Wonder With Me

by Kristen Proby

  “I did.”

  “Mr. Taylor, Ms. Downey passed away a few days ago. She’d been sick.” She glances down at Piper as the little girl scowls and squeezes her bunny tighter. “Well, all of the information is in this folder.”

  She closes the file and passes it to me.

  My stomach is filled with lead. I know the next words about to come out of her mouth before she says them.

  “Piper is your daughter, Mr. Taylor. Of course, we’ll schedule a DNA test—”

  “That’s not necessary,” I say, interrupting her. My eyes are on Piper as she hugs her bunny. “She looks just like me.”

  Piper looks up at me, her big, round, brown eyes a bit scared and sad.

  “Actually, it’s the law,” the woman replies. “We have to make sure we’ve placed the child with a direct relative, of course. We’ll be in touch, and will check in periodically until the results of the test come in.”

  “Fine. What about Vanessa’s family?” I ask Ms. Hale without looking away from my daughter.

  My daughter.

  “Vanessa didn’t have any immediate family,” she explains. “If there are extended family members, we haven’t found them.”

  My gaze whips to Ms. Hale’s. What kind of a jerk am I that I didn’t know that Vanessa didn’t have family? “Who attended the funeral?”

  “There hasn’t been one yet,” she says. “Of course, she had friends, but there hasn’t been time—”

  “I’ll see to it.”

  She closes her lips and sits quietly, watching as I smile at Piper.

  “Piper, I’m very sorry for your loss.” I circle my desk and squat beside her, careful not to touch her. I don’t know anything about children. I’m way out of my element here, but this isn’t about me.

  Christ, the poor child probably doesn’t understand what’s happening around her.

  “Thank you,” she says in a tiny voice. “Do you know where my mommy is?”

  Well, hell.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your mommy is in heaven.”

  Piper frowns and looks down at her bunny. “But where will I live?”

  “With me,” I reply immediately. Am I ready for this? Hell, no. But I run a multi-million dollar company. We’ll figure this out. “If it’s okay with you, you’ll come live with me at my house. I think you’ll like it there very much.”

  She seems to think it over, and then nods her dark little head. “Okay.”

  Chapter One

  ~Noel~

  “Why do you sound like you’re having sex?”

  I frown at my assistant’s question as I reach for the door of my favorite coffee place, my phone pressed to my ear. “Because I’m late, so I’m running, and I haven’t had a chance to go to the gym lately. Stop judging me.”

  I sit in a chair to finish my call, rather than try to multi-task. Besides, I like the barista, and I enjoy talking with her, so I’ll wait until I’m off the phone to place my order.

  “No judging,” Alison insists. “I don’t go to the gym either. Okay, so we have a request for a consult that came in this morning.”

  “I don’t have time,” I say immediately. “Ask someone else.”

  “They requested you, specifically. Apparently, you came recommended.”

  “It’ll have to happen after the first of the year,” I reply, taking a deep breath. The smell of coffee is divine. And I haven’t had my first of a dozen cups yet today. “I’m booked, and it’s almost Christmas, Ali.”

  “I know, but that’s the point. He wants his house decorated for Christmas. And he’s willing to pay. A lot.”

  She rattles off a number, and I feel my eyes go wide. “Why so much?”

  “Who cares?” she asks, laughing.

  “Okay, listen.” I mentally take stock of my afternoon. I guess I won’t be getting that massage I’ve been longing for, after all. “I have two hours at four this afternoon. That’s the only time I can do it if he wants it done now.”

  “Awesome,” Ali says happily. “Now, don’t forget…”

  She reminds me of my appointments for the day, and when she finishes, I say, “Are you done, Mom? Because I’m already late, and if I don’t get my coffee, I might go all murder-death-kill on someone.”

  “Happy holidays to you, too,” Ali says, laughing before she hangs up. I mentally juggle the schedule and hurry up to the counter.

  “Hey, Noel.” I’m greeted with a wide smile.

  “Hey, Shannon,” I say, smiling in return. “I’ll have—”

  “Your usual,” she says, passing it over. “I saw you come in, and you look like you’re in a hurry.”

  “You’re amazing, and I adore you,” I gush as I accept the cup of steamy goodness and pass her my card. Cherry Street Coffee House is, ironically, not on Cherry Street, but rather on First Avenue West, just around the block from my condo. And it’s my favorite spot for coffee, and sometimes, for something sweet.

  “I know,” Shannon says, winking. “Here’s a scone, as well. On me.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “You spend more money in here than either of us wants to count,” she says, shaking her head. “A scone now and then is the least I can do. Have a great day.”

  “Back atcha, friend. Oh!” I turn back to her. “How’s Angela?”

  “Settling in,” Shannon says. She took in a foster child about two months ago, and it’s been a tough time for both Shannon and the sixteen-year-old. “Every day is a little better.”

  “I’m glad. Let me know if you need anything.”

  I wave and hurry out into the brisk, late-autumn air. It’s the first week of December, and cooler days have settled over Seattle, making the leaves crisp. They crunch under my feet as I hurry down the sidewalk to my first appointment, which happens to be, conveniently, just down the street from my condo.

  I’ve been an interior designer in Seattle for a decade, and I feel like I finally came into my own over the past couple of years. I’ve gone from working for a firm to co-owning my own with two other women that I adore.

  We can’t keep up with the demand. We surpassed our five-year goals in just nine months.

  It’s been incredible, to say the least. And it’s how I’m able to afford a gorgeous condo in the Belltown neighborhood of Seattle. My home is my favorite portfolio of my work. I busted my ass—and my wallet—making it a masterpiece.

  If this new, generous client wants Christmas work done, that should be easy enough. I’ll draw up a design for some trees, lights, garlands, and have a crew make it come to life. If I’m lucky, it’ll only take a couple of days’ work on my part, and our firm will be much richer.

  It’s definitely worth the late nights and early mornings.

  It might even be worth missing out on my massage this afternoon. I usually have a weekly standing appointment, but I’ve had to cancel three weeks in a row. If I keep this up, my therapist will fire me.

  That would be a damn shame.

  I sip my coffee and breathe deeply, enjoying the crisp air. Everyone else I know loves summer so much, but I enjoy autumn in Washington the best. Especially on days like today, with the sun shining and the air cool.

  With a happy, optimistic mood, and the caffeine rolling through my veins, I hurry in for my first meeting of the day.

  * * * *

  So, basically, I’m just running late all day, and there are few things higher on my pet peeve list than people who always run late.

  I’m prompt. It’s a matter of respect and courtesy.

  But today? Today, the gods have it out for me.

  After my first meeting, which ran long, I caught my heel in a crack in the sidewalk, it breaking in the process, and I had to hurry home to change. I allowed myself exactly twenty-seven seconds to mourn the loss of those Guccis, then hurried back out for a lunch meeting.

  Which also ran long.

  I’m doomed because now I’m sitting in traffic, making my way north to the super fancy Magnolia neighbo
rhood of Seattle. It’s near the water, and based on the address—and what the client is willing to pay—I’m excited to see the house.

  If I can ever get there.

  I blow a breath through my lips and tap my fingers on the steering wheel. Finally, once I pass a fender-bender on the right, traffic loosens up, and I’m only one minute late when I pull into the driveway.

  Thank goodness.

  I gather my bag and iPad and hurry to the front door. I ring the bell and wait, but no one answers.

  So I try again.

  Still, no answer.

  Am I at the right address? Did they cancel and Ali forgot to tell me? Am I going crazy?

  I pull out my phone and text Alison.

  Me: Did you confirm my 4:00 appt?

  I tap my toe and wait, longing for the massage I should be getting right now, as Ali replies.

  Ali: Yes! He’s expecting you. His name is Reed.

  “Huh,” I mutter, looking around. “Reed’s not here.”

  The house is a glorious Cape Cod-style home, and it does indeed look out over Puget Sound. Ideas are already taking shape for the outside. With a landscape architect and an electrician, I could turn this into a stunning work of art.

  But Reed’s not answering.

  So I turn back to my Lexus. Just as I do, I hear a child yelp in either delight or pain from the side of the house. I walk around, investigating, and find a little brunette girl with the sweetest face I’ve ever seen laughing hysterically. A man, with the same dark features, is holding her, blowing raspberries into her neck.

  “You defied the king!” he yells, tickling her.

  “The king is dumb!” she yells back, earning more raspberries.

  I stand back, not wanting to interrupt, and smile in delight at the fun display before me. I should clear my throat or something to get their attention, but I’m enjoying them too much.

  “You have to ’pologize,” the girl says as she races away from him, but doesn’t try very hard to outrun him. She wants to get caught. “You have to ’pologize to the princess.”

  “The princess was bad,” he says with a laugh. “And you’re too cute to punish.”

  He glances up and catches my gaze with his, and we both pause.

  “I’m sorry to eavesdrop, your highness,” I begin and curtsy. “I’m Noel, the interior designer you have a consult with this afternoon.”

  “Oh, shit,” he says, checking the time, then points to the child. “Do not repeat that.”

  “Shit,” she says gleefully and breaks out into a dance.

  He sighs, rubs his hand down his face, and then shrugs a shoulder. “I’m Reed,” he says, extending his hand for mine. I try to ignore the sizzle that runs up my arm at the contact.

  Try being the operative word, because this guy is hot.

  If you look tall, dark, and handsome up in the dictionary, there’s likely a photo of Reed Taylor right there.

  “Noel,” I repeat. “And who is this lovely lady?”

  “Princess Piper,” she says with a sweet smile. “But you can call me Piper.”

  “Well, hello there, Piper.”

  “Her babysitter was sick today,” Reed says and shrugs. “So I had to work from home.”

  “And your wife? Will she be joining us?” I ask.

  Piper’s smile falls, and Reed clears his throat.

  “I’m not married,” he says simply, and I immediately feel like a complete asshole.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” I shuffle my feet. “Shall we get started?”

  “Yes, that would be great.” He gestures for me to join him at a beautiful outdoor living area, with the best view of the Sound I’ve seen in a long time. “The fire is going, but if it’s too chilly for you, we can go inside.”

  “No, this is great.” I sit across from him and smile as Piper sits next to him and leans her head on his shoulder. “You sure are a beautiful girl.”

  “Thanks,” she says quietly. “My mommy went to heaven, so then I had to live with Daddy.”

  I blink rapidly, not sure what to say to that.

  “I’m sorry,” Reed says, his voice perfectly calm. “She’s four and—”

  “No need to apologize,” I assure him. “I’m so happy that you have your daddy to live with.”

  “Me, too,” Piper says.

  “Now, my assistant tells me that you’re in the market for some Christmas decorations.”

  “That’s right,” Reed says with a nod. “This is Piper’s first Christmas with me, and I want to make it special. I do not, however, have an eye for decorating. Nor do I own any of the appropriate materials.”

  “You don’t have any decorations in the attic?” I ask.

  “No. I don’t generally celebrate the holidays. I’m usually too busy working.”

  So many questions swirl around in my mind. What happened to Piper’s mom? Why is this his first Christmas with Piper?

  Why do I want to have my way with my client? I’ve worked for handsome men before. This isn’t my first rodeo.

  “Just from seeing the outside of your home, I have ideas,” I say and smile. “I love the Cape Cod style. Do you want interior and exterior décor?”

  “Yes. All of it.”

  “What color scheme—?”

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Reed interrupts, “but this is why I hired you. I don’t know what the best colors are, or anything else. I run a finance company, so I can invest money for you, but I can’t help you decorate my home.”

  “Understood,” I say with a nod. “You never know how hands-on a client wants to be.”

  “Consider my hands off,” he says. “At least, where the Christmas décor is concerned.”

  My eyes meet his. If I’m not mistaken, Reed is flirting with me.

  Perhaps the attraction is mutual.

  Too bad. I have a job to do here, and I’m entirely too busy to start something with a single dad.

  Too much baggage for me.

  “What about you, Piper?” I ask, catching the young girl’s attention. “Do you have any special requests?”

  She frowns as if giving it a great deal of thought, which I find completely charming. “Can we have bunnies?”

  “Bunnies?”

  She nods happily. “I like bunnies.”

  “Christmas bunnies will certainly make their appearance this year. I’ll leave you my card. My cell number is on there, and you are welcome to call or text with any questions. In the meantime, I’ll get some designs drawn up and emailed to you for approval.”

  “Great,” he says with a nod.

  “And, once approved, my crew will come to make it all happen. It should only take them a couple of days, tops.”

  “You won’t be here for that?” Reed asks and frowns.

  “No, they usually have very detailed instructions to follow, and I’m just in the way.”

  “I’d like you here,” he says as if that settles everything. “I’ll pay an extra fee if need be.”

  “There’s no need to pay extra, and there’s really no need for me to be here.”

  “I’ll triple what I’m paying you.”

  I sit back, confused. “Reed, this seems unnecessary.”

  “I’m paying for your services, and I’d like you to be here, personally, to oversee the project from start to finish.”

  He doesn’t waver. If I decline, my firm loses a lot of money. If I accept, I lose more time and sleep, trying to cram even more into my days.

  “I’ll make it work,” I say at last.

  “Yay!” Piper says with a happy smile. “Christmas bunnies.”

  Chapter Two

  ~Reed~

  Noel came highly recommended for her work. From several people, actually. And watching her as she surveys the inside of my home, I can see why. She has a sharp eye, a quick wit, and I can see that her wheels are turning at crazy-high speeds.

  She’s here to do a job, no more, and no less.

  And yet, I’m more attrac
ted to her than I’ve been to anyone in months. Maybe ever.

  Since Piper came into my life just a couple of months ago, I haven’t had time to notice anything. I work, I spend time with my daughter, and then, the next day, I do it all again.

  But now, with Noel in my house, I’m noticing.

  “Who decorated your home?” Noel asks in the kitchen. She’s using a camera to take photos of the rooms, and looks at me over the lens.

  “I bought it like this,” I say and smile. “Furniture and all. So I’d have to ask the real estate agent. Why do you ask?”

  She purses her lips and shakes her head. “It just doesn’t feel like you. And I know that sounds odd, considering I just met you, but it’s quite cold. There’s no color in here.”

  “I spilled juice on the couch,” Piper admits. “And my mom always used to say that white furniture isn’t good with kids around.”

  “She probably had a point,” Noel says with a wink. “The layout is brilliant, showing off the view.” She points to the accordion windows that open to the outdoor living space, and the view of the water beyond. “But the furniture is white, the rugs are white. Everything is white.”

  “It’s clean,” I offer.

  “It’s cold.” She wanders over to the staircase. “Will I be working upstairs?”

  “Everywhere,” I confirm. I want Piper to have the best Christmas of her young life. After everything she’s been through this year, she deserves it. My daughter takes two of my fingers in her hand as we climb the stairs behind Noel and my heart catches. It still takes my breath away when she reaches for me, climbs in my lap or kisses my cheek. Piper is an affectionate little girl, which is something I’ve had to get used to, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.

  “I want to show you my room,” Piper announces, pushing her way to the front and leading Noel down the hall.

  Her room is across from mine, so I can hear her if she needs me. I’d originally put her down the hall, but that first night here in the house she had a horrible dream, and I couldn’t get to her fast enough.

  I moved her things here, across from my room, the next morning.

  “Oh my goodness,” Noel says from the threshold. “Piper, this is beautiful.”