting.
But that got me to thinking. “I better not buy anything new. What if he fires me?”
Emma waved off my concern. “He’s not going to fire you.”
Shelby hugged me and patted my back. “Of course he won’t, sugar.”
“I don’t know; he was pretty livid.”
“Yeah, well,” Emma snuggled Henry closer, “no one likes to be told they are doing something wrong, especially when it’s true. Besides, who’s going to watch this cute kid for him?” She kissed Henry’s cheeks repeatedly, making him giggle.
“I don’t think he would have a hard time replacing me.”
Shelby started taking off the sweater, wanting me to try on the other items she had picked out for me. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. He’s going to come to his senses and beg you to forgive him.”
“And if not, we’ll order a cockroach in his honor.” Emma laughed evilly.
Shelby squirmed. She still wasn’t over us making her watch meerkats devour cockroaches named after the men who had done us wrong, namely Leland and Ryder at the time. The cockroach named Ryder, however, had escaped. I supposed that was fitting, seeing as Ryder and Shelby were married now and already procreating. Leland was getting a cockroach a week named after him now that I had some extra cash. Watching him die a painful death weekly would do me good.
“It’s not a bad idea,” I agreed with Emma.
“Y’all are just being silly.” Shelby pushed me back in the dressing room. “I’m telling you, the man is taken with you. Now change. I want to take some pictures of you for my social media pages.”
That reminded me of all the comments Miles was getting on his pages begging for a new song to be uploaded and for him to father hundreds of children. As pretty as those babies would be, they would all be neglected. Stupid man. I ripped off the camisole and leggings and threw on the skinny jeans and olive jacket Shelby picked out next for me. When I came out, Shelby tied a matching scarf around my neck and gave me some leather wedges to put on.
“Perfect,” Shelby exclaimed. “Let me get my phone out. With you as my model, I’ll be selling out of this jacket before I know it.”
“I doubt it.”
“Please, you’re gorgeous,” Emma quipped.
“I’m PMS bloated.”
“You want to talk about bloated? I’ve lost fifteen pounds in the last few months and still can’t eat or drink without puking—even Dr. Pepper—but despite all that, I couldn’t zip my pants up this morning. How fair is that?” Emma complained. “And why do these babies hate my favorite drink? The thought of raising offspring who prefer water like their father is unthinkable.” She faux frowned. “I still blame you, Shelby, for making me go on that sugar-free kick. My children were conceived without enough corn syrup running through their DNA.”
We all had a good laugh.
Marlowe walked through the fabric curtains that separated the dressing room area from the rest of the boutique. She must have just gotten to work. She looked surprised to see us all there, especially young Henry. The normally poised and stand-offish Marlowe turned ashen when she no
ticed him and stammered, “I’ll talk to you later, Shelby.” She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. In her haste, she got tangled up in the curtain.
Once she was out of hearing range, I whispered, “What was up with her?”
A look passed between Shelby and Emma that said they knew exactly what was up. Emma was the one to spill the beans on her sister. “We found out,” she said quietly, “the real reason she broke up with Bobby Jay is because he wants kids.”
“I thought he couldn’t have children,” I whispered back.
“He’s always wanted to adopt.” Shelby patted her heart. “I think now with Ryder having his own, he’s itching to have himself a baby something fierce.”
“And Marlowe doesn’t?” I asked.
Emma squeezed Henry, who was starting to fidget before he jumped off her lap and busied himself with some of the trains I’d brought with us. “Marlowe is afraid. She and Macey have always been the babies. I don’t think she would even know what to do with one.”
“Maybe she’ll come around,” I offered.
Emma shrugged. “Who knows.”
“I hope she does,” Shelby sighed. “Bobby Jay is in a world of hurt.” Shelby gave me an apprising sort of look. “You know, maybe if things don’t work out with the dashing Brit, you and Bobby Jay could give it a go.” She got a dreamy look in her eyes. “Oh my goodness, you would be the cutest couple, and Bobby Jay would make a great stepdaddy to Chloe.”
I snorted. “I don’t think so.” Bobby Jay was a nice guy and, like me, he’d been through an ugly divorce, but I wasn’t the least bit attracted to him. Which was probably my problem. Apparently, I was drawn to jerks, which was another good reason to avoid men altogether.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid my boss.
~*~
I tried my hardest to avoid him. I even contemplated having Henry stay with Chloe and me in the cottage that night, but I knew what havoc taking a kid out of their own environment could wreak. Then I had the smart idea to just take the monitor myself, but the thing didn’t transmit that far. So I went with plan C.
After I put Henry to bed, I tiptoed down the hall and set the monitor in front of Miles’s door. I knocked then, loud enough so he could hear, but not so loud to wake up Henry, I said, “I’m leaving the monitor in front of your door.” Then I dashed down the hall. Not fast enough, though.
“Aspen, please wait.”
Damn. I stopped near the stairs. I held onto the banister, not bothering to look at him.
That didn’t deter him; he zipped down the hall. “Aspen.” He landed right next to me. I was taken aback by how disheveled he looked. His curls were going every which way as if he’d run his hand through his hair a million times today, and his normally pressed clothes were wrinkled. Too bad it didn’t make him look unattractive. The swooping sensation in my stomach was back.
“I’ve been hoping to talk to you today, but you didn’t come by this morning.”
“You could have found me if it was important.” My snark came out. Probably not a good idea for job security purposes.
“It is important, but I’ve been busy.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He touched my arm, I think before he realized what he was doing. He removed it almost as soon as he made contact. “I apologize for snapping at you last night. There is mounting pressure for me to finish this book.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.” My eyes locked with his. “You made that clear last night.”
He let out a heavy breath. “You are right, I don’t owe you an explanation, but I want you to understand. I didn’t ask for this.”
I rubbed my chest, wishing I could massage the pain away. His statement brought back too many bad memories. “My ex-husband used to say the same thing,” my voice cracked. “I am very sorry for your loss. I know how hard it is to find yourself alone and raising a child, but that’s not Henry’s fault, just like it wasn’t Chloe’s. And just like Chloe needed me to step up and put her first, Henry deserves the same from you.”
Miles stood silently, but his eyes swirled with all the things he wanted to say to me. And by how brooding they appeared, I would say they weren’t all pleasant. However, he said not a word.
“I didn’t know your sister, but I know what it’s like to be a mother. I can promise you this, she didn’t want you locking yourself away every day from the most important thing in her life or placing him solely in my care. Not to say I don’t love taking care of him; I do. But someday I won’t be here.” Like maybe any minute now, when he fired me for lecturing him. I wouldn’t regret it. He needed to hear what I had to say. Henry was more important than my job.
Without a word, he strode off down the hall and locked himself back in his office.
I guessed I should probably start packing.
Chapter Fourteen
I sat in bed in the dark well after Chloe went to sleep with tears streaming down my cheeks, worried that I’d be disrupting Chloe’s life again and moving back in with my parents.
I picked up my copy of Silent Stones from the nightstand, barely able to make out Miles’s headshot on the back. Why did he have to be like every other man? I didn’t know why I thought he might be different. Perhaps his beautiful words had seduced me. How could he write such emotion, but be so heartless? What was Sophie thinking, giving Henry to him? Her other family members must be awful. Obviously, their dad didn’t have a lot of scruples, having an ongoing affair with the nanny. From the sound of it, Miles’s mom wasn’t the only one over the years. And it said a lot about Sophie’s mom for putting up with it. Definitely not someone I would want to raise my child.
I wiped my cheeks and shoved his stupid book in the nightstand drawer. I was never reading it again. Or the sequel. It all felt like lies now. It made me feel ill that I related so much to Isabella. That I thought for one second, or maybe even two, that Miles might be a man for whom I would consider beginning the search for the key to my heart. Ugh! What was wrong with me? I threw the covers over my head. I knew better. Hadn’t I learned anything from Leland? I blamed my friends for all having incredible relationships. False hope had crept in. Well, I was back on guard. No one was getting through ever again.
For most of the next day, Henry insisted on playing in his nursery. I had no reason to tell him no, other than it made me uncomfortable being so close to Miles, who was down the hall once again locked up in his office like some brooding master. I waited on pins and needles all day for him to come in and tell Henry to keep it down or, you know, fire me.
With that thought in mind, I got out my doodle pad with the intent of drawing a picture of Henry for me to keep as a memento. I intended it to only be of him, but I kept being drawn to the picture of Sophie and Kevin on the small table near Henry’s toddler bed. I sat on Henry’s bed and picked up the framed picture and ran my fingers across the glass. Sophie was beautiful, with sandy brown hair and the same enigmatic aqua blue eyes her brother had. More than that, she radiated goodness. I wished I could talk to her, understand her reasons for choosing Miles.
Tears filled my eyes when I set down the picture and saw the empty cloud-grey upholstered rocker. I could see Sophie rocking her son in it. How I ached for her and Henry. What had she seen in Miles to give him her baby?
I took my pencil out while Henry molded clay and crashed trains, and began to sketch Sophie rocking Henry on the chair. I knew it sounded crazy, but I felt like she wanted me to.
By the time afternoon rolled around and I still had a job, I decided to put away the sketch and do some work for Miles. I got out his laptop to answer fan mail while Henry stacked his large blocks as tall as he could before knocking them down. I kept waiting for Miles to come in and complain about the noise, but I never heard him stir. Did he even eat during the day? I knew his chef had come on Sunday to prepare him meals for the week. They were all neatly organized in the refrigerator downstairs that—get this—was a computer too. I could watch Netflix on it if I wanted to. Weird.
There were several emails to respond to when I logged in. His fans, mostly female, were rabid. I supposed I got the appeal. He was talented and gorgeous, but these desperate women had no idea what was behind his pretty exterior. Like this poor woman:
Dear Taron,
I just finished reading Silent Stones. It was bloody brilliant. I loved your use of allegory. The desolate castle was a beautiful way to symbolize Isabella and her journey. And those videos you’ve been posting with your nephew have me in heat. I would love to get together and discuss your works further. I live in Liverpool but do business in London all the time. After we’ve finished talking you can prove to me that smart men really do make better lovers and, from the looks of it, fathers. I’m happy to send a photo of myself. You won’t be disappointed.
Patiently waiting,
Mary
I tried not to wretch. You have me in heat. Who said things like that? I was going to just send her the standard reply, but this woman needed some help and a dose of reality and self-respect.
Dear Mary,
Get yourself a fan or throw some ice down your shirt. Not only am I a bloody bastard, but I’m a selfish douche bag without the slightest idea of how to raise a child. You know what they say about selfish men in bed. It’s all true, sweetheart. Stay away. Go find yourself a nice gentleman. Better yet, stay away from men all together. You’ll be happier, I promise.
Sincerely,
Taron
P.S. You are spot on about the book.
“Nanny,” Henry interrupted me before I could decide whether I should send the email. I mean, Miles was probably firing me anyway, right? And I was truly doing this woman a service. I set aside the laptop and career suicide to focus on my favorite part of my soon-to-be ex-job. Oh, how I would miss this little man who was tiredly rubbing his dark eyes he’d inherited from his daddy. I took him into my arms.
“Rock me,” he sleepily pled.
I eyed the rocking chair. It felt like sacred territory. I wasn’t sure if I should. Then I swore I heard Sophie say, Do it for me. With a lump in my throat, I carried Henry to the chair and reverently took a seat with him and his teddy, George. I held him tight for his mother and me while I kissed his sweet head. He snuggled into me. “Read me a story.”
My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked Series Book 3) Page 10
