Chapter Fifteen

Gray

I get home from work early the next day. Callie and Emery are in the yard again; Emery is jumping up and down on the trampoline while Callie reclines on a lawn chair, a book in her lap, her legs crossed. Usually, I’d let my gaze settle over her delicious thighs, let my mind flood with fantasies about kissing up her legs, pushing them apart, and finding her heat. Now, I won’t even have to imagine how her perfect body would feel. I’d lick and stroke her virgin slit…

But no. Not anymore. Callie made her feelings clear last night. Plus, Sloane is going to be here in a couple of hours. The last thing she needs is any indication that I’ve got the hots for the nanny. Knowing her, she’d get jealous or at least pretend to be in order to hurt me. She’s a vicious, manipulative person. Even Wes, after a few drinks, will admit as much. But he always focuses on her so-called good points when he sobers up.

“Daddy!” Emery carefully climbs down from the trampoline, glancing at Callie for approval in a way that tells me Callie has told her to use caution.

Emery runs over and throws herself into a hug. “Is Mommy still coming?”

“Yes,” I tell her.

“Okey-dokey,” she says. She’s clearly trying to be more upbeat. I tell myself it’s a good thing, but I’m still concerned about what will happen if she gets too attached and then Sloane disappears, which she undoubtedly will.

Or what if she doesn’t? What if Sloane sticks around, actually parents Emery, and makes Emery more similar to her every single day? I’m not sure which would be worse.

Callie approaches, tying her hair in a bun. I don’t let myself notice the sun bouncing off her cheeks. I don’t let my hungry gaze move over the gradations of her voluptuous body. Or I try not to, anyway, which is better than yesterday.

“Are you sure you still want me to join you?”

“Sloane doesn’t want me third wheeling,” I say. “And she’s determined to bring a date.” I watch as Emery returns to the trampoline, moving out of earshot. “She might be up to something. She often is. I wish I could tell her to back off. But I have to put Emery first. If we can get through this dinner, she’ll get bored. Move on. It’s always how she’s been. Get involved—back off. Then repeat. It’s her specialty.”

“Well, I’ll just be the nanny,” she says, looking down at the ground, not at me.

There’s something almost offensive to me about that. I spoke to Wes earlier. When I told him what happened, he sighed and said, “Dammit, man. You need to be careful. She’s given you a taste now. She knows you’re going to want more .” I almost felt the crazy urge to punch my best friend’s teeth in. There was a moment when I seriously considered it. I wanted to grab him and bellow in his face, “She’s not manipulating me, you ass. It’s only your sister who does that.”

“That’s all I am, anyway,” Callie continues, jolting me from the moment, looking up at me. “Right?”

No. She’s so much more. I know she can feel it, too. But we have a deal. And tonight, I need that deal to hold tight. I can’t let anything slip. I can’t let my guard down, for my daughter’s sake. “Right.”

“What should I wear?” Callie asks. “Something conservative? Something that won’t trigger her? She seemed pretty annoyed when Emery hid behind me in the park. I don’t want to give her any reason to pick at me.”

“You can wear whatever you want,” I snap. “Sloane’s coming to my house. You’re my…” I force myself to say it. “Employee. She’s got no right to dictate what you wear. Or even to have an opinion about it.”

Callie nods. “I’ll keep it simple, anyway. Jeans and a T-shirt. There’s no point going for style points against her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even in the park, she looked glamorous.”

“You’re far more beautiful and stylish than her,” I say reflexively.

Callie gives me a look. Yeah, that’s right. We’re just employer and employee. I mime zipping my mouth shut. Callie smiles, and it warms me up.

***

“Daddy, look how pretty Callie looks!” Emery leads Callie into the living room, where I’ve laid out some appetizers before dinner. I almost hired a chef for the meal before realizing that brittle Sloane would probably take offense at the gesture.

Emery is wearing a polka-dot dress… and so is Callie. They’re matching. Callie smiles at me tightly, concern in her eyes. I know what she’s thinking—Sloane’s going to take this badly. “Do you like it, Daddy?” Emery goes on, bubbling with excitement. “I said to Callie, let me look at your closet. And I saw this dress and then said, ‘Callie, I have the same dress.’ Isn’t that so cute?”

I swallow. There’s no denying that Callie looks smokingly beautiful in the dress. It perfectly shapes her figure. It gives her a kind of vintage look as if I can imagine returning from a long-ago war and sweeping her into my arms for a Hollywood-style kiss.

“You both look great,” I tell Emery.

“But,” Callie adds. “Remember what I said, little lady? We were going to show your daddy, and then I was going to put on my original outfit.”

Emery frowns. “But, but, we both look great .” She mimics my voice.

Callie’s smile gets tighter. She glances at me and at the window as if expecting Sloane any second. Her thoughtfulness is just another reason I find her so alluring. All the time, she’s calculating how her actions will affect others.

“You definitely do,” Callie says. “But I’m so clumsy, I’m going to get food all over this pretty dress. Wait here. I’ll go get changed.”

When Callie walks toward the door, Emery does something out of character. She lets out a petulant scream and runs in front of Callie, folding her arms.

“No!” she snaps. “We’re wearing the same dress.”

Callie kneels, putting her hand on Emery’s shoulder. “I know you want us to wear the same thing. I know it feels like it makes things more special. But you don’t get what you want by raising your voice and behaving this way, Emery. I’m going to get changed, so you can either be okay with that or throw a tantrum. It won’t change the outcome.”

Emery’s lip curls. For a terrifying second, she looks like Sloane. But then her usual bubbliness replaces it. She sighs. “O -kay .”

I smile at Callie. She handled that like a pro. No sooner has she left the room than the doorbell goes, indicating that somebody is at the front gate. Emery suddenly looks nervous. She clasps her hands in front of her, jumping from foot to foot.

“Is that Mommy?”

“I think so,” I say.

“I don’t have to be at the whole dinner,” she murmurs, repeating what I told her earlier. “Just a slice ’o pizza pie, right, Daddy?”

The phrasing makes me laugh despite the nerves twisting in my gut. This night has disaster written all over it. But I have no other option other than putting my head down and getting on with it. “Just a slice ’o pizza pie,” I agree. It’s what Emery says anytime she wants to leave the table early, no matter the meal.

Walking out to the front garden, I press the button to open the main gate. Sloane’s date guides the car into the security light. He pokes his head out of the vehicle. He looks like a banker, wearing an expensive suit, a Rolex glinting at his wrist. His hair is combed back and shiny. He looks vaguely familiar. Is he a celebrity? Have I seen him with Sloane before? I can’t quite place him.

“Where do I park, big man?”

The big man has a slight condensation to it. I warn myself to take it easy. From the passenger seat, Sloane is grinning, her glassy eyes telling me she’s already been on the booze. She seems to enjoy her date’s challenging tone.

“Just out front is fine,” I say, following the Aston Martin back toward the house.

That niggling thought returns. I know him from somewhere, but I can’t think where.

I still don’t have any idea once we’re in the light of the hallway. He’s on the tall side. Not as tall as me—not many people are—but tall all the same. He removes his jacket and rolls his sleeves up as if to flash his Rolex. He, too, has that glassy-eyed look.

Emery stands on the far side of the room, her hands in front of her, looking pale and nervous.

“Oh, look at you ,” Sloane says, slurring slightly. “Aren’t you pretty in your polka-dot dress?”

Emery smiles nervously as Sloane approaches. “Thank you.”

“Thank you…” Sloane waits expectantly. When Emery coughs up the Mommy she was expecting, Sloane claps her hands as if a pet has just performed a trick. “Oh, how wonderful.”

Emery laughs. I know that sound. It’s the laugh she offers when she’s not sure what else to do.

“Ah, appetizers,” the man says.

I clear my throat. “Sloane, are you going to introduce us?”

Sloane taps her head. “Oh, how rude of me. Gray, this is Maxwell. Maxwell, Gray. Maxwell works in finance. Gray is an architect. And I’m a soon-to-be bestselling writer.”

“Help yourself, Max,” I say.

He leans forward, taking a plate and loading it up with snacks.

“Callie!” Emery yells happily when Callie returns.

Sloane’s expression darkens. She has no right to be jealous when she’s purposefully avoided being a part of her daughter’s life, but I still wish Emery could tone it down a little. Then I hate myself for the thought. It’s not as if Emery knows how twisted her mom can be. I’ve never let Emery see my feelings for Sloane.

Callie’s changed into pale blue jeans and a baggy T-shirt. It does nothing to diminish how beautiful she is.

Emery jogs over to Callie, taking her hand. Sloane’s jaw tightens to the point it sticks out of her skinny face like it’s going to break the skin. “Callie, this is Mommy. And this is Maxwell. Not just Max. Max well . Isn’t that neat?”

Callie looks at Maxwell, her cheeks turning pale, her eyes widening for a moment. She seems terrified. But then the expression fades, making me wonder if I imagined it. She says, “Nice to meet you.”