‘I’m going to work for you?’
His smile was brighter than she’d seen it. She took a step back, as if she were afraid she would burn.
Oh, you’re afraid, all right.
‘Yes,’ she said curtly. Damn her thoughts. Damn her emotions. ‘Don’t screw it up.’
He was still grinning when she walked away.
CHAPTER THREE
TYLER COULDN’T FAULT his sister for being too proud to accept help when he had some of that pride, too.
Some? a voice in his head scoffed.
Fine. He had a healthy amount of pride.
It had been the reason he’d got into a fight over a girl when he was at school. He hadn’t been able to let go his rival’s flirting with his girlfriend, even though he’d known his mother would kill him for it. And it was why he didn’t have a relationship with his father. The man had abandoned his family for a job. It hadn’t started out that way, of course, but what did that matter when that was how it ended?
Today, his pride was the reason he had taken a more...formal approach to his first full day of work at Brooke’s.
‘Oh.’ Her eyes widened when she opened the door, scanning him as if she were a metal detector at the airport. ‘You’re...um...’ She heaved out a breath. ‘I shouldn’t, as your employer, comment on your attire. Or should I? Honestly, I’ve never had a housekeeper before, and it feels a bit more personal than... No, you know what? I should keep this professional.’
She stopped rambling when she saw the way he was looking at her. He couldn’t have said which way that was. He was reluctantly charmed, even if he did now see the flaw in his plan—and his pride.
‘A suit is hardly the most sensible attire for a housekeeping position, Mr Murphy.’
Her spine had straightened; her tone was clipped. It charmed him even more. Perhaps because it was clear he had some effect on her. He hadn’t worn a suit for that reason. He’d just wanted to make a good impression since he hadn’t been on his best behaviour the day before. Witnessing that effect now made the embarrassment worth it.
Because of course a suit wasn’t the best outfit to wear for a housekeeping position. He must have known that on some level because he had a change of clothing with him.
Maybe he had worn the suit to see how it would affect her. And if he had, he couldn’t call his pride healthy. It wasn’t healthy to figure out if a woman he’d met five years ago was affected by him when she was pretending she didn’t remember him. It was stubborn. Idiotic. Childish.
More so when he was this pleased at her response.
‘I wanted to show you I’m serious about being here,’ he said.
‘Do you have a change of clothing?’
‘I do.’
She lifted chin. ‘Well, then. I suppose that’s good.’
He didn’t give in to the smile at the reluctant comment. Only walked in when she opened the door wider and said, ‘Come inside.’
He shrugged off his jacket and turned to ask if she had a coat rack. He found her staring at him. ‘Is everything okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Of course.’ Her face flushed. ‘I was just wondering what you were thinking.’
‘I’ve already told you.’
‘I think you’re lying.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because this job involves cleaning and making sure my dog doesn’t destroy the house. It hardly requires a suit.’
‘You don’t think people who clean deserve to take pride in their appearance by wearing something like this?’
Her mouth opened for a solid few seconds before she replied. ‘That’s not what I said. Or meant.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Of course not. I meant...’ She trailed off. Started again. ‘When you start a job, you dress for the job. The time to impress is during the first meeting. Or the interview.’
‘I believe the time to impress is every day you show up.’
She studied him. Took in the curve of his mouth that he could no longer keep in. Rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t believe that you run a company of one hundred and fifty people with your level of maturity.’
His brows lifted. ‘Been looking me up?’
She didn’t reply to that. ‘I’ll walk you through what I need you to do today.’
He followed her, though this time he hid his smile. He wasn’t that big an idiot.
She showed him where everything was, explaining what she wanted quickly and concisely. It was a good thing his mother hadn’t coddled him. She’d raised both him and Tia to have the necessary skills to survive. He knew how to clean, how to cook, how to do laundry. When he was growing up, he’d cleaned his room every day, the house once a week. He’d alternated with Tia on cooking, except on the days his mother hadn’t had to work, which hadn’t been all that often. As for laundry... His mother had flat-out refused to wash a teenage boy’s dirty clothes.
‘You good with everything?’ she asked when she was done.
‘Yeah. I’m good. Where’s Mochi?’
She brushed a strand of hair from her face. It was in a long, sleek ponytail at the base of her skull, with a few pieces falling around her face. It went perfectly with the outfit she wore. A floral dress that flared at her hips in a whimsical way that still managed to look professional.
He wanted to take her hand and ask her to spin around. He wanted to hear her laugh breathlessly as she did so, embarrassed that he’d asked, but still wanting to please him.
He hated himself for it. For the fact that he wanted to please her because she made his heart thud and she clearly didn’t feel the same way.
‘He’s with my brother for the day,’ she answered, not meeting his eyes.
‘Did something happen?’
‘No. I... My brother has dogs. And a kid. And I think Mochi’s happier there than he is here, so I thought... It’s your first day. I thought I wouldn’t let him bother you.’
‘He’s not a bother,’ he said automatically. Then paused. ‘You don’t think Mochi is happy here?’
‘It’s not that he isn’t happy here...but he’s happier elsewhere.’ She lifted her hands in an awkward little gesture. ‘I think maybe he’s happier with someone else.’
‘So you don’t think he’s happy here or happy with you?’
‘When you say it like that it makes me sound like I’m delusional.’ She gave a self-conscious laugh.
‘Brooke,’ he said slowly, ‘I’m not sure why you think your dog doesn’t like you, but—’
‘Besides the obvious behaviour problems?’
‘Behaviour problems are a result of many things, and training helps with almost all of those things. But honestly, it sounds like you don’t think he likes you. As in, you as a person?’
The vulnerability on her face reminded him of the day they’d met. Of the days after. It was an expression that would come and go in between smiles and laughs. Sometimes those smiles and laughs had been hard-won, but that had made them seem worth more.
He’d been naïve. That much was clear, based on how badly he’d misinterpreted their ‘connection.’ But now he could see that his naivety went deeper than he’d initially thought. He’d never once attributed Brooke’s vulnerability to self-doubt. No—not self-doubt. Something deeper. Something more complicated.
What was it? And why did he want to know so badly?
‘I have good instincts, Tyler. And I trust them.’ She exhaled and smoothed the front of her dress down. ‘Anyway. I’ll see you after work. Or I won’t.’
She walked to the kitchen and came back with a set of keys.
‘You can use this to get in and out. When I’m not here in the morning, I’ll leave a list of the things I need done on the kitchen counter. And that’s it. Any questions?’
‘No, thanks. I’m good.’
‘Great. T
hen I guess I’ll see you when I see you.’
With a curve of her mouth that he could hardly call a smile, she grabbed her things from a small table at the base of the staircase and left him alone. He stared after her for a while, then began his new job.
He started in the kitchen on the ground floor. It was a large, modern room, with light coming in from windows on one side and a glass door on the other. The door led to an outside area that was neatly decorated, with a large pot plant surrounded by two chairs. He went to wipe down the outside furniture, but completely forgot that task when he turned to his left.
It was a garden. A gigantic garden. With trees and flowers and a little pond all in one space.
When his business had started doing well, he’d bought himself a house. He’d actually wanted to buy one for his mother, but she’d refused. They’d fought about it for months, and in the end he’d bought the house he’d wanted to buy her for himself, so at least she’d get to experience it.
But buying something this extravagant hadn’t even occurred to him.
He should have expected it. Brooke’s house was in a notoriously wealthy neighbourhood in Cape Town. The house itself was enormous, and from what he’d seen on the inside, it had earned its place in the area.
But this... This was more than simply expensive. It was art.
There was a patio edged by wooden pillars. Between the pillars were three comfortable-looking couches with red cushioning surrounding a small round table. The table held a candle and some fresh flowers that had clearly been taken from the garden.
White stones led from the patio to a larger outdoor area and through trees in an S-shaped path that eventually looped around and led back. At regular steps of the path was a larger slab of stone to walk on. In the middle of the garden was the pond, with water lilies and actual, real-life fish causing the surface to ripple.
For the first time he noticed the bridge that went from one side of the pond to the other. As he walked the area, he saw that some of the larger trees had benches beneath them. One of them had a swing. And by the end of his exploration, he was wondering what the hell Brooke did to be able to afford this kind of artistry.
When he eventually went back to the kitchen to clean, he tried to use the task to distract himself from that question. But the problem with cleaning was that it gave him time to think. It always had; it was part of the reason he liked it so much. The fact that it was giving him that time now though, when he distinctly did not want it, felt like a betrayal.
So as he cleaned the white marble countertops and backsplashes, did the dishes, polished the wooden cupboards, his mind kept spinning on that question. The same thing happened as he washed the windows and the glass door, cleaned the oven and the microwave, vacuumed and mopped the floors.
He was tired of thinking by the time he moved to the dining room, where the most beautiful wooden dining table he’d ever seen sat on a beige carpet in front of a rustic fireplace.
And on the mantel of that fireplace was a picture of Brooke in the arms of a man.
She was wearing a wedding dress.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN BROOKE GOT to Dom’s that evening, Mochi wagged his tail, which her brother said meant he liked her.
‘You sound like Tyler,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
‘Tyler?’ Dom asked. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Oh...um...’ She cursed her skin when it started going warm. ‘He’s my new housekeeper.’
Dom stared at her. ‘Okay, I have a lot of questions.’
‘I imagine you do,’ she replied dryly. ‘You might as well ask them. I know you won’t stop bugging me until I answer.’
He didn’t even bother pretending it wouldn’t happen. ‘Why do you need a housekeeper?’
‘I don’t have a spouse to help me, like you have Sierra.’
He gave her a look. ‘That’s not going to work on me.’
‘It almost did though. Just a little.’
He ignored her. ‘How about the real answer?’
She sighed. ‘You know how crazy things are at work. They’ll be that way until the app launches, which is only in a month’s time. When I come home after a long day, I can’t deal with a messy house. Before I decided to hire Tyler there were dishes in the sink from the weekend. It was Thursday,’ she said, dropping her voice, disgusted with herself. ‘So, yeah, I called an agency and I got them to send someone to help me.’
Dom took all that in his stride. Or she’d have thought so if she hadn’t known him. Since she’d spent many years studying his expressions—and the last five in particular learning what his My sister’s husband is dead so I need to worry about her a million times more expressions were—she knew he was still concerned.
There hadn’t been one day in the year after Kian had died that Dom hadn’t worn that concerned expression. In the years after, his expression had vacillated between concern and pretence. She had mostly come out of her depression by then, and he hadn’t wanted her to notice his concern and worry. So he’d pretended.
‘Dom, it’s fine. I’m fine.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I know.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘So, tell me about this Tyler.’
She shrugged. ‘He’s a housekeeper.’
‘He...?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t be a jerk.’
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘You didn’t have to.’
He smirked. ‘So...what? He’s been lecturing you on Mochi?’
‘He might have witnessed some behavioural things. And I might have expressed some feelings about it.’
‘Like the fact that you think your dog adjusting to his new home means he doesn’t love you?’
‘I did not say that.’ Not in so many words.
He studied her. ‘Okay, sure.’ He paused. ‘You’re okay with this guy?’
‘Yeah. I mean, he works for an agency. They vet the people they send out thoroughly. It’s the safest way to do this.’
She chose not to tell him Tyler didn’t actually work for the agency. Good thing, too, since Dom didn’t even seem convinced by the version she had told him. She understood he was worried about her. Understood he’d got Mochi for her because he was worried.
He didn’t want her to be alone. As if being alone was some kind of problem that needed to be fixed.
She had thought that, too, in the beginning. Because then being alone had meant she’d had time to think about all the things she and Kian had done. Soon, that progressed to all the things she and Kian had never got to do. Like that trip to Japan he’d always wanted to take. Or building the house they’d always imagined together.
She’d done some of those things as a way to celebrate their union after he was gone. Or had it been a way to grieve? She’d certainly done enough of both during the experiences.
The house had perhaps been the hardest. Still was. Because every day she made tea in the kitchen they’d once dreamed about. She ate at the table they’d been saving to buy in a dining room they’d dreamed of having. She slept in the bedroom they’d designed together and she did it alone. All of it so alone.
The garden was the worst part. Or the best.
But she didn’t want to go there right now.
It didn’t stop the feeling, the memories, from following her into her home. She resented it, because although it was hard, it was still home. Her comfort. A place for her to relax and dream and reminisce about the past.
But she was used to the ebbs and flow of grief, even years after Kian’s death. Perhaps because it was years after death.
When she and Mochi got home, she found Tyler packing containers into the fridge.
Mochi’s reaction was somewhere between a yelp and a bark, his excitement apparently too much to contain in a simple response. He ran to Tyler. Brooke was about to tell him not to jump, but T
yler lifted a hand and Mochi skidded to a halt in front of him, almost on his hind legs. But he remained firmly on the ground.
And this is why I don’t think he likes me.
She almost said the words out loud, but she didn’t want to deal with another conversation about her feelings regarding her dog.
‘What are you still doing here?’ she asked instead, kicking off her heels—good heavens, how was she still in them?—and throwing her handbag onto the counter. Usually, she discarded both at the front door, but she’d wanted to let Mochi out as soon as possible so he could expend some of his energy in the garden.
‘I got caught up making dinner,’ he replied, his eyes searching her face as if he could see something worthwhile on it. ‘I’ll be out of your hair in a couple of minutes.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. Too quickly for her own liking. ‘No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just...’ She sighed. ‘It’s been a long day.’
His expression was unreadable. ‘Why don’t you sit and I’ll heat up some food for you?’
‘No.’
That answer was as quick as the first. Discomfort turned in her stomach. But feeling the way she felt... She couldn’t let this man take care of her in her home.
‘Okay,’ he said.
‘Would you...do you want to go out and get something to eat with me though?’ she asked, surprising herself. Because apparently she could let this man comfort her outside her home.
‘No,’ she said, ‘please don’t answer that. It was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have asked. I absolutely don’t expect you to have dinner with me. I also don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate what you’ve cooked for me. I’ll eat it, I promise. I... I wanted to get out. Which I know sounds weird, since I only got in now, but...’
She trailed off when she realised she was making it worse. She sucked in her bottom lip, then fought for a smile.
‘I’m sorry about that, Tyler. Please, feel free to go home. I will see you tomorrow.’
Which she knew was a lie; she would be avoiding him for as long as she possibly could.
Awakened by the CEO's Kiss Page 3
