There was a basket near the chair filled with books. Sitting on top was The Tiger Who Came for Tea. It looked well-loved with tattered edges. I picked it up and began to read. Henry giggled softly against my chest, half asleep. I didn’t even make it halfway through before he was sleeping soundly. I placed the book back in the basket and closed my own eyes for a minute, soaking in the moment. For Henry, I didn’t want this job to end. I was beginning to love this little boy very much. I would even put up with his broody, boorish uncle if it meant I could take care of him.
I found my own eyelids becoming heavier and heavier the longer I rocked Henry. I hadn’t slept well at all, worried about what today would bring.
I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes Miles sat on the bed staring intently at the sketch I had started of Sophie and Henry. Crap. I shut my eyes again. He’d caught me sleeping on the job. Worse, he sat closely to the open laptop I’d left on Henry’s bed with that unsent email front and center. I prayed the screen timed out or maybe the computer went into sleep mode. He wouldn’t check, would he? Maybe if I kept my eyes closed, he would go away.
I peeked my eyes open. He still stared at the sketch. His eyes were a bit misty. His show of emotion had me opening my eyes all the way. As if he knew I was staring at him, his head drifted up. Such a thoughtful gaze emanated from him. Much different from the one last night.
“Bloody hell, you are lovely,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I was apologizing, but it sounded like that was a problem for him.
“Don’t be. I knew full well when I hired you how hard it would be to . . .”
“To what?”
“Never mind,” he sighed. He held up the half-drawn picture on the doodle pad. “This is remarkable. Sophie would have loved it.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I—”
“Not at all. You captured her perfectly. She loved Henry more than the last breath she drew.” His voice faltered.
I pulled Henry tighter against me. Tears stung my eyes.
“Aspen.” He leaned forward and rested his hands on his legs. He looked like a giant sitting on the small toddler bed. “I apologize for being an arse.”
That aptly described him.
He continued, “I wouldn’t blame you, if you told me to piss off.”
My lip twitched, making him half-smile.
“But I hope you don’t. I can’t stand the thought of you thinking ill of me. There are very few people who I care what they think about me. You have quickly become one. I’ve written nothing but drivel the last two days as your chastisement has filled my thoughts. You are right, Sophie expected better of me even though she knew what a selfish bastard I could be.”
I bit my lip. Had he read the email? That’s basically what I had called him.
He gave no indication that he had and continued. “Aspen.” His eyes locked with mine. Those enigmatic things were back to making my heart sting and zing.
I held my breath waiting for him to speak. I told myself to breathe, I didn’t hold my breath for men anymore. So why weren’t my lungs filling up?
“I want to be a better man. Will you help me?”
My breath came out all at once. This wasn’t what I expected at all. He wasn’t what I expected. I thought I would be polishing my resume by now, instead I found myself nodding. I was doing it for Henry. Yes, yes. It had nothing to do with the dashing Brit who smiled at me.
Satisfied, Miles stood. “Thank you, Aspen.” He held up the picture. “Can I keep this?”
“It’s not finished.”
“When you do finish it, I would be honored to have it.”
“It’s yours,” I promised.
Pleased, he set the doodle pad back down. “Why don’t we all have dinner tonight?”
I thought for a moment. “Okay. It will have to be after soccer practice.”
“You mean football?” he teased.
“You still haven’t fact-checked me.”
“It’s on my list of things to do. I will see you tonight?” There was a fair amount of hope and anticipation in his voice.
“Yes.” Mine sounded timid.
“I look forward to it. By the way,” he pointed at the laptop on the bed. “You were mostly correct, but I am a generous lover.”
Oh holy mother of all that was good. My entire body was on fire. “I . . . uh . . .” What did I say?
“Good day.” He didn’t give me the chance to respond. He strode out chuckling.
I kissed the top of Henry’s head. “Your uncle,” I whispered, “might be my undoing.”
Chapter Fifteen
We all stared at each other at the table, well, at least Chloe, Miles, and I did. Henry was chattering happily about balls and the snacks all the girls after soccer practice shared with him. He was very popular. Those of us over the age of three knew how different this was. It almost looked like we were a family.
Chloe sat extra close to me on our side of the square bar-height table in the kitchen nook that had a farmhouse style vibe to it. Chloe wasn’t too thrilled with this arrangement. She didn’t like to eat in front of strangers and mouth noises bothered her. After promising her that Miles chewed with his mouth closed, I bribed her with that new cell phone she’d been begging me to order. Suddenly she was very excited about dinner with Miles. Together she and I faced Miles and Henry. A steaming pot of beef stew and homemade whole wheat rolls separated us.
“I’m not sure what you like to eat,” I said. All I knew was he liked to eat healthy, based on the perfectly proportioned food in his refrigerator.
“This looks and smells fantastic. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages, so thank you.”
“Well, help yourself. Or perhaps Henry first.” The tyke was already reaching for the rolls in his booster seat.
“Right.” Miles jumped to it as if he should have thought to feed Henry first on his own. That was a good sign.
While Miles served Henry, I asked, “How is the writing going?”
Miles’s shoulders raised and sank. “Not as well as I hoped. Actually, not well at all,” he was reluctant to admit.
That was disappointing. Now that he wasn’t a complete jerk, I could make a concession and read the book I’d been waiting forever for. “Anything I can do? I have some ideas,” I joked, sort of. I did have some hopes for the where the book could go.
Miles’s face lit up. “Actually, I was going to ask you for your help. Perhaps after we put Henry to bed tonight, we could discuss how you can help.”
I held my stomach. It liked the way he said we. And I liked that he was planning on helping with bedtime. “Sure,” I said nonchalantly.
Satisfied, Miles turned and finished serving Henry.
“Make sure to blow on his food to cool it down,” I gently reminded Miles. I wasn’t sure if he knew he should.
Miles squinted. “What?”
Chloe giggled while scooting over to the other side of the table to be near Henry. “It’s easy.” She picked up Henry’s bowl and started blowing on it, stirring between every few blows.
Miles watched Chloe with interest. “I’ve never seen that technique.” He laughed until Chloe handed him the bowl. “Your turn,” Chloe dared him.
He took the bowl. “Cheeky. Like mother like daughter, I see.”
“Cheeky? What does that mean?” Chloe wasn’t sure whether she should be offended.
“In yours and your mother’s case, I would say bold.” He was no doubt referring to that email I had composed to Mary and never sent . . . yet. I was holding onto it in case Miles ended up disappointing me again.
Chloe shrugged. “I can live with that.”
Miles laughed good naturedly while Chloe scooted back next to me. I squeezed her leg to let her know I approved of her actions, was even proud of them. I wished I had been bolder like her growing up. I was more daring, but if only I had stood up for myself more where her father was concerned. But then she wouldn’t be here and t
hat would be a tragedy.
When Miles was done cooling down Henry’s food, he thoughtfully turned his attention back to Chloe. “Tell me, Chloe, are you enjoying school?”
Chloe tore off a piece of roll. “For the most part I love it, except math.”
“Ah, arithmetic, the bane of my existence,” Miles commiserated with her.
“It’s a pain. I really don’t care what x equals,” Chloe commented. “I like creative writing, though, and PE.”
“You’re a writer?” Miles was very interested.
She tossed her head from side to side. “Not really. I’ve had to write some short stories for school, and in sixth grade my poem about the janitor won a contest.”
I smiled thinking of that sweet poem. I had saved it along with the award. However, I had to say that sometimes the traits of Leland’s that came out in Chloe worried me. Thankfully she wasn’t writing angsty teen poems and songs yet. But she did have a knack for writing. She had even asked me if she could take guitar lessons. I told her no because we couldn’t afford it, but that was only part of the reason. I didn’t want her to be like Leland. Not even the few good parts he had to him.
“Your janitor?” Miles asked, surprised.
“Mr. Smith. He’s the coolest. He’s blind but he can see you. He even knew all our names.”
Miles tilted his head. “How so?”
“He memorized our voices and how we walk. He said everyone has a different footstep. That’s cool, right?” Chloe popped the piece of bread in her mouth.
“Very cool. I’d love to read this poem.”
“I have a copy,” I offered.
“I look forward to it.” Miles took the ladle from me and dished his own plate. “So, do you like to read too?” he asked Chloe.
“I love the Harry Potter books.” Her eyes brightened with a thought. “Do you know J.K. Rowling?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Jo is a lovely woman.”
Chloe sighed dreamily. “You’re so lucky.”
“That I am.” Miles winked at me.
That wasn’t a flirty wink, right? And he meant he was lucky because he knew the most famous author of our time? I’m sure that’s what he meant because we were keeping this professional. I signed a contract and everything. Just to make sure I didn’t draw attention to it or my internal fretting, I did what any woman would do when one of the most beautiful men alive possibly winked at you, I started shoveling food into my mouth.
“This is fantastic.” Miles pointed at his stew with his spoon.
“Mmm,” Henry agreed.
I swallowed down my rather large bite. “I’m glad you like it.”
“We should do this more often,” Miles suggested.
I looked at every face around the table. Two, I was more than fond of. One, I didn’t want to be, but I had a feeling he was going to do his best to make that difficult. “I would like that.” That was the truth. Besides, my mom said I would have to open up some to teach Miles how to be a good father.
“I’m happy to hear that.” Miles turned from me and mussed Henry’s hair before trying to wipe his messy face. He had no idea how happy that made me, and Sophie too.
After helping Chloe with homework and getting Henry bathed, I met Miles in Henry’s room. Henry was looking adorable in his striped little man pajamas and combed back wet hair. Miles looked unsure about what he should do. It made me wonder what he had been doing before I entered the picture. I waved him over to the bed that Henry was now jumping on. I grabbed his cuteness midair and kissed his belly until he was giggling uncontrollably. I loved that sound. Selfishly, I wanted to keep on doing it, but I handed Henry over to Miles who was now sitting on the bed like me. “Uncle’s turn.”
Miles took Henry and held him out and away from him for a second, looking at him like he was a foreign object.
I cleared my throat and with my eyes and head gestures, I tried to tell him what he should do.
Henry helped him out and wrapped his arms around Miles’s neck. Shelby would have called it a precious scene. I would have agreed with her. Miles relaxed and put his arms around Henry and held him close. He naturally rubbed his back. Miles looked over Henry’s shoulder at me, his eyes asking if he was doing a good job.
I mouthed, “You’re doing great.”
That earned me his smoldering smile. The organs in my body certainly liked it. Heart was zinging more than stinging and my stomach was swishing. I reminded them both he was my boss and we all really needed to become immune to his charm.
I pulled the covers back on Henry’s bed.
Miles kissed the top of Henry’s head before laying him down.
I pulled up the covers and tucked him in tight with his teddy. “What should we read tonight?” I asked Henry.
“Caterpillar!” he shouted.
I noticed Miles winced but took a deep breath as if to remind himself he should get used to the noise. The sooner he got used to that the happier he would be. Kids tended to get louder the older they got. Thankfully, they did get better at controlling it.
I reached for The Very Hungry Caterpillar and handed it to Miles. Miles took the book, cracked it open and began reading in the most monotone voice known to mankind. Not even his sexy accent was saving him.
I pushed the book down and gave Miles a strained smile. “Perhaps you could put a little more life into it.”
Miles gave me a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
“You know, how the narrators for your books add inflection and emotion. Try that. Pretend like you’re doing reader’s theater.”
Miles smirked and handed me the book. “Why don’t you demonstrate?”
“You’re only trying to get out of it.”
“I assure you I’m not. I’m only trying to learn from the best.”
“Fine.” I snatched the book from him.
“Do the funny voice,” Henry requested.
“Yes, do the funny voice,” Miles taunted me.
I sat up straight, ready to rise to the challenge. I tapped Henry’s nose before I used my “funny” voice, which was ridiculously high-pitched at times or deep and low depending on the page, but Henry loved it as we read about all the foods the silly caterpillar ate until he became a big fat caterpillar.
Miles too was highly amused, smirking at me through the entire book, holding back a laugh.
When I reached the end, Henry and Miles clapped. I bowed, taking in the applause.
“Again,” Henry wished for an encore.
This time I let Miles have the honor, and this time he rose to the occasion. I might even admit he did a better job than me. Henry certainly enjoyed it and wanted to keep on enjoying it. He loved to stall during bedtime. Miles wasn’t as big of a pushover as me, so after two readings of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Miles told Henry it was time to go to sleep. Henry looked at me to save him, but I felt like I needed to let Miles call this shot. Henry whined, but Miles was firm with him. “I need to talk to Nanny and it’s late. Time for little mates to be asleep.”
Henry pouted but didn’t argue.
I leaned down and kissed Henry’s brow. “Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams, Nanny.” Henry turned to his Uncle, waiting for him.
Miles patted his head. “Good night, Henry.”
Henry blinked at him, waiting for more. At first Miles paused, not sure what to do, but then a dawning crept across his face. “I love you, Henry.”
Henry snuggled deeper into his covers. “I love you, Uncle.”
I was beginning to see why he did.
Chapter Sixteen
I stopped and covered my eyes before I entered Miles’s office. “Did you want to turn around your whiteboard?”
“No.”
I dropped my hand and whipped my head toward him. “Really? Are you sure?” I could hardly contain my excitement.
He swallowed hard as if he wasn’t sure, but his determined look and words said otherwise. “I’m sure. I’ve had to erase mostly everything on
it. It’s looking dismal at the moment. I’m hoping you can help.”
You don’t know how disappointed that made me. I thought for sure with all the time he spent in here, he was well into the story. “How can I help?”
“Isabella isn’t speaking to me right now.”
“Um . . . do you hear voices?”
He chuckled. “All the time, well, until the last couple of days. She seems to be giving me the silent treatment after she told me my outline was a load of bollocks.”
“You talk about her like she’s real.”
“Because to me she is as real as you or I am.” He cocked his head. “You think I’m crazy?”
“Not exactly. I guess I don’t understand the writing process.” And hello, I swore I heard his dead sister talking to me, so who was I to judge?
“Let me show you.” He waved his arm out, inviting me into his office before shutting the door. I was beginning to learn he preferred closed doors.
I did my best not to run over to the white board and sit in front of it like a captivated schoolgirl. Well, what was left of it, at least. Instead, I glanced sideways at it, gleaning what I could until Miles laughed at me.
“You can look,” he gave me permission.
I wasted no time and stood right in front of it, sad I couldn’t bask in its glory liked I’d hoped, but happy to learn anything I could from what remained. Miles stood next to me to make sense of his notes for me. He pointed at the board. “It is separated into chapters, as you can see. The first grid under each chapter states the object, conflict, and emotion. After that are the characters and their connections. Then there are plot points, locations, phrases, and conversation prompts. Or at least there should be.” He sounded discouraged.
Just seeing all the remnants of the words he had erased had me feeling sucker punched for him. “How long does it usually take you to outline?”
“Normally a few weeks, but this took months, and it was all for naught,” he sighed.
My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked Series Book 3) Page 11
