by Mia Carson
“How could you let her walk back into your life like this?’
“Because she needed me and we parted on good terms,” he argued. “She’s a good person, and I think it’s high time I met my son.”
“She’s only after your money, that has to be it,” Melody said, the words filled with venom, but she said it more to herself than to him. “She wants what you have. Can’t you see that?”
Stan shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Now if you don’t mind, they’ll be back soon and I want to finish getting my son’s bedroom ready and making room in mine for Remy’s things.” He rolled towards her and ushered her to the front door, keeping her moving as he pushed his chair after her. “Goodbye, Melody. I’ll be sure to let them know our dinner tonight came from my favorite neighbor.”
“Stanford, as your friend, I really think you should reconsider this whole situation.”
“And I appreciate you looking out for me, but I can take care of myself, as vulnerable as you might think I am.” She kept talking, but Stan stopped listening and closed the door solidly in her face. Hanging his head with a sigh, he spun around in his chair and stared into the depths of a house that wouldn’t be empty much longer. “What the fuck did I just do?”
Remy piled the items from her cart on the counter, grinning widely at the three model ship kits she was getting for Louis along with the newest version of Battleship she could find, a few sets of Legos, and a set of books based on what was in the packet of information.
“You sure you’re buying enough?” Callie teased her as the cashier rang up her purchases.
“What? He’s ten and I don’t know what he’s bringing with him,” Remy said as she pulled out her debit card. “I can’t have him sitting around the house all day doing nothing.”
“You know, he’s probably just going to watch TV all day like most kids his age.”
“Oh, that reminds me, we have to make one more stop on the way back. Do you mind or do you need to get home and find a new spot in the apartment to have sex with Matt?” she asked, arching her eyebrow as Callie’s face flared red.
The cashier—an older woman with greying hair—smirked, obviously amused, but didn’t say anything.
“Look, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry for you walking in on that?”
“At least a hundred more,” she said, laughing. “You realize I’m never going to let you live this one down? How can I? I mean shit, Callie, do you two do anything else?”
The cashier chuckled as Callie buried her face in her hands with a groan. “Yes, we do, thanks.”
They finished the transaction and set the large bags of toys back in the cart. Spending the day with Callie was just what Remy needed to get her mind off the brooding man in a wheelchair at the Wellington mansion. Stan confused her more than anything, and when she left the house, her emotions were a such jumbled mess she couldn’t figure out where one thought ended and the next started. He shouldn’t be allowed to be that attractive while being an utter, arrogant asshole. She tried to look more into his accident, but beyond the articles in the paper, nothing else was mentioned about it. She wasn’t sure what his injuries were or why he wasn’t healed. What she did know was the accident had changed him from the partying-all-weekend bachelor to a man who drove away what she had a feeling was a very caring staff.
“Hey, are you listening to me?” Callie asked a few minutes later when they pulled out of the parking lot.
“Huh? Yeah, sorry. I’m totally listening,” she said, but Callie rolled her eyes. “Fine, what did you say?”
“I asked what was going on with you and that man of yours?”
Remy frowned. “Man of mine? I don’t have a man.”
“By the way you’re so distracted and fidgety, I say you do.”
Remy shook her head. “I don’t, I swear it. You’d be the first to know, and besides, I can’t get involved with Stanford Wellington.”
“Is he ugly or something? I heard he’s quite the looker.” She waggled her eyebrows as they came to a stop at a red light. “Come on, you’re young and single and still a virgin, last I checked. Why not have a fling with the single billionaire dad. Or is he gay?” she added in a whisper. “Because then I would understand the confusion.”
“No, he’s not gay.” Remy rubbed her forehead hard. “He’s just… picture Bruce Wayne but stuck in a wheelchair all day long.”
“He’s a cripple?”
“No, he was in a boating accident a year ago and hasn’t healed yet or something.”
“So he’s what, dark and brooding? I could handle dark and brooding,” Callie mused, speeding around cars and going well over the speed limit.
“Could you watch the lead foot there? I’d prefer not to get in a car crash today.”
Callie sighed but eased off the gas. “Worry wart. But really, what’s wrong with brooding? Brooding can be sexy, especially if he does the smolder look.”
“Smolder look?” Remy asked, staring at her friend. “What the hell is that?”
“You know,” Callie said and pursed her lips while she furrowed her brow and squinted her eyes until Remy lost it, giggling hysterically as her friend kept trying to remake the same face over and over. “That face.”
Remy held her head, her hair blowing in the wind as she stared at cars they passed. Stan didn’t have a smolder look. A scowl she worried would become permanent on his face, but not a smolder. She had only known him for a day—well, two—but she was pulled to him for some reason. Maybe she was hired as the nanny for more than just his son. Maybe there was something else pushing her into his life.
“Do you believe in fate?” she asked Callie as she parked the corvette outside the gaming store.
Callie turned off the car and erupted in a fit of giggles as they exited the vehicle. “What? You mean like from the movies? Oh, God, Remy, I knew we should’ve hung out more this summer. You spent too much time wrapped up with those kids and that old man.”
“Never mind, forget I asked.”
“What’s this about, Remy?” Callie asked and drew her friend to a stop.
She tossed her head back, watching the white fluffy clouds pass by overhead while the sun beat down on her face, warming her skin. “I feel like I’m supposed to be at his house, like this job wasn’t just a chance happening. I don’t know, I can’t explain it, so forget it. I sound like a damn crazy person.”
“You’re an artist. You always sound like a crazy person.”
Remy shoved her as they walked towards the entrance to the store. “I thought you liked my art.”
“I do, but I think it does tend to make you a little loopy,” she said, whistling as she twisted her hair around her ear in circles. “Some of that stuff you come up with is dark. Darker than I would ever expect from you.”
“You’re not worried about me, are you?”
Callie lifted her shoulders, let them drop, and bit her lip. “Most days, no, but you are a loner. You have me and…me.”
“But I’m not unhappy with my life,” Remy argued, stopping just short of the front doors. “I had a good childhood and have great parents, and love my jobs. Loners are hermits, they’re people like…like Stanford Wellington.”
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with you. But I worry sometimes that you’re missing out on living your own life because you do this.”
“Do what?”
“Get wrapped up in other people’s families and their lives, get so invested in their problems that you don’t slow down to take a look at where you are,” Callie said, exasperated.
Remy shifted on her feet as the hot breeze ruffled her hair. Was her friend right? Most of her days, even as a teenager, were spent babysitting or watching the neighbors’ pets and their houses. She volunteered a lot, but her parents taught her it was important to be helpful and give back. When she started being a full-time nanny and housekeeper, she couldn’t do her job very well if she blocked herself off emotionally from the people she worked for.
<
br /> “I need to get back to the house soon,” she said quietly. “Why don’t you let me run in by myself, and I’ll be real quick.”
“Remy, wait,” Callie said and reached for her arm.
“No, really, it’s fine,” she insisted, faking a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
She found the latest gaming system, and with the help of the store clerk, picked out a few games that would be appropriate for a ten-year-old boy, trying the whole time not to let Callie’s words get to her too much. The words echoed through her mind, sounding very familiar to words her mom had told her not too long ago. She was twenty-five and needed to start her own life, take care of her own family.
But you have no family, she thought as the store clerk bagged up her items. You haven’t had a boyfriend last more than a few weeks and you have no idea what you even want to do with your life!
She carried the bags to the corvette where Callie leaned against the side. “All set,” Remy told her and placed the bags in the trunk with everything else.
“Want to get dinner or something?”
“No, I need to get this stuff set up for tomorrow and take care of a few other things I told Stan I would do for him,” she lied, not wanting to deal with Callie giving her that mixed look between annoyance and something that bordered on pity. Remy didn’t need her pity. She had a good life. She might not have a guy she had sex with twenty times a day on various pieces of furniture, but she had nothing to be upset about in her life.
Callie drove her back to the mansion, neither of them saying a word the entire drive. Remy picked the bags out of the trunk and waved to her friend. She dumped the packages on the front porch and dug around for the key she was given yesterday. It took three trips to get everything inside and finally close the front door. The house was quiet, so she assumed Stan was out in his workshop. She let him be, taking the toys up to Louis’ bedroom, all except the gaming console and video games. Those she moved to the sitting room towards the back of the house with the big, flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. She was so busy setting up the system and muttering obscenities under her breath when she couldn’t get it working, she didn’t hear Stan wheel into the room. She only noticed him sitting there when she stood in a rage, hauling back one of the controllers to chuck it across the room, and spotted him watching her, an amused smile twinkle in his eyes.
“You know, I don’t think throwing it across the room will make it work,” he suggested.
“Maybe not,” she agreed, lowering her hand, “but it’d sure make me feel better.”
“Rough day?”
“No…maybe…it doesn’t matter,” she rambled and plopped back down on the floor, crossing her legs as she did so. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of buying some things for Louis.”
“You bought this for him?” he asked, confused.
“Yeah, and some other stuff. It’s all upstairs already, though. Why, you don’t like video games?”
Stan held out his hand for the instruction manual and remotes. “I do. I just never thought to get them for a kid… my kid. Damn, I’m going to suck at this dad thing.”
“No, it’ll just take time.”
“I’ll pay you back for everything you bought today. Just give me the receipts.” He fiddled with the remotes and smirked when the TV turned on with the main menu screen for the console on it. “I think it’s all set now.”
“Thanks.” She turned the wireless controllers on and handed him one.
“What do you want me to do with this?”
“You can’t have games and not know how to play them,” she said. “So we’re going to play. I guess I should make food first. You hungry?”
“Actually, there’s a casserole in the fridge. Just throw it in the oven.”
Remy nodded slowly at the weird look of guilt on his face. “Where did the casserole come from?”
“A friendly neighbor dropped it off this afternoon.”
“Uh huh, and do they normally give you food?” she asked, giving him a crooked grin.
“Every now and then. I’m not going to turn down a casserole. It’s not like I can cook,” he said with a nervous laugh.
Remy walked past him to put it in the oven when his hand reached out and caught her arm, holding her by his side. “Stan?”
“Sorry—for earlier,” he said gruffly. “And for yesterday. I’m not much of a people person.”
“Apparently, neither am I,” she said quietly.
“Really? Who told you that?”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ll go get that casserole going.” She glanced at his hand still holding her wrist and the way his thumb glided casually over her skin. Her toes curled against the hardwood floor and her breath quickened before he let her go, seeming as reluctant as she was for the contact to end. He cleared his throat loudly and rolled further into the room while she headed quickly for the kitchen and the wine cellar. A glass might help calm her racing heart and keep her focused on her job. She was the nanny, and the ten-year-old boy arriving tomorrow needed her to be strong, to be someone he could count on while he adjusted to this life with his dad. Any spark she thought she felt between her and Stan would have to wait.
Like everything else in your life has to wait, she thought bitterly as she reached the bottom of the cellar and sat down hard on the wooden steps. Like you will always put your life on hold.
Callie wasn’t right. She couldn’t be, but tonight was not the time for her to do some soul searching, especially without any of her typical mediums to let out whatever aggravation built up inside her. The wine would have to suffice for now. The wine and not touching Stan again unless she absolutely had to.
Chapter 6
Stan’s fingers twitched against the arms of his chair. He was nervous about Louis arriving in just a few moments and staying this time, but his newly discovered son wasn’t the only thing that had him on edge.
Remy.
Last night was the most fun he’d had since before the boating accident. After the awkward moment before dinner, they had moved on with the rest of the night as if he’d never touched her, as if he hadn’t felt a strange warmth rush through his veins and a sudden drive in his body to stand up and kiss her. But thinking it and actually doing it were two very different things. He could barely walk the few steps from his bed to the bathroom. How would he ever stand up and kiss a woman again? Hold her the way she should be held? Take her to bed and make love to her as the old Stanford Wellington would do?
“Stan?” Remy asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yes, tired is all. I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Too exhausted from getting your ass kicked at Mortal Kombat,” she decided with a smug grin.
“You barely beat me,” he argued but smiled with her. “You think he’ll be happy here?”
She puffed out a breath and blew her hair from her face. “I think he can be, just like I think you can be, but it’s going to take work, and the first few days are probably going to suck. Really suck. But you can’t hold it against him.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” he grunted.
“Hey, I’m a very honest person and this is not a situation I’ve exactly dealt with before. You’ll be fine, I know it.” She squeezed his shoulder with an encouraging look before walking to the front door and opening it wide. They weren’t there yet, but the morning breeze was nice to have blowing into the house. He hated the summers when he had to have the AC on. Fresh air was always better.
Thinking about last night brought up the casserole, and another pang of guilt grew in his chest. He needed to tell Remy the lie he’d told Melody before things got out of control, but she seemed to like him right now. He wanted to keep it that way if these next few weeks were going to suck, as she told him. He wanted her on his side and not scowling at him for spreading lies about her to his neighbors. Melody had a big mouth. By now, most of the people who lived around them would have heard Stan’s baby mama was movi
ng in with him along with his son. He rolled on thin ice, but there was no need for Remy to speak to the neighbors. Everything would be fine.
“They’re here,” Remy announced happily. “Smiling would be a good idea.”
Stan plastered a smile on his face. “How’s that?”
“Less scary and more fatherly,” Remy said, stifling a laugh behind her hand. “Be yourself.”
“Myself doesn’t have any clue what to do with kids.”
“Not even your own?” she challenged when he started to sulk in his chair.
Her words made him pause, and he reconsidered what he’d said before. She had a point. This boy—Louis—was his kid. He might not have known him since he was born, or knew he even existed until two weeks ago, but he was Stan’s son nevertheless. He couldn’t let him down, not when Stan was all the kid had standing between him and a life in the foster care system. This was his chance to make up for ten years of not knowing and to prove to himself that maybe he didn’t have to keep carrying around the rest of the guilt weighing him down from the accident.
Theresa and Louis walked up the steps to the front porch, and Remy stepped to the side so they could enter the house. “Mr. Wellington, the house looks much better than it did on our first visit. I assume everything is in order for Louis to move in with you?”
“Yes, you have nothing to worry about. Either of you. Louis? This is Remy. She’ll be the live-in nanny and help us out for the first few months while you’re here,” he said, introducing them to each other.
Remy stepped towards him and held out her hand. Louis clung to the small backpack over his shoulder and stared at her hand as she smiled warmly at him. Stan opened his mouth to help, but Remy shook her head subtly. “Louis, right?” she said gently.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, still not taking her hand.
“You know, your dad spent all weekend setting up your room. It’s pretty sweet, and I hear there’s a few surprises up there for you. Want to see them?”
Louis’ eyes brightened, but he still didn’t smile. Remy let her hand fall, giving up on the handshake. “Maybe.”
