Chapter Nine

Gray

The next morning, before I leave for work, I stand at the back window as Callie and Emery get to work on some gardening. Emery looks in her element, leaping around but moving carefully when Callie waves a hand at her. Callie is wearing another of those floaty dresses. My body stirs as I watch her stretch her arms over her head, causing the fabric of her dress to stretch tight across her breasts. Her hair is tied back, highlighting her features. She is youthful and vivacious, her cheeks red from the morning heat.

I grit my teeth, then sip my coffee, then grit my teeth some more. I want to walk out there, wrap my arm over her shoulder so badly, and kiss her on the cheek. “Have a good day at work, hon,” she’d say, and I’d tell her, “Take care of our girl. I’ll see you later.” Maybe she’d make eyes at me as she replied, “I’ve got something special for dessert…”

As they traipse around the yard, I can’t stop wishing for that. It’s a mistake, but it’s there all the same.

Callie must feel me watching her as she’s bent over a flowerbed. She looks up and smiles. I do my best to smile in return. But the animal part of me is looking at her cleavage from this angle, the way a few strands of her hair have fallen loose like she’s messy and sexy and ready for more.

More ? No—that stuff in the gym didn’t mean anything. We can pretend it didn’t, anyway. I don’t want to ruin Emery’s happiness.

***

Wes swings by the office for his lunchbreak. It doesn’t take him long to get around to the topic of Callie. I noticed something off at The Scoop yesterday, but I was hoping that would be the end of it. Cleary, I was wrong.

He paces in front of my desk. He’s always full of energy. Sloane was the same, except hers was manic. Unfortunately, it got worse after she gave birth to Emery. It was like she couldn’t be still for longer than a few seconds—like she was constantly looking for a reason to be anywhere except with her daughter.

“She’s trying to make you want her, man,” he blurts.

I shake my head. “The hell are you talking about?”

“I saw the way she was looking at you at The Scoop. She can tell you’ve got the hots for her—”

“Who said I’ve got the hots for her?” I snap.

He stops pacing and places his hands on the desk, looking at me with surprising seriousness. For Wes, being serious is a last resort. “Please, no lies.”

That’s all he has to say. He doesn’t need to come out and tell me why he doesn’t want me to lie. He could easily add the word ‘again,’ bringing all the stuff about Sloane to mind. But he doesn’t need to, and he’s not that cruel.

“Okay, yeah, I find her attractive,” I admit. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.” I conveniently leave out the fact I already have sort of acted on it.

“She knows you like her,” Wes mutters. “And she’s going to use that to try and trap you. No offense, Gray, but it’s not like you’ve got a lot of experience. You’ve been married to your work, then dedicated to Emery. When’s the last time you went on a date?”

I can’t answer that without delving into awkward territory—his sister. He reads my expression and flinches. He knows what I’m holding back. “The point is,” he continues, “sooner or later, she’s going to get what she wants. You’re going to slip. She’ll jump on it, use it to her advantage.”

“You’re talking like she’s some criminal mastermind,” I snap. “She’s a kind, pretty, twenty-three-year-old nanny. Emery loves her. And even if I’ve got a… crush.” The word seems far too juvenile for these hungry feelings burning in me, but I don’t know what else to use. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything. Plus, I think you’re wrong about her trying to trap me. Or use me. Or anything like that.”

“That’s exactly what she’d want you to think if she was doing that. You heard her at The Scoop. She couldn’t stop talking about money.”

“No, Wes. I heard you practically forcing her to lead the conversation, then looking at her like a goddam police investigator with everything she said. Anyway, just relax. Nothing’s going to happen between us. We’ve both got too much baggage.”

“Huh?” He suddenly sits and leans forward, back to his investigator routine. “What does that mean?”

“What?”

“Don’t what me. You just said it. You both have baggage. I know about your baggage, obviously, but what’s hers?”

“I don’t think I can share that with you,” I mutter. “It wouldn’t be right. But a couple of things have happened to her. She’d probably not want to get into a relationship, especially with an older man, especially with one who has power over her.”

I was thinking about this, lying in bed last night. If she can feel this heat, too, she’s got every reason to ignore it. She doesn’t want to get into another Jorge Lopez situation. She doesn’t want her boss to have more power over her, romantic or financial. It’d be like going back to square one.

“So she’s already given you a sob story.”

I gasp. “Jesus, Wes. You—”

He holds up a hand to stop me. “You’re my best friend. Emery is the light of my life. I’m allowed to have an opinion. I don’t want to see that little girl get hurt.”

“She hasn’t given me a goddamn sob story ,” I growl. “She’s just shared a little about her past. That’s all. You’re making this into something it’s not.”

“Or maybe you’re so blinded by how hot you think this chick is you can’t see straight.”

“Callie is the nanny, Wes. She’s not Emery’s mom. She’s not my woman. She’s the nanny .”

“Why are you saying it like that?” When I don’t respond straightaway, he frantically explodes, “It’s because you think I’m freaking because Callie isn’t Sloane, right? I don’t want to see anybody except for Sloane in your house, with my niece? But that’s not it, not even close. It’s nothing to do with that. It’s everything I’ve said—everything you’re too blind to see.”

“So you think Callie’s a gold digger because she smiled at me over some ice cream.”

“Do you think I’d be saying any of this if I didn’t want the best for you?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “No, Wes. I know you’re coming from a good place. I just think you’re wrong.”

He grinds his teeth audibly, spinning in the chair to look out the window. “I can’t say there’s no truth in it, Gray. Sure, I wish Sloane wasn’t who she was. I wish she hadn’t run out. I wish you could all be a happy family. I wish I could go to Christmas at one place—yours and Sloane’s, instead of spending Christmas Eve with her and then swinging by yours to see Emery. But that doesn’t mean that’s what this is about. My instincts tell me you need to be careful with that woman. In my world, I’ve seen too many people taken advantage of.”

“I’m not some stupid old man who’s going to be tricked by a gold digger,” I tell him.

“That’s what they all say, Gray,” he mutters sadly. “Until it happens, nobody believes they’ll get scammed.”

His words bounce around my head all day, but I just can’t make them fit with my idea of who Callie is. Maybe that’s because I don’t want to believe them. I don’t know Callie, not really, but a girl raised in a cult is bound to develop the ability to manipulate, isn’t she?

I don’t like thinking of her like this, but it’s like when I’m too close to a project. I have to pan out. Take the big-picture view. I’m a man who has been burned by the mother of his child. I’ve been cold and distant ever since, and now Callie has awoken something in me. If she noticed my attraction, she could play it on, wearing those gorgeous summer dresses, moaning in the gym, making sure to be especially loving to Emery in front of me.

She could twist my head until I end up doing exactly what I’m doing now… sitting in my office, obsessing over her.

Do I believe it? Can I accept it?

When I get home, Emery comes running for me down the hallway, a big grin on her face. “Daddy, Callie found a trampoline in the garage. Come, look!”

She takes my hand, leading me into the backyard. Callie has put the trampoline together. I completely forgot I even bought it. It makes me feel like a rich douche. Emery was begging for one; then, she seemingly forgot she’d ever had the desire. But now, it’s built. Callie is jumping up and down. I’m relieved when Emery lets go of my hand so that she can clap.

Callie turns to me, laughing. She’s still wearing a dress. The hem flies up, revealing a flash of her thick, beautiful thighs. Her tits… fuck . The way they jiggle with each bounce. She slowly stops, hopping down.

“Do you want a turn, Emery?”

“Uh, duh .”

Callie laughs, then lifts her onto the trampoline. Callie walks over to me. Her breath sounds a little ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Wes’s words are loud in my head. If an opportunistic nanny was manipulating me, this is the sort of thing she’d do. My cock stiffens as her scent washes over me, perfume, sweat, her .

“Have I done something wrong?” she whispers. “Don’t tell me that was a birthday present or something. It was under a bunch of junk. Gray?”

“I forgot I bought it,” I say, doing my best not to look at her. She makes me feel drunk just with a glance.

“So it’s okay? That I put it together? Or should I have asked? I’ve been supervising Emery the whole time.”

“It’s fine,” I growl, staring down at Callie, her perfect breasts, her flushed cheeks, her mouth slightly open as if she were waiting for me to kiss her. I remember how she moaned in the gym, thrusting her wide hips, her tight ass swaying like she was riding my pole. “I need to take a shower.”

I turn away, walking quickly as if I can outrun these thoughts—Goddamn Wes for poisoning my mind.