Immune, I told myself. You. Are. Immune.
Max flung open the door, and Gillian transferred her dancing and squealing adoration to him.
Mrs. Gonzales appeared in the doorway. “So, you all are hanging out here today?” She stepped back as we crowded into the foyer.
“Yes,” I said. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Fine with me.” She stuffed papers into the briefcase hanging off her shoulder.
Slade leaned against the banister. “Trina’s in charge. Apparently I’m just the copilot.”
Mrs. Gonzales shot me a conspiratorial wink. I hoped to God Slade didn’t see it.
“Fabulous,” she said. “I’m running late. See you kids tonight!” She hugged Max and bustled away. We heard a door slam, then she flung it open again, hollering that she’d made a batch of fresh cookies.
“Those cookies are calling my name.” Slade brushed past me, the touch of his shoulder making me sniff my wrist.
“Naked party!” Gillian screeched. Before I could stop her, she’d peeled off her sundress and shot up the stairs in her swimsuit. Max followed her, giggling, with Spike in pursuit.
I followed Slade into the kitchen. He handed me a cookie, still warm from the oven.
“I wish my mom baked like this,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate chip.
“Me, too.” I took a bite and swallowed. “My mom’s a horrible cook.”
Slade cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? Mine’s okay, I guess. She’s just super healthy. We don’t have any sugar in the house. Just agave and honey.”
I remembered the horrible granola bars and was impressed he didn’t slam his mom’s cooking.
Slade slid into a kitchen chair and gestured for me to join him. “So did Gillian’s mom bribe you with cookies when she interviewed you?”
Oh grilled cheesus. The cookie suddenly tasted like dried rice sticking to my tongue. I groped for a subject change, but my mind was blank.
“Did she ask what you’d do if the house caught on fire?” He smiled, blissfully oblivious to my internal agony.
“I, um, can’t remember. There were a lot of questions.” Like how I’d deal with you, for instance.
He nodded, his smile now as blinding as a thousand suns. “Yeah, but I got the feeling Mrs. G. really wanted me to have the job.”
I was about to lose my cookies, literally. I wondered if I should go to confession and spill my guts to a priest.
Why did he keep smiling like that? It only intensified my guilt. I scowled at him, and his smile faded.
“So, uh, I read the binder last night,” he said. “Well, most of it.” He took a drink of water. “Part of it, anyway. The schedule page.”
A tiny bit of my guilt dissipated. Of course he hadn’t bothered to read the whole thing. He’d probably been having his own brand of naked party. As soon as I thought about that, I felt my face burn. It was my turn to chug water.
“So anyway, about today’s schedule.” He sounded hesitant. “Are you sure the kids will sit still for a documentary? About water conservation?”
I sat up straight, relieved to feel more of my guilt disappearing. We lived in a semi-arid climate, and the more educated people were about conserving water, the better.
“I suppose you have a better idea?” I snapped.
He blinked in surprise, then fiddled with a napkin. “Well, yeah, maybe. I was thinking since it’s going to be so hot today we could take them swimming.” He grinned. “Gilly’s already dressed for it.”
Visions filled my mind, of me standing in the shallow pool at my lesson, tentatively blowing bubbles in the water. Other images, too, which I couldn’t allow to distract me.
“I don’t think the kids can swim very well.” I stated this with as much authority as I could muster.
As he ran a hand through his hair, tugging the shoelace out, I had a fleeting fantasy of running my own fingers through it. Startled, I shivered.
“Are you okay?”
I hoped he wouldn’t notice my heated cheeks. “I’m fine. But I don’t think a swimming pool is a good idea.” My panic made me sound bitchy.
He sighed and looked out the window, then turned back to me, eyes narrowed. “I’m teaching Max to swim, you know. And I’m a certified lifeguard. They’ll be fine.”
How many secrets could a person keep inside before they came shooting out like a geyser? “I just…just don’t want to.”
A long silence stretched between us.
“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” He stood up and stalked to the family room, where he plopped on the couch.
I felt awful. But I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for snapping, or to explain why I didn’t want to go to the pool. I didn’t want his pity.
The only sound was the muffled giggling from the kids playing upstairs.
Slade’s phone pinged and I watched him text someone. Alex? A girl? Girls? I wondered what he was texting. Probably, Save me from the psycho Bird Brain.
Footsteps thudded on the stairs, then the kids streaked into the kitchen. For real. Neither one of them had a stitch of clothing on.
“Gillian! Max!” I pointed toward the hallway. “Both of you. Get dressed right now or we won’t have any fun today.”
“What are we doing, anyway?” Gillian asked.
“I’ll tell you after you’re dressed.”
She and Max looked at each other. Neither of them moved.
Slade sauntered over, looking completely unfazed by the naked kids. He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re going to watch a movie. But only if you’re dressed.”
The kids jumped up and down. “Movie! Movie!” Max shouted. I’d never seen him so excited.
“What movie?” Gillian asked.
Slade shot a wary look at me then smiled at the kids. “It’s a surprise. Go get dressed.”
They tore out of the room like Olympic racers and thundered up the stairs.
“It’s not too late, Trina. You can still change your mind. Watch the boring documentary, or swim?”
Why was he so stubborn about getting his way? I shook my head. “If you’d bothered to crack the binder I gave you, you’d know that swimming is nowhere on the schedule.” I glanced at my watch. “In fact, we were supposed to start the film fifteen minutes ago.”
His grin was disgustingly sexy, even when he rolled his eyes. “I feel sorry for your future husband. You should come with a warning label stamped on your forehead.”
Anger flared in my chest. “You need a warning label, too,” I shot back.
He cocked an eyebrow, still grinning. “Yeah? What would mine say?”
Warning: Player. Slacker. Smart-ass. Lazy. Sexy. Wait, what? “Never mind,” I muttered.
He laughed softly. “You really need to lighten up, Clemons. I’m just messing with you.” He took a step toward me. “So, how about a swim?” His eyes scanned me from head to toe. “You could work on your tan.”
I crossed my arms protectively. “I don’t tan.”
His eyes, full of challenge, locked onto mine. “So I noticed.”
I swallowed. “I’m not interested in getting skin cancer.”
He took another step toward me, and I caught a whiff of his scent. Was that cologne? Soap? Whatever it was, it smelled really good. My legs suddenly felt wobbly.
“What’s up, BB?” He stood way too close. “What aren’t you telling me? I can tell you’re hiding something. You’re acting weirder than usual.”
A gasp escaped me before I could stop it. “Did you just… Are you calling me Bird Brain to my face?”
He smirked. “Not exactly. But you’re getting the general idea.”
My hand itched to slap him. But the way he was looking at me set off an internal fire, and not an angry one.
“Movie!” Gillian shrieked at the top of her lungs, screeching to a stop right between us.
Max walked calmly into the room, carrying a stuffed pink dinosaur. “Can we have popcorn, Trina?
Please?” His voice was a whisper, and he bit his lip.
Was Max scared of me? My heart thudded to my feet. I dropped to my knees and looked into his big brown eyes. “Yes, of course we can, Max. What’s a movie without it?”
He gave me a tentative smile. I reached out to touch his dinosaur. “What’s his name?”
“Her name is Peggy. It’s short for pegasaurus.”
I glanced at Slade, who studied me closely. I turned back to Max, flustered by Slade’s intense gaze. I didn’t want him trying to figure me out.
“I thought pegasauruses had wings?”
Max nodded, his face serious. “Hers haven’t grown in yet.”
“I see. Let’s make some popcorn, okay, kiddo?”
He gave me a tiny smile and nodded.
I stood up and glanced at Slade. “Any idea where the popcorn is?”
He shook his head, those cat eyes of his still fixed on me. He hadn’t been lying before—he knew I was hiding something. Damn him.
“It’s in the pantry,” Max said, tugging me into the kitchen.
Once the popcorn was ready, we all settled on the big couch in the family room.
“I hope it’s not a princess movie,” Gillian said. “Cuz I’m tired of those.” She pulled Spike onto her lap and rubbed his belly.
“I’m too little to watch Jurassic Park,” Max announced. “Even though I really want to. My dad said it’s too scary.”
“He’s right,” Slade said. He reached over to punch Max lightly on the arm. “Maybe when you’re double digits.”
Max frowned and Slade turned to me, laughter in his eyes.
“When you’re ten, buddy,” he explained.
“I’m going to drive a car when I’m ten,” Gillian announced.
Slade and I shared an amused glance, but I looked away quickly and queued up the documentary.
“Before we start,” I said, “I want you to know this movie is very important. After we watch it, I have some coloring worksheets for you, so pay attention.”
A snort of laughter from Slade made the kids jump. “Worksheets? Seriously, BB?”
Gillian looked back and forth between us. “Who’s BB?”
I narrowed my eyes at Slade. “I am.”
He mimicked my expression, narrowing his eyes. “You sure are.”
I wanted to smack that smirk right off his perfect, acne-free face. This wasn’t the guy whose smile had me reaching for more lavender oil. This guy needed to get fired. ASAP.
“What’s the movie, Trina?” Max asked, digging into the bowl of popcorn on my lap.
Turning away from Slade’s mocking expression, I hit play. Everyone sat quietly while music played over a montage of oceans and deserts. Gilly kicked off her shoes and leaned against Slade.
Traitor.
“Even though approximately seventy percent of our planet is covered by water, many parts of the earth still struggle with drought.” The narrator’s smooth voice filled the room.
“It’s not a cartoon,” Gillian said, sounding disappointed.
I could feel Slade’s self-satisfied gloat from across the couch, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.
“No, it’s not. But it’s more important than a cartoon.” I passed her the bowl of popcorn. She took a handful, but gave me a sour look.
I darted a glance at Slade. He raised his eyebrows at me and mouthed “Worksheets?” then rolled his eyes.
Just wait ’til I typed up my report on him tonight.
We made it through another ten minutes before Gillian slid off the couch. “This is boring,” she declared, hands on her hips.
Max glanced up at me. “The popcorn’s good, BB. But we like cartoons.”
Oh great. Now the kids were calling me BB?
“Yeah, BB. Let’s watch Despicable Me.” That came from Slade. I glared at him, but he just laughed, tucking his hair behind his ears.
“Yay! Minions! Minions!” Gillian shouted.
Max slid off the couch and joined her in the minion chant. Slade added his own voice, extra low.
I dropped my head to my hands. Once again, I’d been undermined by my supposed partner.
“This is not on the schedule,” I muttered.
Slade leaned in close to me and whispered, his voice tickling my neck, “Live dangerously, BB. I dare you.”
Startled, I raised my head, but before I could respond Slade launched himself off the couch and started digging through the tub of movies next to the TV. “Do you have Despicable Me?” he asked Max.
“I don’t know,” Max said. “Maybe?”
“You guys!” I yelped, jumping up from the couch. “This is not the plan. We’re going to watch the documentary.” I grabbed my binder and slammed it on the coffee table, jabbing my finger at the cover. “It’s on the schedule!”
They all stared at me, then at my binder, then back at me.
“I hate the binder!” Gillian screeched. Before I could stop her, she ran to the table, grabbed it, and took off running. Max tore after her, Spike close behind.
Slade stood up, shaking his head and laughing. “I think that’s called a mutiny. Or maybe a coup.”
“You!” I pointed at him, trembling with anger. “You’re worse than the kids. You’re supposed to be my partner, Slade.”
His laughter stopped and he spoke through a clenched jaw. “I am your partner, Trina.”
“Oh really? Is that what you call it? Flaking out at the museum? Encouraging Gillian when she did that awful puppet show? Undermining me just now when you knew we were supposed to watch a documentary?”
He stalked over to me, his eyes flashing. “And just who the hell put you in charge anyway, Trina? You haven’t listened to any of my ideas. You treat me like me I’m another kid you have to babysit.”
“Because you are!” I sounded hysterical. I hated it, but couldn’t control it. “But you’re worse, because you’re not five years old. I might as well be nannying by myself.” My chest heaved. “I wish I was.”
He jerked back as if I’d slapped him.
“Fine,” he snapped. “You want to fly solo? Do it. I’ll give my resignation today. I don’t need this crap. I can find a job where I’m not treated like a child.” He stormed out of the room and the front door slammed, rattling the china plates hanging on the kitchen wall.
I stood there trembling, clenching and unclenching my fists. Tears filled my eyes. I wanted to scream. To shatter something against the wall. I knew everything would fall apart. I knew it. But I’d felt sorry for Slade’s mom and look where it had gotten me.
Breathe, I told myself. Keep breathing.
It’s what you wanted, right? To do this on your own?
I couldn’t believe he’d just walked out. I should text Max’s mom to let her know. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but hesitated. It could wait until she got home. It wasn’t like an emergency. I could handle the kids just fine without him.
Where were they, anyway? I pulled at my hair and started the hunt.
“Gillian? Max? Where are you?”
No response, but I heard a humming noise. Was that a vacuum cleaner? I followed the sound. Now I heard laughter mixed in with the grinding noise. Spike barked excitedly from behind the office door.
I threw open the door. Max and Gillian knelt on the floor next to a shredder, shoving paper into its noisy jaws.
“Stop!” I shrieked. “You could lose your fingers!” I rushed across the room to turn off the shredder, but it just made a horrible thunking whine when I hit the power button. They’d shoved in too many pages, and now it was jammed.
“What are you shredding anyway?” I tugged the papers out of the shredder, tormented by visions of important financial paperwork being destroyed on my watch. I smoothed the mangled page and my stomach plummeted.
Appropriate Play Behavior for Five-Year-Olds. The words swam in front of my eyes.
I stared at Max and Gillian, horrified. “My binder?” I whispered. “You shredded my binder?�
�� I sank to the floor.
This was too much. Slade had walked out on me, and now this? My binder lay open next to the shredder, all of the pages torn out of it. Some of the paper had been hand-shredded, thrown around the room like confetti. The rest had been pulverized in the mechanical shredder.
Failure. That was me. Complete and total failure. Tears spilled down my cheeks. Spike climbed onto my lap, trying to lick my face. Then Gillian burst into a crying jag, and Max followed suit, sobs racking his tiny body.
“I’m sorry,” Gillian wailed. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” She shoved Spike off my lap and clambered onto my crossed legs. Max joined her, forcing himself onto my lap and wailing that he was sorry, too.
“Holy cannoli, Batman. What fresh hell is this?”
We all looked up at the sound of Slade’s voice from the doorway. His gaze swept over us, taking in the mess and the still-shuddering shredder.
“You cussed,” Gilly accused him, wiping tears from her cheeks.
Slade crossed the room and sat down next to us, stretching out his long, muscular legs. I averted my gaze, and stared at Spike instead.
“What happened?” He sounded anxious, which surprised me.
I wondered if my face was all splotchy and red from crying. Not that it mattered. I closed my eyes and rested my chin on Gillian’s head.
Maybe I was the one who should resign today.
“We shredded the binder.” Max’s voice was barely audible.
I slowly opened my eyes to find Slade staring at Max like he’d just confessed to a federal crime.
“Dude,” Slade whispered. “For real?”
Max nodded and lowered his head, unwilling to meet Slade’s eyes.
Slade whistled, a long, slow whistle of amazement, then turned his gaze on me. “Should I call an ambulance? Are you going into shock?” Barely contained amusement danced in his eyes.
I wanted to hit him. To yell at him. But I didn’t have the energy.
Clearly I sucked at this whole nanny thing, since the kids hated me enough to destroy my binder. Why couldn’t I make them happy? I wanted them to have a fun summer but it wasn’t working. Fresh tears spilled from my eyes, and I turned away from Slade, embarrassed. I desperately wished he hadn’t come back to witness my collapse.
“Hey.” His voice was soothing now, not mocking. “I think everybody needs to take a deep breath.”
Playing the Player Page 7
