She’s watching, waiting for answers, and I can’t lie to her. She’s one of my best friends.
“You cannot tell anyone, including Ciara and Ashton. I mean it,” I warn her.
“Oh my God, do you really work as a spy for the government?” she whispers, rushing further into the room.
That’s actually pretty cool. Why have I never thought of that?
“I d—”
“She works for me at a radio/podcast station, giving love and sex advice to women,” Clayton interrupts, pointedly watching me.
At a quick glance, I thought Hope was processing it, but looking closer, her shoulders are shaking. I jump when she bursts into laughter.
She takes us both in before laughing even harder. And it continues. And continues.
Punching Clayton lightly in the arm, I release my fury on him. “You’ve broken her.”
“No, I didn’t,” he fires back. “You should have been honest with her.”
“Why would you tell her?” I yell, throwing my hands up. I’m trying so hard not to strangle him. Even drunk out of my mind I’ve not let it slip about what I do for a living. That I know of anyway. And in one moment he may as well have had my whole family in and told them.
“Why would you not?” he asks, stepping away when I slap him again. “Will you stop slapping me.”
I grit my teeth. “If I wanted them to know about my occupation, I would have told them myself. Now my life is over. Over, Clayton!”
“Now you’re just being dramatic. Stop acting so crazy.”
“Crazy?” I grit out, taking a step towards him. He has the sense to take one back, his body tensing. “You’ve not seen crazy. My family is crazy. And you’ve just set them upon me. My dad is going to be insufferable for months, acting like I’m the one who traumatised him when we all know he brings it on himself. I’m going to be the person they come to for advice.”
I step back, taking a deep breath.
“Um…”
I step forward, poking him in the chest. ‘And do not act all snotty with me either. You did something I asked you not to do.”
“Oh my gosh, he’s serious,” Hope interrupts, her voice low, disbelieving.
That’s when I notice the entire room is silent. Uncomfortably so.
“You can’t tell anyone,” I warn her, desperation leaking into my voice.
“But you give people advice on relationships?” she asks for clarification.
“Yes,” I whine, wishing she would forget what she heard.
Her nose scrunches up. “Is that wise?”
Why did she have to say it like she was worried for me, or rather, for other people? “What do you mean by that?”
Nervously, she fiddles with her hair, twirling it around her finger. “Well, when you gave Maddox advice about the girl who wouldn’t stop stalking him, he slept with her sister. Who ended up being married, need I remind you. He nearly got arrested for defending himself.”
I roll my eyes. “I told him to do something that puts her off him. Not like it would be hard with all his faults. I didn’t know he would sleep with her sister.”
“And that time you told Madison—”
“I didn’t know all the facts,” I rush out, my voice rising. “How was I meant to know the guy had a twitch? She said he was winking at her a lot.”
“You told her to make a grand gesture, and not only did she fall on her face when she wore the heels you made her wear, but he was gay.”
“Maybe we should look—” Clayton starts.
I point my index finger in his face. “Shut it.”
“I’m just saying that maybe—”
“You’ve said enough,” I growl, before pleading with Hope, hoping to reach her soft heart. “Will you please keep this between us?”
A cunning expression flashes across her face. “What’s in it for me?”
“Are you serious? We’re family. Isn’t that enough?”
“Deadly,” she declares. “I had to do your chores for a week when you covered for me over the whole Harry thing.”
I laugh, remembering the time I caught her kissing a boy. Her dad was walking around the corner, and to keep quiet, I made her take my chores.
“Fine,” I tell her, thinking of something she might want. I groan at the thought, but I know it’s something she’d come up with anyway. “I’ll give Maddox a key so he can sleep at mine and not bother you.”
She grins in triumph, pumping her fist into the air. “Deal.”
“Who is Maddox?” Clayton asks, and for a moment, he sounds angry, but I blink, believing I imagined it.
Laughing erupts around the room, and I freeze, forgetting for a moment that we aren’t alone.
A woman stands beside the bed, her tall, willowy frame elegant in her white blouse and black trousers. She screams sophistication.
Her thick, light brown hair is pulled back tight into a bobble at the back of her neck. She’s beautiful.
And from the familiar facial features, I’m guessing this is Clayton’s sister.
She watches on in amusement, a twinkle in her eye.
“What?” I check my teeth, making sure nothing is stuck there.
“Told you she was great,” Weston gloats.
I bounce on the balls of my feet. “Awe, you said I was great?” Pride fills me, but then something nags at me. “Wait, why am I great?”
“Nothing,” his daughter replies, her lips still twitching. “I’m Mia, Clayton’s sister.”
“Hayden,” I mumble when she shares a moment with her brother, leaving me out of the silent communication going on.
“No, Mia, just no,” he affirms.
“Am I missing something?”
“Just ignore Mia. She thinks she’s clever.”
“Um, okay,” I drawl out.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need Clayton and Mia to come with me to sign in their father and fill in the paperwork. We can also go over the care plan while we settle Mr Cross in,” Tracey announces.
“Lead the way,” Clayton replies.
“Dad, we’ll be back as soon as we’ve filled everything out.”
“Go, I’ll be fine,” he promises.
She leans down, kissing him on the cheek before following Clayton and Tracey out.
“You really give advice?” Hope asks once they’re gone.
“Yes, now drop it.”
“I just can’t picture it.”
“Don’t you have other stuff to do?”
“Yes, I’m going. See you at dinner,” she informs me, dropping Weston’s chart in the slot at the end of the bed.
Once she’s gone, I look at the boxes stacked in the corner. The rooms here are a good size compared to other care homes. One half is basically set up like a hospital room, only a little homier. It has a bed that reclines, a sink, two chairs and a few cabinets. And the access to the bathroom is in the corner. On the other side, it has two comfy recliners, a bookshelf, a wardrobe, chest of drawers, and a T.V. unit that can be wheeled around the room. There are also a few shelves and wall hooks for personal effects and pictures.
However, even with the large space, it doesn’t seem big enough to unpack what’s in those boxes.
“So, I’d ask you what you’re in for, but I already know. What I don’t know is what you’ve done to your leg. You didn’t try to do the Floss again, did you?”
He laughs. “I’ve missed your smart mouth, young lady.”
“I knew you liked me.”
“I fell while going to the loo. Fractured two bones.”
I scrunch my nose up. “If anyone asks, you were riding a motorcycle around town. Sounds cooler.”
His face gets some colour back. “I like that reason better.”
“Me too, but, Weston, is that a reason to be here though? You could afford a nurse.”
He pats the side of the bed, so I walk over and sit down on the edge, near his good leg.
“I’m old and I’m dying.”
“Morbid,
” I comment, yet a sadness hits me. He’s a good person, was a good boss. He doesn’t deserve this.
His chuckle turns into a wheezing cough, so I lean over, pulling the tray with water on towards me. I hand him the glass, giving him a moment to gather himself.
“I didn’t… I didn’t want to be at home. They watched my wife, their mother, die there. I don’t want them to go through that again. I don’t want them changing their routines to look after an old man. Clayton, he was always going to take over, but his career was taking off, then the…” He closes his eyes, his face scrunched up like a memory is causing him physical pain. I want to ask more about Clayton, but I can tell now isn’t the time. “He wasn’t ready. And Mia, she just got partner at the accountancy firm she works at. She has a husband. I can’t ask them to put their lives on hold for me. I’ll be gone soon, and they will need their work to fall back on, especially Clayton.”
I squeeze his knee, finding it hard not to become emotional. What he’s doing is selfless. Even in his last moments, he is looking out for his children.
“That is very brave of you. But, Weston, they want to be there for you.”
“And they can. But at least with me here they won’t be worrying all the time that I’m alone. They won’t need to drop anything or come to my aid if a nurse calls in sick.”
“But—”
He reaches out, placing his cold hand over mine. “Stop, Hayden. I’m fine with my decision. I’ve not taken a holiday in ten years. I’m going to act like this is one.”
“Okay, okay,” I give in. “But, dude, what is with all the boxes?”
“They packed up my room at home. Anything sentimental was important to me, so they boxed it up. I need them close,” he tells me, but there’s more in his voice. There are treasures in those boxes that he wants to see before he goes. And I can understand that. My nan was ill before she passed, but she died peacefully in my grandfather’s arms. When we found them, it was devasting but beautiful at the same time. If I could choose the way I would leave this world, it would be exactly how they did, in my sleep. I want to leave this world in the arms of someone I love and surrounded by family.
Weston is a ticking time bomb. He could go any minute, and he wants to spend it surrounded by the things he loves. The people he loves. And to know that everything will be okay when he leaves.
I can’t fault him for that.
“Why don’t I start getting you settled in while we wait for Clayton and Mia to come?”
“Go for it, but they won’t mind doing it.”
I check no one is at the door before telling him, “Between you and me, I’d rather clean toilets than go to the next room on the list. The woman staying there has a thing for hitting and spitting at me. And while we’re on the subject, stay away from room two-zero-two and her guest.”
“Why?” he asks, his lips twitching as he takes deep, steady breaths.
“Because Satan created them to be thorns in the world. I’m worried they’ll take you with them. Don’t let them corrupt you.”
He chuckles, wheezing a little. “You, Hayden Carter, scared of two old women.”
A deflated sigh escapes me. “No, I’m worried I’ll kill them.”
He laughs, slapping his thigh. “I’m so glad I’ll have you here on the days you work.”
I smile, giving him another glass of water. “It’s because of my personality, right?”
“Something like that.” He clears his throat before continuing. “How is it, working with my Clayton?”
Taken off guard, I dig my nails into the palms of my hands. I can’t give him the answer he needs right now. Or wants to hear. Telling him that you want to kill his son, yet imagine fucking said son on his desk, isn’t exactly something you should admit to a dying man.
“What?” he asks, clearly clicking on to the fact I don’t want to answer.
“You do not want to ask that while you are high on meds.”
“When did you start stopping yourself from speaking your mind? And what do my meds have to do with it?”
It’s my turn to grin. “Because when I hand you your arse, I want you to remember. Now, get some rest and I’ll get this room looking homier. When Clayton and Mia come back, they can let me know if they want anything moved.”
“I won’t argue. I am feeling a little drowsy,” he admits, ducking his head. It must be hard for a hardworking, independent man to rely on the care of others.
“Get some sleep,” I whisper, waiting until his eyes close to move.
Reaching for the first box, a thought hits me like a ton of bricks, and I groan. Not only will I be working at the station alongside Clayton or going on dates with him watching close by, but I’ll have to see him here too.
I’m so fucking screwed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The air is below freezing tonight as I step out of the car. I’m glad Hope had a coat that went with my red, form-fitting dress. All I had were leather jackets, nothing that went with the type of restaurant I’m at. The black wool coat falls to my knees and is buttoned up to my chest. It has a belt that goes around it, but instead of tying it around me, I decided to tie it at the back, not wanting that feeling of being restricted.
The restaurant is located next to a beautiful lake. Rivers has been open a few months, and the lavish steak house has nothing but good reviews online. I’m excited to try some yummy goodness off their menu.
Outside, it has a patio area with tables, sheltered by the wooden pavilion gazebo. If the food turns out to be good, I’d definitely like to come back to see this in a summer setting.
Stepping inside, the warmth engulfs me. The place is fancy, maybe a little too fancy, which is probably why I didn’t hear about it opening until Clayton mentioned where I’d be attending my first date.
It’s one of the many restaurants on a list of things to do with Date Night. It’s the first phase of their programme. The second, if you choose to see your date again, is an activity date. They have nature walks to rock climbing to choose from. The third phase is an away date, though you have the option to continue with phase one or two until you are ready.
“Hayden?” Clayton calls, sounding unsure. I turn around and lose my breath. He’s wearing a navy-blue suit with a burgundy tie, a sliver clip in the middle.
I can only ogle the fine specimen in front of me.
He is ridiculously hot.
Why did he have to be an ass?
And my boss?
It takes me a moment to notice he’s checking me out too. I had undone my coat stepping inside, so he has full view of my tits and how hot I look in my dress. It clings in all the right places.
What surprises me is how suddenly his posture changes. He shakes his head, like he’s clearing his mind, before he straightens. Jaw clenched, he glares down at me.
“Great, you’re here. We now only have forty-five minutes to go over the plans for tonight.”
Maybe he wasn’t checking me out.
“I’m ten minutes late. I had to go back home to change my shoes. I couldn’t drive in them.”
“You mean the two-hundred-pound a pair shoes? That you had to have?”
I grin, finding satisfaction in his pouting. “Yes. Now, are we going to keep wasting time or go sit down?”
He opens his mouth to argue but decides against it.
“Come on,” he orders, heading over to the podium.
I take the time to look around. There’s a lot of beige, golds and soft tones decorating the restaurant. The dim lighting is what gives it warmth. What gives it colour is the green. There are lots of tiny shrubs with twinkle lights wrapped around them. I like it. It makes the place stand out against all the other restaurants who copy each other by having pictures of landscapes or old-fashioned ornaments decorating the place.
“Welcome to Rivers, Mr Cross. Tonight, you are in the Dove suite. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll get you seated,” the waitress explains, her perky ponytail swishing side to side with her energetic mo
vements.
We follow her into the main room, just off the entrance. The main dining room is modern and inviting. Candlelight flickers from the tables, which are decorated with beautiful candle holders, gold swirls flickering in all directions.
When we step into the next room, I can’t help the small shot of anxiety that tries but fails to creep up my spine. It’s there, lingering on the surface, for reasons unknown. I’m a confident person in all aspects of my life, but this feeling is foreign. It’s as if the room is screaming at me to get out, that I don’t belong. And I don’t. I have a foul mouth, don’t care who I smart off to, and love hamburgers for dinner.
Once the thought enters my mind, I snort to myself. I’m Hayden Carter: I belong where I want to belong, other people be damned. And who cares if I stand out against other diners who are thick with jewels and sparkly dresses or expensive suits.
We head towards the back of the room, where four extremely large bay windows are, giving us the beautiful view of the lake. They’ve decorated the trees with fairy lights, and the reflection bouncing off the still water is mesmerizing.
But what takes my breath away is the ivy running up the walls and along the ceiling, white flowers blossoming out of the green.
Someone took great lengths to give this place character and charm, and they succeeded. It’s bewitching.
With the twinkle lights weaving in and out of the ivy, it gives the room an intimate charge. It isn’t just sexual, it’s something else; something I can’t quite grasp the understanding of.
“Are you coming?” Clayton asks, before having to clear his throat.
I pull my gaze away from the ceiling to find his heated gaze on mine. I get lost in his eyes, and for a minute, I forget we aren’t here together on a date. For one split second, I forget he’s my boss and take a step forward, wanting to pull him towards me and wrap my arms around his neck.
The realisation hits me and I pause, rubbing my chest, drawing his attention to my tits. My heart is racing, and although the crazy part of my brain wants to launch myself at him and make him forget his name, the other part, the part I inherited from my mum, has my feet firmly glued to the floor.
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