Slade glances at me. His blue eyes look different—friendlier. “This I have to see,” he says.
He looks sincere, like he really does care. And Catrine was so happy and excited. This is the moment I wanted a few days ago and never had, so I’m going to grab it. I place Finn on the ground, then move over by Slade and kneel. Slade does the same, flashing me a small smile.
“Crawl to Mommy,” Catrine says.
With one huge squeal, he’s off again. Only this time, he’s a little faster. Maybe I shouldn’t be encouraging this? “That’s it, Finn,” I say, giggling and holding my arms out. Only he crawls to Slade instead.
“Hot rod,” he says, smiling down at him. But Finn doesn’t stop, moving into his lap. Slade looks over at me. “Um . . .”
“It’s alright,” I say. “You can hold him.”
“I’m not sure I can,” he says, and I see the panic setting in. “I’ve never held a baby before.”
Catrine and I both burst out laughing, a little twenty-pound baby bringing a two hundred and something pound man to his knees. Slade isn’t a man you’d expect to see nervous. He’s controlled, guarded. But Finn has knocked that all out in one little crawl. Slade looks like a man who might be used to having people on their knees, perhaps even crawling, but not like this.
Scooting closer to them, I say, “He’s not an infant anymore, so it’s a little easier, but he does wiggle, so you’ve got to have a firm hold on him.”
He picks Finn up, but under his arms, holding him out away from his body. My poor little guy is dangling in the air. Finn’s face wrinkles up, his lip popping out. Slade moves to hand him to me. “You’re doing fine,” I say, encouraging him to bring Finn to his chest. His eyes meet mine. “Hold him close.”
“That’s what he likes?” Slade asks, his voice low and hungry.
My throat suddenly dry, I whisper, “Yes.” I stroke Finn’s little bald head as he nuzzles into Slade. “You’ve got it.”
“Are you staying the weekend?” Catrine asks Slade.
His eyes don’t leave mine when he says, “At least one night.”
“Want me to run to the store?” she asks.
Slade gets to his feet, still cradling Finn. “It’s alright. If we need to, we’ll go ourselves.”
Catrine flashes me a look, but I’m not sure what’s come over our boss, either. “Since we’re all here, should we discuss the party for the opening next week?” Slade asks.
Slade’s been involved in developing a new golf course and club just outside of Nashville. The grand opening is set for a week from now. Catrine is the go-between for the party planner and Slade.
“I’d like Paige to take over for you on this one,” Slade says, sitting down on the sofa with Finn. “You’ll be off soon, so she should learn the ropes.”
“I don’t know the first thing,” I say, surprised by his sudden display of confidence in me. “Slade, I don’t want to mess this up.”
Catrine tosses her hands up. “The party planner does most of it. Just think about it like when you were a kid and had a birthday party. You need food, dessert, entertainment. Easy.”
“But I . . .” Choking back my words, I reach for Finn, but Slade holds up his hand, motioning that the baby is now comfortably resting on his chest. No longer able to fight back the barrage of emotions in me, I push on my eyes, my hand running through my hair.
Slade sits up just slightly. “Catrine, give us a minute.”
She looks at me first, and I give her a little nod that I’m fine before she disappears into another room. “If this is too much, then I’ll find someone else to coordinate,” Slade says.
“No, no, I’ll do it,” I say, not wanting to do anything to put my job at risk. Sitting down beside him, I stroke Finn’s little foot. Slade just waits, watching me. He’s my boss. He deserves an explanation and to be reassured I can handle it. Softly, I whisper, “I’ve never had a party before, so I’m not sure what I’m doing. But I can figure it out.”
“Never?” he asks. I shake my head. “A cake, balloons, presents?” Another head shake. “Not one ever?”
Looking down, I’m not sure why I’m ashamed of that, but I am. How pitiful and pathetic I must seem to him. But that’s the truth. Most of the time, no one even remembered. My birthday could come and go, and no one would even wish me a “Happy Birthday,” much less get me a card, cake, or a gift.
“Well, you’ll need to learn because I see a lot of race car parties in this little guy’s future,” Slade says, pushing out a smile.
I look up at him. Finn in his arms, playing with the stubble on his face. I’ve never seen Finn in a man’s arms before, outside of his doctor. “I grew up in the system, in and out of foster care,” I say. “My mom lost custody because she did drugs and was a . . .” I just can’t say it. “Her pimp tried to recruit me when I was barely fifteen. When I refused, he beat me up, and the police got involved. That’s when I was taken from her for good.”
“Where’s your mom now?” he asks.
“Not sure.”
He leans up slightly, reaching out, but doesn’t touch me. “I need to ask you something. It’s not a jab, but I need to know.” I give him a little nod. “Is there anyone? A pimp or a madam that might be looking for you?”
“No,” I state firmly.
“What about Finn’s dad?” he asks.
“No.”
“Was he one of your clients?”
“Give him to me,” I say, almost ripping Finn from his arms and flying to my feet.
“Paige,” he says, standing up and rubbing the sides of my arms. “I only ask because if there’s someone you need protection from, I can help. You’re safe here. You both are.”
“I’ll handle the party,” I say.
“Do you not know?” he asks quietly. “Who his father is?”
My hand whips across his face with such force that it leaves my palm print on his cheek. I suddenly realize what I’ve done. I just hit my boss. It’s not the first time I’ve hit a man, but it’s always been to fight back or fight them off. What have I done? Regret shoots through my veins, and my body starts to tremble and shake. “I’m sorry. Dear God, I’m sorry.”
His hands come up, and I instinctively cower, sheltering Finn while bracing for the impact. “Paige,” he says softly.
I don’t look up, still covering Finn, waiting.
“I’m not going to hit you,” Slade says gently. “I would never.”
It takes me a second before I find the courage to turn my eyes up to him. One look into his handsome face, and God help me, but I believe him.
Slowly, he reaches out again, running his hands through my hair before doing the same to Finn’s bald head. His touch is soft and tender. No man has ever touched me like this. Ever.
“I don’t know who my father is,” I sob quietly. “Because my mom was a prostitute.” His blue eyes hold mine, that ugly truth not scaring him away, which makes me open up more. “When I was very little, I used to imagine him as some sort of hero who would come and rescue me.” I shake my head. “Stupid. A man like that is no better than my mother.”
His lips curve up in a small smile. Maybe he agrees with me. The woman always gets the bad rap for being a whore, but what about the men who pay for that service? Are they really any better? As far as I’m concerned, they’re worse. At least the woman is honest about what she does. The man is probably sneaking around on his wife or girlfriend. And don’t even get me started on the boys will be boys nonsense. Having a penis is not an excuse for bad behavior. Finn will know that.
“Your face,” I whisper, my fingers grazing his red cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “But I wasn’t passing judgment on you.”
“I just can’t talk about it. I want to give Finn a better life and not think about all that bad stuff.”
“I know,” he whispers. “More than you think I do.”
Something in his eyes, his voice, makes me believe he does get it. My ey
es well up, and I gently hold his cheek in my hand. “It’s so red.”
He inches closer to me. “It’s alright.”
I’m not sure what comes over me. The only thing I can think about is making it better. Clearly, I’m taking this mommy thing to new levels, and I lean in and softly kiss Slade’s cheek. It wasn’t more than what people casually do when they greet each other, but when I pull back, there’s a desire in his eyes, the heat filling up the space between us.
Finn reaches up and smacks my cheek this time. I catch his little hand. “Good to know he’s on my side,” Slade says, giving him a little tickle. “Us men have to stick together.”
“Oh great,” I say. “When Catrine leaves, I’ll be outnumbered.”
He flashes me a wicked grin. “I like those odds.”
*
Let’s recap—in the past five minutes, I’ve slapped my boss and kissed him. On the cheek, but still. Maybe it was better when he was never here.
Catrine pops her head in my bedroom door and asks, “Hey, you alright?”
“Yeah, thanks for checking.”
“Don’t worry about the party,” she says. “I’ll help you. We’ll get it done.”
“You’ve done a lot of these for Slade?”
“A few,” she says. “They’re always a lot of fun. Although I have no idea what I’m going to wear to this one because I’m so huge. We’ll have to do some shopping. Maybe drive into Nashville.”
I look down at my shorts and tank top, unable to remember the last time I did any shopping at something other than a resale shop. “That would be fun.”
“Do you have anyone to watch Finn?” she asks. “We could get our nails done, too.”
“I really don’t,” I say. “I’ve been meaning to try to find someone nearby.”
“Well, we can just take turns holding him.”
It’s just the kind of frivolous stuff I shouldn’t spend money on, but going out and having fun is part of having friends. I can splurge a little.
“Okay, so I’ll be back on Monday morning, and we’ll get to work,” she says, heading for the door. But she turns back and laughs. “Don’t take any shit from Slade this weekend. He may own the house, but we run it.”
I can hear her giggling all the way down the hallway. Quickly, I change Finn, then head into the kitchen to get his dinner together. It doesn’t involve cooking, but it does involve a huge mess. I swear I need a hazmat suit to feed this child. Usually, I don’t mind, but Slade’s here at least for the night. He may not approve of our lack of table manners in his house.
Even though I’m still struggling to sleep, I’ve gotten used to being here alone at night, so I’m not quite sure how to act when I walk into the kitchen and find Slade holding up a clean baby bottle.
“Sorry, I should’ve picked that up,” I say. “I’m sure you didn’t plan for baby stuff to take over your house.”
“It’s fine,” he says, opening a cabinet. “You can just put his stuff in here. If you need more room, just move some stuff around. This shouldn’t be like you’re living out of a suitcase.”
“It’s not. We’re comfortable here.”
“Good. And when he’s ready, we can move him into his own room.” He takes Finn out of my arms. “You’ll need room for your trucks, won’t you?”
“Maybe he’ll like books or art and not trucks,” I tease.
“Your mommy has lost it. Trucks, sports, horses, and women, and not in that order,” he says, poking Finn’s belly and making him giggle.
“Oh good Lord,” I say, opening the refrigerator. Finn immediately starts wiggling around in Slade’s arms.
“Damn, kid,” Slade says. “You like to eat, just like me.”
“Yeah, but he’s having avocado and banana,” I say, grabbing what I need.
“No,” Slade says. “You can’t feed him that. He’s a growing boy.”
“What would you have me feed him? He has no teeth.”
“Bacon?” he says, grinning. I take Finn from his arms, looking up at his smile. Slade’s very charming when he’s not being an asshole. He’s got one of those smiles that I’m sure gets him anything he wants. “At least mix some bacon grease or sugar in with that.”
“Stop it!” I laugh. “He likes it.”
“That’s because he doesn’t know any better. Give him some ice cream, and he’ll never eat that shit again.”
Rolling my eyes, I sit down with Finn in my lap. He’s so excited he’s squirming all around, making it hard for me to get the lids off the baby food. With Finn’s pediatrician’s approval, I started him on solid food as early as I could, around four months. He was ready, and it’s cheaper for me to make my own baby food.
“You need one of those baby chair things,” Slade says, taking Finn back from me.
“A high chair?”
“Yeah,” he says, sitting down with Finn in his lap. “You’re ordering one of those tonight. This is too hard to do by yourself.”
“We do alright,” I say.
“I know that,” he says, cutting through my defensiveness. “Alright, let me see if you’re telling the truth about him liking that green crap.”
“You’re sure? It can get a little messy.” He just shrugs, so I get a small spoonful of avocado. Finn is so excited, his arms and legs moving a mile a minute. Somehow, I get the first spoonful in his mouth. His chubby body does this little wiggle in delight, and Slade bursts out laughing. “Told you.”
“Told you, poor kid doesn’t know any better.”
I’m rolling my eyes hard, which might explain why the second spoonful ends up on the floor. “Finn,” I scold gently. This time, when the spoon comes close to his mouth, he grabs it, helping me shove it in.
I’ve done this enough times to know I’m not getting that spoon back, so I grab another baby spoon. This is where the real fun starts. Finn takes another bite, then sticks his spoon in his mouth, pulling out a lovely heap of mashed avocado and baby drool. I try to catch it, but it drips on Slade’s jeans. Trying not to laugh, I reach over to wipe it away. His blue eyes watch my hand gently swiping his leg. “We get just as much on the floor as we get in his mouth,” I say, looking away.
Placing the avocado on the table, I pick up the container with the banana. Finn tries to slap my hand away, but I’m on my game this time. “Banana,” I say. “You like bananas.”
“Demand bacon,” Slade whispers in Finn’s ear.
I tilt my head, giving him a coy smile. “Maybe you should show him how good it is?” I say, holding the spoon up to Slade’s mouth. Pursing his lips, he shakes his head, but little Finn looks up at him and holds up his own spoon.
Slade barely opens up his mouth wide enough for me to shove the baby spoon in. “Mmm,” I tease, nodding my head.
“Mmm.” Slade mimics me, acting as if he loves it. Finn reaches up, trying to stick his little fingers in Slade’s mouth to pry it open. Laughing, Slade grabs the spoon from me. “Okay, your turn.”
He gets the biggest scoop of bananas possible and holds it out for me. Our eyes lock again, and I slip the spoon in my mouth and swallow. His eyes watch my mouth, my neck, my tongue as I lick my lips. Suddenly, I’m very hot.
“Umm, I should clean up. It’s close to Finn’s bedtime, and I still need to bathe him and give him a bottle.”
He watches me as I wipe up the floor and the counter before whipping off Finn’s bib. I’m like one of the vampires in Twilight, moving lightning fast. When I’m done, I take Finn from his arms. “Guess I should clean up, too,” he says.
“Me, too,” I say, motioning to the stains on my shirt.
“Want me to watch him for you?”
“That’s okay. I usually wait until he goes to sleep, or we just bathe together.”
“Lucky boy,” he says playfully, but his eyes say something totally different. Unable to think of a witty comeback, I head for the door. “Paige,” he calls, causing me to turn around. “You didn’t eat.”
“I do that once Finn’s
asleep.”
“Then I’ll see you in a little bit,” he says, giving me a hopeful grin.
*
Finn almost falls asleep in the bathtub. The poor little guy is so tired. If he gets up at all at night, it’s usually just once. But lately, he’s been sleeping a good ten to twelve hours a night. I get him down a little later than usual, then grab the baby monitor and head toward the kitchen. I’m starving.
Glancing down at my knee socks, shorts, and T-shirt, I wonder if I should’ve put something else on. It’s a little weird to wear my nightclothes in front of Slade. I kept my bra on, but there’s nothing normal about your boss knowing what you sleep in. Minus the socks. I don’t sleep in the socks, but the floors here can be cold.
Maybe the cold feet are about something else or someone else. I step into the kitchen, seeing Slade at the stove. He’s changed, too, wearing baggy sweatpants and a white T-shirt with no socks. But his sweatpants look much better on him than my shorts look on me. I shouldn’t be noticing that.
He looks back over his shoulder at me. “Tonight, we have steak.”
“Smells good,” I say, unable to remember the last time I had steak. “But we need some sides.”
“Learn that on those cooking shows you watch?” he asks. I freeze, my feet unable to move. Told you these floors are cold. He glances back at me. “Paige?”
“Are there cameras in the house?” I ask. “Are you watching me?” He steps away from the stove, his blue eyes giving nothing away. “Answer me.”
“I’m just confused,” he says. “Where is this coming from?”
“How’d you know I watch the Cooking Channel?” I ask.
He gives me a little shrug. “When I turn on any television in this house, that’s the channel that comes on. I’ve never known Catrine to watch cooking shows, so I assumed it was you.”
My body starts to thaw. “Sorry.”
He turns back to his meat. “There’s something like three hundred channels. So what’s up with you watching cooking all the time?”
I move closer. The steaks look almost done, leaving me no time to make any real side dishes. Opening up the refrigerator, I pull out the spinach salad I made earlier. “It relaxes me.”
The Right Side of Wrong Page 7
