Cuffing Her

by Emily Bishop

“Actually, I do.” I sling the canvas bag over my shoulder. “They’re presents.”

  “Presents?”

  “For a little boy I’m going to meet for the first time.”

  “Oh.” He scratches the back of his head. “You know what? I don’t think you should give a boy those. You’ve seen the effect they have, right? Those are just trouble in a boy’s hands. Take it from me.”

  “Right.” Why didn’t I think of that?

  “Besides, they prefer the real thing.”

  “Of course they do.” I pull the bag strap further up my shoulder. “Thanks for the tip. I guess I’ll think of something else to give.”

  “Yeah, you do that.” He crosses his arms over his chest, making it look even bigger. “Just don’t buy anything noisy or flashy, you know, the battery-operated ones with lights and sounds. The kids love them but they drive some parents crazy and the batteries run out overnight. Oh, and maybe not Lego, unless the kid is twelve or older or super organized. The parts tend to get lost easily until you find them stuck to the sole of your foot.”

  He points to his foot with a grimace.

  I chuckle at his expression. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  I haven’t felt this comfortable around a man since I escaped from Vince, much less a stranger.

  “And one more thing.”

  “Yup?”

  “Would you like some coffee?” he asks. “Or are you in a rush to meet this boy you’re meeting for the first time? He’s not twenty-five, is he?”

  I chuckle again, shaking my head. “No.”

  He lifts his hands. “No coffee or no…?”

  “He’s not twenty-five. He’s much, much younger.”

  “Oh. He’s twenty-four.”

  I pout. “Very funny.”

  He’s hot, funny, kind, and charming. He isn’t wearing a wedding ring, either, so he must be single. And did I say he’s hot? In short, he’s everything I want in a man.

  Hold it. It’s too soon to go down that lane, sweetheart.

  Shit. What am I thinking? I’m still recovering from falling for a man I thought had all those qualities and here I go again, losing my footing.

  Get a grip, Sabrina.

  “Um. Actually…”

  “No coffee?” He turns his head to one side.

  “Sorry. I…”

  “Allergic to coffee? Because that’s something I’ve never heard before.”

  I shake my head. “No. It’s just…” I glance at my watch. “Oh, shit.”

  “You know, it doesn’t have to be coffee. It could be tea or…”

  “Sorry,” I tell him, adjusting the strap of my bag. “I have to go.”

  “Or nothing. That’s fine.”

  “I’m really sorry but I have to get to work.” I turn around and start running off.

  Shit. How did time fly so fast? Didn’t it stop when I met that hunk?

  “Need a ride?” he calls after me.

  “No, thanks.”

  “I thought you were going to meet that boy?”

  “Yup. That, too.”

  “When do you get off work?”

  Seriously, is he still talking?

  “Never,” I tell him, scurrying off.

  Thankfully, that succeeds in shutting him up and shaking him off. I can’t shake off the thought of him, though, as I get into a cab, grinning as I remember his smile.

  Sabrina…

  I know, I know. I’m just daydreaming. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.

  Too bad.

  Hide-And-Seek

  Randall

  Damn, that felt good.

  As I sit in the corner of the coffee shop with my hand wrapped around the sleeve of my cup, I can still feel my nerves buzzing, the experience of meeting that woman with the bugs still fresh in my memory, the fruity scent of her shampoo still in my nostrils.

  The woman with the bugs, huh?

  I suppress a laugh. No. I can do better than that.

  The woman with the mysterious, mesmerizing black eyes that I couldn’t look away from. The woman with the hair that reminds me of autumn leaves, so soft I want to rake it with my fingers and feel it against my cheek. The woman with the lips the shade of a watermelon, that bow-shaped upper lip so full and luscious I want to bite on it. The woman with the smell of summer and the laugh that brings me right back to my childhood. The woman with the lean arms and legs that I want wrapped around me, with the tiny waist I feel I can put my hands around, with those hips that I want to grip carefully as I thrust into her young – twenty-something? –body.

  Whoa.

  I’ve never wanted a woman like this before. I’ve wanted women, yes, but usually after they’ve flirted with me, teased me. This woman hasn’t even done anything. All she did was fall, scare an old lady and laugh. Yet I want her so bad my body is getting all worked up, heat rising up my spine and pooling in my crotch, making something else want to rise.

  Fuck.

  I take a sip of my coffee, hoping that the coffee will calm me down.

  Not likely.

  Why didn’t I ask for her name? I should have done that before asking her to join me for coffee. Why didn’t I go after her instead of just watching her run away?

  Because I’m not used to chasing after women, damn it. Even my wife, Dinah, just fell into my arms.

  I wonder if there’s a chance I’ll ever see her again.

  Never.

  I sigh. I guess she’s the one who got away.

  I take another sip of my coffee, trying not to think of her, whatever her name is. Suddenly, my phone rings.

  At first, I think it must be Tess, calling to remind me that the new nanny will be arriving at the mansion any minute or of something else work-related even though it’s her day off. She takes work seriously like that. As I take my phone out of my pocket, though, I see the name of Mrs. Wilson, my housekeeper, on the screen. Finally, she’s learned to use a cell phone, though the fact that she’s gone through the trouble of calling me even though she hates cell phones means there must be an emergency.

  Fuck.

  “Hello.” I press the phone against my ear.

  “Mr. Brewster?” I immediately hear the concern in her voice.

  “Yes, Mrs. Wilson. It’s me. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s David.”

  I tense, several scenarios going through my mind, none of them good. Does he have a fever? Did he run away? Did he eat something he shouldn’t have? Did he fall down the stairs? Did he slip in the bathroom and hit his head? Did he burn the house down?

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “What happened to David?”

  “He’s… missing.”

  My eyebrows arch. “Missing?”

  ***

  “We thought he was in his room,” Lucy, one of the maids, explains to me as she stands in the middle of the living room with Mrs. Wilson and the other maids, fidgeting nervously with her apron and looking like she’s about to cry. “But when I went to check on him just a few minutes ago, he wasn’t.”

  I know. I checked his bedroom, too, just now, and there’s no sign of him anymore, not even in the closet or in the bathroom.

  Where did David go?

  “Where have you looked?” I ask, touching my chin as I try to think of where he might have gone.

  “I searched the second and third floors,” Amy, another maid, says. “But I didn’t see him.”

  “I looked outside,” Lucy says.

  “He isn’t in the kitchen,” Mrs. Wilson says.

  I sigh. Where can he be?

  “Where’s Zombie?” I ask, hoping that might provide a clue.

  “Sleeping out on the deck,” Mrs. Wilson answers.

  That means he’s no help, then. Usually, Zombie hangs around David, but there are times when Zombie spends time by himself.

  Where can David be?

  I know he can’t have ran away. I checked the recording from the security cameras near the gate first and there was no sign that anyone left the comp
ound. That only leaves one thing – he’s somewhere here, hiding. The problem is the compound is too big. Even the mansion is too big with three floors, lots of rooms, and plenty of hiding places for an eight-year-old boy.

  “That boy.” I run my hands through my hair exasperatedly. “Why is he hiding now?”

  “Probably because the new nanny is coming?” Lucy suggests.

  I frown. Yup. That’s probably it. He knew the new nanny was coming and decided his first prank would be to hide from her. Well, if that’s the case, we’ll just have to find him.

  “Let’s search the house again, top to bottom,” I order.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Make sure you search thoroughly. I’ll search, too. If you find him, you can drag him out of his hiding place and bring him to his bedroom then send someone else to get me or you can just send someone else to get me and I’ll be the one to drag him out.”

  If he’s hiding, it doesn’t only mean he doesn’t want to be found. Likely, he won’t want to come out of hiding even when he’s found so I’ll have to drag him out myself and talk to him.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I clasp my hands together. “All right. Let’s go look for him.”

  ***

  “David, you better come out this instant! You’re already in enough trouble as it is!” I shout as I enter one of the guest rooms for the second time.

  I said we’d look for him and find him but it’s already been almost an hour and there’s still no sign of him, which is why I’ve resorted to shouting and threatening. It doesn’t seem to be working, though.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I sigh.

  Why does he have to hide? Doesn’t he know it won’t change anything, solve anything? He’ll still have to meet the new nanny eventually and deal with her. He can’t hide forever.

  Why does he have to cause so much trouble?

  He’s always been like this. When he was a baby, he cried endlessly. When he could crawl, he kept trying to get out of his crib and crawl all over the place, putting whatever he could reach inside his mouth. Then he kept getting into accidents – a bump here, a bruise there, a trip to the emergency room for stitches. Then he became a toddler and he’d constantly run around like a car that never ran out of fuel, like a tornado that knocked everything out of its path. Of course, there were more accidents. Then came the tantrums – the wailing and stomping of feet and throwing toys that lasted for hours. That was replaced by the sulks. And then he just started getting into mischief, whether at school or at home. Just simple pranks, really, usually harmless. Still, he is such a troublemaker.

  Like I told Mrs. Fisher, not having a mother must have something to do with it but sometimes, I wonder if that’s really the reason. Maybe it’s just his personality. Some kids really are difficult, after all. Maybe my kid happened to belong to the bunch. Or maybe I’m being punished for giving my parents such a hard time.

  Whatever the reason, all this troublemaking has to end before it drives me crazy. I was actually hoping the new nanny could help. Of course, she can’t help him unless she meets him and she can’t do that unless he comes out of hiding.

  I look under the bed. Nothing.

  As I lay crouched there, Zombie comes to me, looking at me curiously.

  “I know, I know. I look stupid,” I tell him.

  He cocks his head to one side.

  I swear the dog can sometimes understand me.

  “Where’s David, huh? Why don’t you go find him? If you do, I’ll give you a treat.”

  Zombie just looks at me.

  All right. So maybe this isn’t one of the times he understands me or maybe he’s just loyal to David and doesn’t want to betray him. Or maybe he’s just lazy.

  I get up. “I should have gotten David a German Shepherd or a bloodhound.”

  Zombie just looks at me as he rolls over, baring his tummy.

  “No,” I tell him. “No belly rub for you. And no dinner, either, until your master is found.”

  I leave the room, pausing in the hallway.

  “David!”

  Still no answer.

  I scratch my head. Where can he be hiding? If I want to find him, I have to think like a kid. I have to think like David.

  If I were David, where would I hide?

  Suddenly, the answer dawns on me – the pantry. If I was going to stay somewhere indefinitely, it would be somewhere comfortable, somewhere spacious. And it would have food so I could just eat if I got hungry.

  And for all his adventures, David happens to have a big appetite.

  I go down the stairs and to the kitchen, heading to the pantry. Sure enough, he’s there beneath the last shelf, behind a row of canned meat and beside some bottles of condiments.

  “David.” I put my hands on my hips.

  He laughs, toppling some cans of meat as he crawls out of hiding. “You had a hard time finding me, didn’t you? I thought no one would ever find me.”

  “It’s not funny, David.”

  I reach for his arm but he eludes me. “You might have found me but you still have to catch me!”

  “David!”

  Oh, no, you’re not getting away.

  I chase after him, grabbing him in the living room.

  “David, you are in serious trouble.” I lift a finger at him. “You made us all worry and wasted our time looking for you.”

  “I didn’t tell you to look for me,” David answers back.

  “Why, you—”

  “You found him?” an unfamiliar voice interrupts from behind me.

  No, it’s familiar. I just can’t say whose voice it is.

  I turn my head to find out and as I do, my eyes grow wide. Hers do the same – her mesmerizing black eyes that I thought I’d never gaze into again.

  “You?”

  Rules

  Sabrina

  Shit, it’s him. Mr. Gladiator. Mr. Muscles. That guy I bumped into at the mall.

  There’s no mistaking it. Not that voice or that face or that build. Heck, he’s even wearing the same long-sleeved black shirt and faded jeans.

  It is him.

  Wait. Does this mean he’s… my boss?

  “What are you doing here?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

  “Forgive me, sir, but I was the one who let her in,” Lucy says. “She said she’s the new nanny so I told her to wait in the library while we find David.”

  I lower my gaze. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour and there was such a commotion that I thought I’d check things out. Sorry.”

  “You are the new nanny?”

  I nod then take a deep breath before stepping forward, extending my arm. “Sabrina James from Stargazers Child Services.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sabrina.” He shakes my hand. “I’m Randall Brewster.”

  I nod. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Brewster. I’ll be your nanny from now on.”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “I mean your son’s nanny,” I correct, trying not to blush.

  Randall turns to the boy next to him. “This is David, my son.”

  I offer him my hand as well, bending over. “Hello, David.”

  David doesn’t answer or even look at me.

  “David?” Randall squeezes his shoulder.

  “Hello,” he mumbles, then looks at his father. “Can I go to my room now?”

  Randall looks at one of the maids. “Lucy, bring David to his room. Make sure he stays there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lucy leads the boy up the stairs. Halfway up, he glances over his shoulder at me, glaring.

  Oh, boy. He sure is a difficult one. Still, nothing I can’t handle.

  “Sabrina?” Randall says.

  “Yes?” I look at him.

  Now, this one I’m not sure I can handle. In fact, I still can’t believe he’s the new client, my new boss. Thank goodness I didn’t behave badly earlier. Or did I?

  “I guess we need to talk. Come with me.”

  I
follow him down the hall to a room that has bookshelves, filing cabinets and a large, mahogany desk in the middle, a black leather chair behind it.

  His office.

  I can see other things as well, like the trophies on the shelf, some for his company and some for weightlifting. So, he really is a weightlifter. I see a picture of him lifting a barbell on the wall, too, which looks like it’s a magazine cover that’s been framed. Beside it are other pictures, one of him in a suit, where he looks incredibly hot, one of him with David, taken years earlier and another with his wife, taken even before that. Carol said he’s a widower, his wife having died giving birth to David.

  So, he’s a successful businessman, a former professional weightlifter and he’s a single dad, too.

  A hot single dad. “Please sit down.” Randall gestures to one of the two other chairs in front of his desk.

  I take a deep breath as I take the one on the right, telling myself to calm down.

  Remember, Sabrina. He’s your boss.

  Right. I should start being more professional. In fact, I should probably apologize for my casual behavior earlier.

  “Mr. Brewster…”

  “Please call me Randall,” he tells me.

  My eyes grow wide. What?

  “When it’s just you and me, you can call me Randall.”

  “But…”

  “After all, I’d like us to be friends.”

  Friends?

  “I think we should work together to figure out what’s best for David and do it, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” I agree. “But…”

  “Sabrina,” he says, not letting me finish. “That’s your name, right?”

  I nod.

  “You have no idea how nice it is to know you have one. Now, I don’t have to call you Bug Lady.”

  “Bug Lady?” I frown.

  “I had to call you something.” He leans forward. “Who would have thought you were actually my son’s new nanny? I guess you weren’t lying when you were meeting a boy much younger than twenty-five.”

  I grin, remembering that. “Much, much younger.”

  “He’s quite good-looking, too. I’m almost jealous.”

  Jealous? How can this hunk of a man be jealous of such a little boy? Anyway, he has no reason to be.

  Unless he’s still interested in me.