Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Fiona and I both looked at Clara, running toward us. She grasped on to my lower legs with a casual form of affection that made my heart clench.
I put my arm around her, reveling in the moment, knowing that I wouldn’t always be able to pretend this little girl was mine to hold.
“Where’s June?” Clara peered around Fiona, more than a little excited about the prospect of the wild toddler being there for a surprise visit.
“She’s likely destroying something with her father.” Fiona winked. “I’ll bring her next time, when your father has ample warning to take protective measures.” Her eyes danced with a smile she directed behind me.
“I’ll ensure the entire house is bubble wrapped,” Beau responded dryly.
I didn’t look back, but the low rumble of his voice danced across my skin, and my teeth gritted together at his easy warmth with Fiona, a woman he barely knew.
He was capable of being witty, having a sense of humor, being pleasant. Just not with me.
Fiona crouched down to Clara’s level. “I’m wondering if I can borrow Hannah for the night. In return, I’ll let you babysit June.”
I bit back my smile, knowing the bargain would be more than enticing to Clara.
But there was a pause as she chewed on her lower lip, considering it.
She looked to me, then to Fiona. “Will she be back by my bedtime?”
I opened my mouth to assure her I would, but Fiona spoke before I could. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”
Again, my stomach did the weird thing where I was both nervous and excited. My life had been so small those past months. Even while dealing with the bill from Waylon, the complicated experience with Beau, the uncertainty of Clara’s healing journey, I’d had a meager, predictable number of people I interacted with. No social life. I didn’t have to share any of my personal information with anyone. I just had to take care of Clara and ignore Beau the best I could. It kept me safe. But it kept me lonely too.
“Will you come in, if I’m asleep, to check on my dreams?” Clara asked me, still holding on to my leg.
I pulled her up into my arms. “I promise. I’ll even give you some of mine to try out.”
It was something Clara and I talked about often, how I’d come in to check on her dreams and make sure no bad ones were lurking. She’d had a few nightmares over the months, and it seemed to help.
“Okay.” She nodded seriously. “I’ll allow it.”
I gave her a hug, squeezing her and sniffing her hair before setting her down on the floor.
Though I was appropriately terrified at the prospect of socializing with a bunch of women I barely knew, I was deep in it now. There was no escape.
Fiona chatted happily with Clara as I slipped on my shoes, which were at the door along with my jacket and purse.
Beau hadn’t moved. Because Fiona was in the vicinity and had a heck of a sharper eye than Clara. Beau and I knew what kind of pattern to settle into when adults were present. He was slightly less rude to me. Slightly.
I tried not to blush, mutter, and stumble over my words. I tried to seem like a well-functioning adult who didn’t hate her boss and desire him in equal measure.
“Well, goodbye, Beau.” Not knowing what to do in such close quarters, I stuck out my hand.
For a split second, with my hand extended in space, I looked down at it, horrified at my choice. I’d said goodbye to Beau then extended my hand for a handshake because I had no idea how to act in front of him with Fiona as a witness.
That was not how to act.
But it was too late.
Just as I was about to snatch my hand away and try to find a hole in the earth to jump into, Beau’s large, dry hand engulfed mine.
My body was shocked by the contact, the simple gesture people exchanged on a daily basis becoming a spectacle because of my awkwardness.
My neck burned as I quickly let go, mindful of Fiona’s gaze. I didn’t look at her, just crouched down, kissed Clara on the cheek, then hurried out the door.
Not subtle. Not casual. Not cool.
It wasn’t until we were in Fiona’s car and she was reversing out of the driveway that she spoke.
“Want to tell me why you shook Beau’s hand like he was your bank manager?” Fiona asked playfully.
“No.” I pursed my lips, embarrassment running through me like hot lava. "I do not."
Fiona was a no-bullshit type of person, from what I’d witnessed, so I half expected her to push it. I mean, it was an extraordinarily weird exchange to witness, so I wouldn’t have blamed her.
But she merely nodded. “Okay.”