Guarding His Fake Family

by Knight, Katie

  * * *

  They arrived outside a large two-story home with a For Sale sign in the front yard a while later. Simon had insisted on taking a long, winding route just to make absolutely certain they weren’t followed. Alisha hadn’t argued—safety came first, and anyway, they needed to allow enough time for her friend, Farrah Hart, to do the promised grocery shopping. When they finally arrived, Farrah was waiting in her minivan in the driveway. She was a real estate agent and a godsend, as far as Alisha was concerned.

  Simon parked at the curb and cut the engine, his expression still unsure.

  “Hey, this is good. Trust me,” she said. “Come on, let’s see what my friend brought for us.”

  They got out and walked over to the minivan where a petite black woman waited for them.

  “Girl,” Farrah said, giving Alisha a careful hug, doing her best not to crush the baby. “What the hell is going on? Is everything all right? And who is this precious one?”

  “Everything’s fine, or it will be.” She cut Simon a quick look and continued. “And it’s a long story, but the baby’s name is Amy. I don’t want to say too much, but I’m working on a story with Simon here and we need somewhere to lie low for a bit.”

  She made the introductions between Simon and Farrah, then handed the baby to him.

  “I promise I’ll explain more later, when I can,” Alisha said. “But I probably shouldn’t get into any details now, for your protection. What do we need to know about this place?”

  “The house is fully staged for showings and the owners have already moved cross country, so they won’t be back. You should have all the privacy you need here. There’s a garage, so you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing your car. Just close the curtains before using the lights so you don’t spook the neighbours. It’s still fully furnished too.”

  “Awesome.” Simon rocked Amy in his arms to keep her entertained. “Thank you for helping us.”

  “Of course. It’s what BFFs do, right?” Farrah put her arm around Alisha again. “I’ve got groceries and supplies in the van, if you can help me with them?”

  “Sure.” Alisha grabbed several bags and carried them up to the porch where Simon was unlocking the door. She turned at the bottom of the stoop to Farrah, who also had her arms full of bags, as well as a car seat. “I’ll pay you back for all this. Promise.”

  “No rush, girl. Anything to help out,” Farrah said, smiling, then dropped her voice. “And I know you can’t tell me anything else about what you’re doing or the baby, but what about that hot guy there?”

  Heat prickled Alisha’s cheeks and she was glad for the cover of darkness. Simon was hot, no doubt about it. But that wasn’t at the top of her mind right now. Or at least it hadn’t been, until her friend brought it up. “Like I said, I’ll explain things later.”

  After putting her bags inside and taking the stuff from Farrah, Alisha hurried her friend back to the door, not wanting to put her in any more danger than she already was. “Okay. I think we’re set for the night. Thanks again, Farrah.” She hugged her friend again and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll stay in touch. Hopefully, we won’t be here long.”

  “Stay as long as you need,” Farrah said, starting back down the stoop, then turning back to wave at Alisha. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  After closing and locking the door behind her, Alisha surveyed the main floor. It was staged nicely with light colours and clean, contemporary style furniture. Simon wasn’t anywhere to be seen, though. She went upstairs and found him in one of the bedrooms which had luckily been staged as a nursery. He'd already put Amy down in the crib and the baby was sleeping peacefully, thank goodness.

  He had a half-empty bottle in one hand and Alisha gave him a curious look. Simon shrugged. “While you were busy with your friend, the baby seemed hungry, so I went through the stuff you’d brought in and found a can of formula and some bottles. The instructions were pretty simple. I wasn’t sure how much she’d need, but I figured she’d know when to stop.”

  “Cool.” Alisha smiled and so did Simon. The moment stretched between them until finally she sighed and stared back down at the baby. “Poor thing. She’s been through a lot already tonight. I’m glad you were able to comfort her.”

  “Me too,” Simon said, moving in beside her. For whatever reason, Alisha found herself resting her head on his shoulder. It just felt normal, at a time when everything else did not. If Simon thought it was weird, he didn’t say anything, just kept watching Amy while she snoozed away. “We should get some sleep too.”

  “I’m not sure if I can,” she whispered.

  “Why?” he frowned down at her. “It’s safe here.”

  “Is it?” Alisha clutched his arm like a lifeline. “I don’t know anymore. Does safe even exist? After everything that happened earlier…”

  Her voice trailed off and they just stood there in the shadows, staring down at the baby, her head on Simon’s shoulder as he kissed the top of her head.

  The simple comfort soothed her in a way she couldn’t describe. It wasn’t an answer, but tonight, she’d take it.

  Eleven

  Later, Simon walked around the outside of the house, checking the perimeter for any signs they might have been followed—also making sure they’d covered their tracks enough that no one driving by would suspect where they were. Everything looked clear, but then, everything had seemed okay at his place too. Then the minute he let his guard down…BOOM! They were in danger again.

  He wouldn’t let that happen again. He couldn’t let that happen again. Especially with little Amy involved now.

  A few minutes and another lap around the property later, he was satisfied all was safe, and went back inside the house to check all the windows and doors.

  Alisha was puttering around in the kitchen while he fiddled with the equipment and he glanced over at her. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep? Amy’s down for the night and it’s after midnight now.”

  She shook her head and gave him an annoyed look. “I’m too wired to sleep. And I’m hungry. Want me to cook some dinner? Farrah brought us the basics so I can whip up some pasta or something.”

  “Uh, whatever.” He frowned down at the part he was working on. According to the diagram in the box, it was supposed to fit into the slot there, but the damned thing wouldn’t budge. Stupid part. “I don’t care. Make yourself something. I’m not really hungry. I need to focus on getting this thing together and working.”

  Simon cursed under his breath and tried to fit the pieces together another way, but it was still a no-go. Finally, he felt a touch on his arm and looked up to find Alisha standing beside him, her expression flat.

  “Please,” she said, her lovely dark eyes huge in her exhausted face. “Let that be for tonight. You’re not going to make any progress on it while you’re tired and on edge. Come cook something with me. It’ll help both of us relax and we could both use the break.”

  He probably should have said no, but damn, he knew she was right. And with her giving him those doe eyes, how could he resist?

  * * *

  Honestly, Alisha didn’t know much about cooking. These days, she usually got takeout or stopped by one of the many food trucks downtown on her way to this or that meeting. Growing up she had helped her mom a few times, but given the hours her mom worked with her law practice, those were quick, simple meals like sandwiches or boxed mac and cheese or eggs.

  Now, as she laid out the stuff Farrah had bought for them, she wasn’t sure what to do with all of it. To cover, she glanced over at Simon from across the island. “What are you in the mood for?”

  He scrunched his nose at the loaf of sourdough and the packages of cold cuts and cheese slices. “How about club sandwiches? Nothing fancy, just good eats.”

  “Sounds great.” She grinned, grabbing the jars of mayo and mustard out of the fridge. They stood side by side at the island assembling their dinner. “So, what’s the proper club sandwich protocol here?”

/>   “Well,” Simon said, grabbing two slices of thick bakery bread. “You start with a layer of mayo on the bottom slice.”

  Alisha followed his technique with her own bread and knife. “Okay.”

  “Then comes a layer of turkey, then Swiss, then ham.”

  She placed the meat and cheese like his, then added more turkey on top of the ham. At his raised brow she said, “What? I told you I’m hungry. Eating for two here.”

  “Uh huh.” He snorted. “You’re messing up my mojo here.”

  “Mojo?” Alisha waved her knife at him. “More like BS. I think you’re just making this up as you go.”

  “Maybe I am.” He shrugged. “That’s the beauty of cooking. It’s not an exact science.”

  Now it was her turn to scrunch her nose. “Isn’t that exactly what it is? That’s what recipes are for.”

  “True masters embellish.” As if to prove his point, he drew a smiley face with the mustard on the top slice of bread before topping off his sandwich. “And voilà. The perfect club.”

  “Perfect?” She narrowed her gaze on her own creation. “Well, I’m making mine a double-decker just because I can, then.” She pulled out a third piece of bread and slathered it with more mayo before laying on more cheese and ham and turkey. By the time she was done, the thing was a good eight inches tall and Alisha had no idea how she was going to fit it into her mouth, but man, she’d sure enjoy trying. Finished, she stepped back and gestured to her food. “Now that is what I call perfect.”

  “Hmm.” Simon studied her while chewing a huge bite of his own club. “Not bad. Maybe a little crooked on one side for my taste, but…”

  “Crooked?” She examined her sandwich from all sides. “It’s not crooked. You’re just too critical. It’s creatively balanced.”

  He laughed out loud. “That’s one way of saying it.”

  “I’ll give you a saying,” she said, grabbing a pickle slice and hurling it his way. He dodged to the side and caught it in his hand before shoving it in his mouth with a superior look.

  “That wasn’t a saying. It was a pickle.”

  “Here’s your pickle for you,” she said, laughing as she tossed a Swiss slice next. “And before you correct me, I know that was cheese.”

  “Well, at least your aim’s improving.” Simon chuckled as he picked the thing off the front of his shirt, then tucked it into his sandwich before taking another bite. “Got any sodas over there?”

  “Yeah,” she said, opening the fridge again. This was surprisingly fun, playing house with Simon. “There’s regular and diet.”

  “Regular, please,” he said, then caught the can she tossed him before grabbing one for herself. They took a seat at the island and ate their meal in companionable silence, until finally Simon said, “Thanks.”

  “For what?” Alisha looked at him over the rim of her can.

  “For making me take a break to eat. Usually when I’m working by myself, I forget.”

  “I hear you. The same thing happens to me sometimes.” She finished her sandwich and stood to take her plate to the sink. Simon did the same. Then they cleared the island and put away the food they’d gotten out earlier, tidying up together until the kitchen was spotless once more. They just stood there as awkwardness descended. Alisha faked a yawn and stretched. “Well, I guess we should hit the sack, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Simon walked around shutting off lights and checking the door again. “I can stay down here on the sofa if you want to take the master bedroom upstairs to be near Amy.”

  “Or.” Alisha put her hand on her hip. “We could stay in the master suite together. That bed is huge, and I’d feel better having you near.” At his startled look, she amended her statement. “Not like that. I’m too tired and this is still too weird. But we faced a lot of danger tonight. I don’t think I’ll sleep well by myself, especially in a strange place.” She gestured between them. “Just sleep.”

  “Hmm.” He seemed to consider that a few seconds, then nodded, rubbing his lower back. “Fine. Okay. It’s smart for us to stay close, anyway.”

  “Right.”

  Alisha waited for him to finish checking everything downstairs one last time, then preceded him up the stairs. They checked on Amy, who was still sleeping soundly, then headed to their bedroom next door. Alisha let Simon use the bathroom first, then went in herself to change into a T-shirt and sweats Farrah had thoughtfully bought for her at the superstore. Once she’d brushed her teeth and used the facilities, there was nothing left but to go out and get in bed with Simon. She hadn’t lied before. Things were still weird between them, what with the baby and all, but she did feel better having him close.

  When she came out, he was already under the covers, checking his phone. She climbed into the other side, then snuggled down under the covers, grateful for his warm weight beside her. She couldn’t deny that even in this short time together, she’d come to depend on his caring, protective nature probably more than she should. But there was something about being with him—and with little Amy—that felt good in a way she hadn’t expected.

  Exhausted as she was, Alisha drifted off as soon as she closed her eyes, not even noticing when Simon shut off the lights and went to sleep beside her.

  Twelve

  The next morning, Simon woke up with something warm and soft pressed against his side. He cracked one eye open to find Alisha snuggled beside him, her head resting on his chest, atop his heart. For a moment he just lay there, enjoying the sensation. Sleeping with Alisha, here in this big house with the baby in the nursery next door, was nice—despite everything that had happened so far.

  Honestly, he could get used to this.

  At least he could have, until a loud squelching noise from down the hall was followed by a noxious smell to rival any gas attack he’d been through in conflicts overseas.

  Good God.

  Face scrunched, he eased himself away from Alisha, then snuck out of the room in the direction of the horrific stench. Had one of the toilets backed up during the night? Or had a sewer pipe burst? Or… He stopped in front of the nursery door and the apparent source of the eye-watering smell.

  Slowly, he made his way to the crib, where Amy was awake, kicking and chewing on one of her fists, grinning up at him like she hadn’t just unleashed World War III in her diaper. How in the hell could something so cute make something so stinky?

  “What is that smell?” a groggy voice said from behind him.

  Simon glanced over his shoulder to see Alisha, rumpled and sleepy and far too adorable for her own good. She rubbed her nose and leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. “Is that Amy making that smell?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed and looked back at the baby, who was trying to roll over and grab the bars of the crib. “She needs her diaper changed. You know how to do that?”

  “Don’t look at me,” she said, holding up her hands and taking a step back. “But at least we have the supplies. I shoved some things from her house into the diaper bag, and I think maybe Farrah brought some stuff downstairs. Let me go check.”

  Before Simon could say anything, she hurried away. Reluctantly, he turned back to Amy and reached into the crib to pick her up. She was starting to fuss now, obviously unhappy with their handling of the situation so far. “I know, baby girl. We’ll get you cleaned up in a jiffy. Just let me—”

  He stopped with the baby halfway between the crib and his chest, nose wrinkled as a stream of fresh, runny poop oozed out the bottom of her onesie and dripped down her leg onto the bedding below. Yeah. She hadn’t just gone number two. She’d had a complete blowout.

  Gagging slightly, Simon carried her over to the changing table against the wall, holding the baby at arms-length and holding his breath, like she was a live grenade about to explode. Where the hell was Alisha with those diapers and stuff?

  Simon was about to yell for her when she reappeared in the doorway. “Sorry it took so long, I wasn’t sure what to bring so I grabbed it all and—” She looked at th
e mess in the crib, then at poor Amy, and grimaced. “Holy crap. That’s disgusting.”

  “Tell me about it.” He hiked his chin toward the large plastic bag in her hand. “Dump that stuff out of there and lay the bag on the changing table. I don’t want to smear this stuff any place else it doesn’t have to be.”

  She did as he asked, her complexion looking a little too grey for his comfort. “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” Alisha nodded, not looking at him. “It’s just with my hormones out of whack from the pregnancy, I’m extra sensitive to smells.”

  “Understood.” Simon laid Amy down atop the bag and started to carefully remove the soiled onesie. “Can you grab another empty bag for me to put this in? Then maybe go run a bath for her in the bathroom sink while I get this diaper off?”

  “Sure.” Alisha disappeared downstairs and returned a moment later with another bag. “I’ll go get that bath ready then,” she said before fleeing.

  He understood. He did. This was nasty. No two ways about it. He’d need a bath himself after this. Once he got the ruined diaper off and disposed of, he tossed the old onesie in there too. No amount of washing would save it—might as well just throw it out entirely. He yanked out several baby wipes and cleaned off Amy’s bottom as best he could. Now that she was relatively clean, the baby was happy and giggling again, squirming around on the table enough that he had to keep one hand on her little chest to keep her from rolling off the table.

  “Is that fun?” he asked Amy, grinning down at her. “Do you feel better now? Do you, sweetie?”

  “Water’s ready,” Alisha said from the doorway a couple minutes later. “Looks like you handled the worst of it.”

  “Yeah.” He threw the wipes away and picked up Amy, putting her over his shoulder. “Now, we need to figure out how to give her a bath.”