11. Zane

11

ZANE

"Do you have experience with kids?"

"I… babysat growing up."

I wait for her to say something else, but that's it.

She winces. "I know that's probably not what you want to hear, but I don't have kids and none of my friends have kids yet."

"So why do you want to be a nanny?"

She bites her lower lip and I have to look away. "I want a job. Taylor Hall is my best friend and she thought I'd make a good nanny."

I know Taylor Hall. Well, I know of her. Her dad owns the Phoenix Angels, so I've seen her around the arena from time to time, though she keeps her distance from the players.

"Does Taylor know anything about kids?"

Mira almost laughs and I have a sudden need to see her smile. Really, genuinely smile.

"Not at all, but I've taken care of Taylor when she's drunk more times than I can count. A couple shots and she's basically a toddler. I have to follow around behind her to make sure she doesn't trip and hit her head on the corner of a table."

"Aiden is past that stage, I'm pretty sure."

I'm not entirely sure because he doesn't do much. Since Jodie dropped him off at my door two days ago, Aiden hasn't spoken a word. His therapist called it "selective mutism." He hasn't spoken to anyone since his mom died.

Right now, I know he eats, he's potty trained, and he likes sleeping with his head buried under the blankets.

Beyond that, the kid is a mystery.

"I didn't realize you had a kid," she says suddenly, dragging me from the mess of my thoughts. "Like, when we met, I mean."

When we met, I didn't. I could tell her the whole sordid story, but I'm not giving the details to anyone. Not until I officially hire them and they sign a beefy NDA. I don't need Aiden's trauma splashed across the internet for cheap clicks.

"It's hard to learn about someone when you're running at a dead sprint in the opposite direction," I say instead.

Her cheeks flush pink and I have the ridiculous urge to touch one. Is her skin warm? Is she as soft as she looks? What would she sound like if I ? —

Her voice is soft, almost a whisper. "I don't think we would have done a lot of talking if I'd stayed."

In an instant, I'm back in that bathroom. Mira moved towards me and all the wasted adrenaline pumping through me found another purpose.

I would have fucked her against the bathroom wall.

If she'd let me, I would have forgotten all about Coach and Carson waiting for me in the other room, and I would have lost myself in her.

She clears her throat, like she was as distracted for a second there as I was. "But we have a lot to talk about now. Like, my skills. I've been cooking for myself for almost fifteen years now and I've never set a kitchen on fire."

"Impressive."

"You like that? Then you'll be blown away when I tell you I've also never accidentally locked anyone in a dryer and I'd never put a toaster anywhere near a bathtub."

I smirk. "I thought you said you weren't a professional."

She tosses her dark hair over her shoulder. "Another interview tip," she whispers, making me want to lean closer to hear her better. "Set the bar low so you can leap over it later."

Fuck me. This is never going to work.

I thought having already seen her topless would be a problem, but getting to know Mira might be the actual problem. Underneath the nose ring and bitchy remarks, she might actually be pleasant to be around.

I'm about to cut this interview short and shove her right back out the door she fell through when she frowns and tilts her head towards the hallway.

"Do you hear that?" she asks.

Before I can answer, Mira is on her feet and walking down my hallway like she owns the place.

"Where are you—" But then I hear it.

Soft, muffled crying.

Mira yanks the hallway closet open and Aiden spills out. His shaggy hair is covering his eyes and his arms are wrapped around his knees. He's shaking.

Mira whips around to face me, her jaw clenched. "Did you lock him in there?"

"What? No!"

She studies me for a second like she'd be able to see the truth written on my face. Then, all at once, she turns away and kneels next to Aiden, oblivious to the way her dress slides up her thighs.

"Are you Aiden? I'm Mira."

He looks at her, tears staining his round cheeks.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly. "I heard you crying." She gives him a sad smile when he says nothing. "Sometimes, I cry, too. And a closet is a good place to cry. It's dark and you can be alone. If you want to be alone, we can leave and you can?—"

"No!" Aiden's hand darts out and wraps around Mira's wrist.

Holy shit.

It's the first time I've heard his voice.

"Okay. I'll stay." Mira glances up at me and I try to look unfazed, but my fucking God, he said something to her.

That has to mean something. I'm not sure I want to know what.

"We can talk," Mira suggests. "Or sing. Or maybe we can?—"

"Sing," Aiden whispers, shifting closer to her side.

Mira tucks an arm around him and smiles. "I shouldn't have offered to sing. I'm not very good at it and I don't know very many songs. Are there any you like?"

Aiden frowns. After a second, he shakes his head.

Did Paige ever sing to him? Did she ever hold him like this?

"That's alright. My grandma used to sing to me sometimes. I remember one she liked."

Aiden and I both watch transfixed as Mira closes her eyes and starts singing what I could swear is an Italian lullaby. I have no idea what she's saying, but it's slow and peaceful. Mira's voice catches in a few places, but Aiden doesn't seem to mind. My son tucks his head against Mira's shoulder.

By the second verse, his eyes are closed.

By the third, he's breathing deeply.

I stand there, watching until she's finished. The last note is still hanging in the air when she looks down and sees that he's asleep.

"I think you have a fan," I croak. "He liked your song."

"Only because it was in Italian." She gives me a guilty smile. "It's a song about sending your baby to a witch because they won't stop crying. My grandma sang it to me a few times when I was really little. I liked it, too, until I found out what it meant."

Aiden curls closer against Mira's side.

She looks up at me nervously. "Sorry. I probably shouldn't have charged in here and introduced myself. Since I don't have the job or whatever. But I heard him crying and I—I was worried."

She was worried that I locked my son in a closet. I should probably stop and unpack why the fuck that was her first thought, but it doesn't matter.

Mira is good for my son. Right now—after everything he's been through—that's all that matters.

"The job is yours if you want it."

Her green eyes find mine. She hesitates like she's waiting for me to laugh in her face. Like she's expecting me to yank the opportunity away again.

When I don't, she nods. "I'll take it."