28. Mira

28

MIRA

"Zane's assistant can't be a bitch to you and get away with it," Taylor announces loudly enough that her voice echoes off the glass windows of the building across from us.

The people walking on the street three storeys below can probably hear her.

"Shh!" I wave my arms around wildly. "Do you mind? I came out here to have a private conversation. Screaming at the top of your lungs defeats the purpose."

"It's not like she's here. Which is the point. You live here; she doesn't. If anyone gets to be all crazy and possessive, it's you."

I swirl my Moscato. "I don't want anyone to be crazy and possessive. I don't actually live here; I just work here."

I should have known I'd regret telling Taylor about what happened with Hanna this morning. If she doesn't tell Zane directly, she's definitely going to blab to Daniel.

Or, worse yet, she'll call up Hanna herself. Taylor is all about confrontation.

I, on the other hand, couldn't even confront Zane's abs without my ability to be a functioning human flying straight out of my head.

"Exactly. You work here ," Taylor echoes. "It's your job to take care of Aiden, and that lady was being a bitch to him. Zane should know about it. He's paying her salary. She shouldn't be disrespecting his son or his hot new piece of ass."

"Way to be dismissive of my career," I grumble. "Every dad being ‘hot for nanny' is a reductive stereotype. You just insulted Zane and me."

"It's only a stereotype if it's not true." She wags her brows at me. "The man paid for two nail technicians to come here and give us in-house manicures. I don't think that's a normal perk of the job."

Okay, she might have me there. But it was a thank you. For taking Aiden to the game. And maybe for the advice I gave him last night.

"Am I right or am I right?" Taylor presses, eyebrows raised.

"I want a third option."

"You know I'm right!" She lunges toward me and I have to fight for my life not to spill my wine as she clanks our glasses together in a nonconsensual cheers.

"Seriously, Mimi, you should tell him about this assistant of his," she muses. "It could be a nice little litmus test. Like, if he fires her on the spot, then you know he's into you."

"All I'd know is that he doesn't want toxic assholes around his son."

Taylor groans. "Fine. Then the test would be whether he believes you or not. If he takes her side, then you'd know that he might not be that into you."

I'm the one arguing that Zane and I aren't into each other, but the possibility that he doesn't feel any of the tension I'm picking up on stings a little worse than I expected it to.

"Or," I suggest, "alternate option: I don't tell him about Hanna because Zane has more than enough on his plate right now. I don't want him to worry about finding a new assistant on top of everything else."

Taylor is quiet for a suspiciously long time. When I turn to her, she's staring at me with wide eyes.

"What?" I snap. "What is that face?"

She shakes her head. "Sorry. I'm just shocked. I've never seen you, Mira McNeil, smitten by someone before."

"‘ Smitten'? What does that even mean? I'm not smitten."

"You care about Zane."

"No!" I wag a finger at her. "No, no. All I care about is working in a peaceful environment. Hanna takes care of all of Zane's administrative stuff. If she quits, then our schedule falls apart. Plus, Zane will have to use his free time to interview new assistants. It would take away from his time with Aiden. And he needs time with Aiden so that he can feel like a good dad even when he has to leave to go play—Why are you looking at me like that?!"

Taylor is all moony-eyed as she circles a finger around my face. "You are worried about Zane's work-life balance and his feelings . You don't care about anyone's feelings, Mira. Ever."

"Oh my God. You're making this into a big thing and it isn't."

"So you admit it? You admit that there is something? " she argues. "There has to be something if I can make it into something even bigger, right?"

"This isn't a riddle. It's my life. I know how I feel better than you do."

"Incorrect. I know everything and you are in deep denial. I mean, just admit it." She leans in and tries to speak quietly, but wine-drunk Taylor severely lacks volume control. "You don't have to tell me that you love him and want to have his blonde-haired, blue-eyed, hockey-playing babies. But at least admit that you think he's scrumdiddlyumptious."

"I will never, ever say that word."

She shakes my arm and I have to quickly finish my drink before it sloshes all over my lap. "Come on! Admit it!"

When I'm in danger of all the fizzy bubbles in my stomach spewing out of me like a shaken champagne bottle, I throw up my hands. "Fine! Zane is objectively, ridiculously hot, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I have eyeballs and a pulse, therefore I like looking at his symmetrical face and his toned body. Sue me!"

Taylor is giddy and sparkly from all the wine and my confession, but it has nothing on the way she beams when her eyes shift over my shoulder towards the door. Her mouth opens in a silent scream and she grabs my thigh, her freshly-manicured nails digging into my skin.

"Ow! Would you let go of?—"

"Mira?"

Nooo. No. No. No.

This isn't happening.

I refuse to believe that my life is this cursed.

Then I turn around and the proof of said curse is there in the doorway, filling out a gray pocket tee and jeans like it's his damn job.

My stomach bottoms out, which must affect the rest of my organs, which must be why my voice comes out all high-pitched and moany and breathy when I finally say, "Yes?"

To his credit, Zane's face gives nothing away. He looks cool and relaxed. Like someone who is used to hearing compliments just like that one.

"Aiden is looking for a very specific plastic cup for his snack, but I don't know what he's talking about."

"It's the red one with the blue lid. It's in the dishwasher. Top rack."

He nods in thanks and gives Taylor a two-finger wave before he ducks back inside just as silently as he arrived.

Once Taylor has a freak-out that involves lots of shoulder shaking and squeaky screaming, I manage to steer her towards safer topics. Like Daniel.

She insists she's not that into him, and like a good friend, I don't annoy her into admitting the true feelings I can see swirling just beneath her surface.

Though I definitely should.

And then record it.

And send it to Daniel.

I don't, though. That's how good of a friend I am.

By the time Taylor leaves two hours later, I'm flushed on a bit too much wine and a really good day.

Zane was right: I needed this.

I'm padding down the hall to my room, considering breaking in the tub in my ensuite for the first time, when I hear Aiden's little voice coming through the crack in his door.

I can't help myself—I inch a little closer.

"Daniel flew in a plane and my teeth glowed in these weird blue lights," Aiden says, breathless he's so excited.

He's talking about the Children's Museum, and knowing he had a good time on an outing I planned for him warms my heart. I never would have thought to be a nanny, but maybe this is my calling.

Probably not. Because no other kid will be as cool as Aiden.

"Oh, and Mira rode a dinosaur!"

Zane chuckles and my warm heart beats a little faster. "I saw that. Daniel sent me pictures."

Oh, God. I was so focused on Aiden having a good time that I didn't even notice the camera. I'm sure I look ridiculous in all of them.

Zane answers Aiden's questions about hockey and they read a few books together. I know I should leave and go to my room. This is Zane's time with his son, and he thinks they're alone.

But I can't make myself walk away.

Zane brought me here to help him take care of Aiden, and somewhere along the way, I got emotionally involved. Taylor thinks it's because I like him, but… I want this to succeed. Not just so I get paid, but so Zane and Aiden can have each other.

I know what it's like not to have family, to feel alone.

I don't want that for either of them.

Zane starts singing softly. I can't make out the words, but the deep rumble of his voice is soothing enough that I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes.

I'm still standing there, lost in the peacefulness of it all, when I hear Aiden's door snick closed.

My eyes snap open, but not soon enough. Zane is standing in the hallway, watching me. Shadows sharpen his features until he looks almost feral.

"Sorry, I was?—"

"Spying on me?" He saunters closer.

"No, I wasn't. Well, I mean…" I drop my face in my hands. "Definitionally, I was spying. But don't worry, I have no nefarious motives."

Stalker. He's going to fire me because I'm a weird, creepy stalker.

He hums, a low sound deep in his chest. "Somehow, I doubt that."

The air feels charged and my instinct is to flee before lightning strikes. I back towards my room. "Well, I should go to bed."

"Are you going to wear that jersey again?" Zane's eyes go dark as they drag over me, like he's picturing me in it right now.

"Is there a new condition I should know about?" I ask, pressing my thighs together. "Do you get to tell me what to wear?"

"If so, I'd ban sundresses," he murmurs so softly I barely hear him.

I glance down at the gray floral sundress I'm wearing. "What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head. "If you're going to wear a jersey in this house, it better be mine."

"Why do you even care?" I ask with a laugh.

But my smile fades when he scrapes his eyes over me again, his lower lip pinched between his perfect teeth. "I have no fucking idea."

My heart stutters, but I swallow down my nerves. "Well, if you care so much, you should give me one."

I don't even want to imagine the dirty dreams I'd have if I went to bed with Zane's jersey on. I'd be better off burning it in some kind of voodoo ritual. Whatever it takes to purge all these lusty thoughts.

"I have one in my bedroom." He takes another step closer to me. "Do you want it?"

I have to tilt my chin to meet his eyes, and the second I do, my head goes empty. He's tall and broad and every breath is like walking through a pine grove in the winter. He smells clean and I want to know if he tastes just as good.

"Your bedroom," I breathe, grabbing at the scattered words I can recall. "I want…"

Suddenly, Zane's hand is on my waist. His fingers bunch in the fabric of my dress and I fall back against the wall.

No, correction: he pushes me against the wall.

Then our bodies find each other like magnets, helpless to fight against the attraction that's been there since the moment he barged through that bathroom door.

He dips his mouth to my ear, his breathing tickling over my neck. "I heard exactly what you want."

Of course he overheard my confession to Taylor. I knew he did, but hearing him admit it feels like we're crossing a line we can't come back from.

"Zane…" I don't know if I'm going to apologize for saying it or say it all over again. I can't think straight when he's this close.

He turns his face into the crook of my neck, growling against my skin. "I like it when you say my name. I can't stop thinking about what it would sound like if you screamed it."

His words are like some spell, slipping through my body and taking control of my actions. Without meaning to, I arch my hips forward until we're flush together. The hard press of his erection against my stomach makes me dizzy.

Zane curses softly and grabs my hips. He drags me against him and we both shudder.

Wetness pools between my legs and I'm not thinking about anything beyond this hallway. I can't. My world has narrowed to his breath on my neck and his hands on my hips.

He bunches his fists in the material, dragging my dress higher and higher up my legs. If he wanted to cinch it around my waist and fuck me right here, I'd let him.

I want him to.

I have one half second of clarity. Enough to say, "Aiden might come out and see. We should?—"

Zane yanks himself away from me like we were just doused in ice water. I stumble forward, off balance without him.

Go to my room , I was going to say. Finish this somewhere private.

But he drags a hand through his hair and takes a few more steps away from me. Like I'm a sinkhole that will suck him in if he gets too close.

"Forget it. Wear whatever you want." He spins around, leaving me needy and breathless against the wall. "I don't care."