But she wasn’t at the desk when I got to the inn—her mother was. That’s when I remembered that she didn’t work there on Fridays.
“Well, good morning,” Daphne Sawyer said, smiling at me as I approached carrying the roses. “And who’s the lucky lady?”
My stomach lurched, but I told the truth. “Um, they’re for Frannie, actually. She’s been so great with the kids, and she stayed late and made dinner yesterday … I just wanted to let her know I appreciate her.”
The smile widened. “How nice. She’s not working this morning, but she’s at home as far as I know. Why don’t you bring them to her?”
“Maybe I will, thanks.” I went back to my office, glad that Daphne didn’t seem upset or even all that surprised by the fact that I’d bought flowers for her daughter. Maybe Frannie was right, and her parents weren’t going to be shocked or angry about us.
When I got back to my office, I texted her.
Morning, beautiful. What are you up to?
My elbows in batter LOL. I have a lot of baking to do. Busy weekend. Events booked all three nights.
That’s right, it’s Presidents Weekend.
Inn sold out?
Yes.
Which meant she was totally busy and probably didn’t have time to fuck around with me, but I was dying to give her the roses and grab at least a few minutes alone with her. I decided I’d sneak up there at lunchtime.
However, I only made it until about nine-thirty before I couldn’t wait any longer and stealthily crept up the stairs to her apartment, hiding the bouquet behind my back.
When she answered the door, she looked surprised but happy. And fucking adorable—her hair was all piled on the top of her head in a big sloppy mess and she had a smudge of pink batter on her cheek.
“Hey,” she said, her smile bright. “What are you doing up here?”
“I brought you something.” I held out the flowers.
She gasped. “What’s this for?”
“For Valentine’s Day. For everything you do.” Unable to resist, I caught her around the waist and kissed her lips. She tasted sweet—like strawberries and cream.
“You didn’t have to do that. But thank you.” She glanced down at her T-shirt and sweatpants. “I wish I’d have known you were coming. I’m a mess.”
“You’re perfect.” I looked at her hair. “But I do think even I could do a better bun than that.”
Laughing, she swatted me on the chest. “Now you’re just getting cocky.”
“Oh, I’ve always been that.”
“Want to come in?” she asked. “Or do you have to get back to work?”
“I should get back,” I said reluctantly.
“Just for a few minutes?” She rose up on tiptoe.
Fuck, she was so cute. “Okay. A few minutes, but that’s really all I have. I’m meeting with your dad and DeSantis in half an hour.”
“I promise to kick you out by then.” Grinning, she stepped back and I entered her apartment, which smelled as good as she tasted.
“Let me grab a vase for these.” She set the flowers on the counter and pulled out the card. As she read it, her lips curved into a smile. “Awww. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s not much, but I wanted you to know I was thinking of you. And how lucky I am to have you in my life.”
“I feel the same.”
“Your mom saw me with the flowers and asked who they were for.”
Frannie’s jaw dropped. “What did you tell her?”
“The truth, actually.” And suddenly, I felt really good about it.
“You did?” She set the card down and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tight. “That makes me so happy!”
I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, lifting her right off her feet. “I’m glad.”
“Was my mother surprised?” Frannie asked.
“Not as much as I thought she would be. She seemed fine with it.”
“I told you.” Then she inhaled deeply. “Mmm. You smell good.”
“You smell good too. I could eat you right now.” Just for fun, I sank my teeth lightly into her throat.
Squealing, she tried to wiggle out of my arms, but I held on tight. I kept my mouth on her neck, licking and sucking and kissing her sweet-tasting skin, and then before I knew it, I was walking her backward into her bedroom, stripping off her clothes, and letting her pull at mine. Within minutes, I was buried inside her, her body pinned beneath mine on top of her quilt, her hands braced on the headboard so her head didn’t bang against it. It ended as quickly as it began, with both of us breathless and frantic, our bodies pulsing together in short, ecstatic bursts just as the oven timer went off in the kitchen.
Laughing as we recovered our senses, Frannie looked up at me. “Good timing.”
“Does that mean you have to get out of this bed?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I’ll come right back.”
Reluctantly, I let her slide out from underneath me. She hurried into the bathroom first, and then out to the kitchen, and a moment later the timer stopped beeping. I heard her open and shut the oven door, and then she darted back into her bedroom.
“I only have a few minutes,” she said, hopping back into the bed. “And so do you. What time is your meeting?”
I sat up. “Fuck! I forgot about that. What time is it now?”
“A few minutes to ten.”
“Shit!” I jumped out of bed and looked around for my pants. “My meeting is at ten.”
Frannie laughed as I frantically pulled my clothes on. “Sorry. I guess I was supposed to boot you out sooner.”
I gave her a dirty look as I struggled to get my second leg into my pants, hopping on one foot. “Yes. This is all your fault. If you hadn’t smelled so good or been so fucking cute when you answered the door, I’d have been on time for my meeting.”
She threw a pillow at me.
I zipped up my pants and tackled her, throwing her back onto the bed. “You’re asking for it.”
Giggling, she looped her arms and legs around me. “Hard and often.”
I groaned, giving her a quick kiss before detaching myself from her limbs. “Fuck, I have to go. I wish I didn’t.”
“Me too.” She sighed and sat up, watching me throw my shirt on. “It’s so nice to be alone with you again.”
“I’m sorry. I feel bad we can’t be like normal people and do this during non-working hours.”
“It’s okay.” She smiled. “It’s kind of fun to sneak around.”
“Except I’m late for a meeting with your dad right now,” I said, frowning at my freshly-fucked hair in the mirror over her dresser. “And I look like I just got out of bed.”
A couple minutes later, I raced out of her apartment with my boots untied, leaving her at the door in a fuzzy pink robe. “I’ll see you at home tonight,” she called, laughing as I stumbled down the first few stairs. “Thanks again for the flowers!”
“You’re welcome!” I shouted back, skipping the final few steps and jumping down to the landing. As I hurried back to my office, her words stuck in my head. I’ll see you at home tonight.
I liked them.
Mack
That night when I got home, we ordered pizza and Frannie stayed to watch a movie with us. We sat next to each other on the couch and copped a few PG-13 feels beneath the blanket, but that was about it. I couldn’t even kiss her goodbye because I felt like the kids were watching us so closely. Maybe it was in my head, but Millie especially seemed to be looking at us a lot that night.
On Saturday, I didn’t see her at all, and I hardly heard from her—just a short text in the morning saying they were swamped at the inn and wishing me a good day, accompanied by a little red heart. And it was a pretty good day—I got Millie to ballet on time for once, grocery shopped, cleaned the house, caught up on some work, and washed everyone’s sheets and towels. But I thought of her non-stop, and I rea
lized as the day went on how much I missed her. Like physically missed her. I had Monday off, and knowing that I wouldn’t see her until Tuesday put a dull ache in my chest.
That night, I took the kids out for dinner. We had just been seated at the table when Felicity said out of nowhere, “I miss Frannie.”
“Me too,” said Winnie. “I wish she was here.”
“Can we call her, Dad?” Millie asked.
I cleared my throat. “No, she’s working tonight. We’ll see her next week.”
“Maybe she could come over tomorrow and do braids again,” Winnie said.
“And help me with my shirts,” added Millie, reaching into her coat pocket for her phone. “I’ll text her.”
“No, don’t do that.” I put a hand on Millie’s arm to stop her, as if I wasn’t dying to see Frannie myself. “Let’s let her have the weekend to herself, okay? She’s probably tired of us.”
I didn’t really think she was, but even if she wasn’t busy tomorrow, it was getting too hard to keep our feelings a secret from the girls when we were together. I couldn’t fucking keep my hands to myself. And I just wasn’t ready to tell them yet—it was too soon. Plus, it was making me kind of uneasy that I missed her this way. I didn’t want to miss her. The whole point of this thing was to have some fun, to feel like my old self again, at least for a little while. Right?
But later, as I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t resist calling her. She didn’t answer, and I didn’t leave a message.
A few minutes later, she called me back. “Hi. Sorry I missed you. Chloe needed help tonight, so I’m pouring wine at this stupid corporate thing in the tasting room.”
“Guess that means you’re not going to talk dirty to me.”
She laughed. “Probably not. Might be awkward. How was your day?”
“Good. Nothing too exciting.” I filled her in on the details. “The girls missed you at dinner. They wanted to call you.”
“Awww. I’m sorry. This weekend is crazy here.”
“I know. I told them you had to work.” I hesitated, torn between admitting I missed her too and not wanting to say the words out loud, as if leaving them unsaid would make them less true. “I should let you go.”
“Okay. Give me a call tomorrow if you can?”
“I will,” I said.
But I didn’t.
My mother called on Sunday night. Felicity answered the kitchen phone, and from where I was standing at the dining room table folding laundry, I heard her excitedly retelling the story of Winnie’s tumble down Aunt Jodie’s basement stairs last weekend. This infuriated Winnie, who could hear her sister from where she sat at the counter having a snack.
Eventually, each granddaughter took her turn talking to Grandma, and I managed to finish folding their laundry, put it away upstairs, and get the dishwasher started. Millie was the last to chat, and I heard her telling my mom about the fashion show.
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be mother-daughter, but they said Daddy can participate.” Then she laughed. “We have to make our own outfits. Frannie is helping me.”
Inwardly groaning at the thought of having to wear that fucking glittery T-shirt in public, I wiped off the counters and swept the kitchen floor.
“Okay. I love you too. Bye.” Millie handed the phone to me. “Can I have a little screen time?” she asked.
“Shower first.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
I tugged one of her braids and put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetie. How are you?”
“Good. Busy. You?”
“Great. We’re excited for our visit.”
“We are too.” It wasn’t a total lie, although my mother could be a bit overbearing at times. And there was no situation where she didn’t feel compelled to voice her opinion. I leaned back against the counter. “You arrive tomorrow?”
“Yes. We’ll stay at Jodie’s for two nights, then we’ll drive down to you for three. Does that still work?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect. The wedding isn’t until Saturday, but I have the rehearsal Friday, and I’m supposed to spend some time with Woods on Thursday night.”
“And who’s the bride? Do I know her?”
“She’s Ruth Gardner’s granddaughter. Lives in Detroit.”
My mother clucked her tongue. “Oh, I just love Ruthie Gardner. How is she?”
“She’s fine.”
“And what about you? The girls told me it was quite a week. Poor Winnie!”
I sighed. “Yeah.”
“They all talked a lot about Frannie.”
At the mention of her name, my stomach flipped over. “Yes. She’s been helping out a lot. She’s great with them.”
“Sounds like they adore her.”
“They do.”
“And it seems like she spends a lot of time with them.”
Was I imagining it, or was there a note of suspicion in my mother’s tone? It made me feel a little defensive. “Well, Miriam Ingersoll broke her leg a couple weeks ago, so Frannie had to fill in. They saw a little more of her than usual.”
My mother gasped. “Oh, no! Poor Miriam. Thank goodness you had extra help.” Her voice grew curious again. “I hear Frannie is doing more than just babysitting at your house.”
I almost choked. “What? Who said that?”
“Felicity said she’s been cooking dinner.”
“Oh.” I relaxed a little. “Yeah. Sometimes, if I work late.”
“That’s awfully nice of her.”
“She likes to cook for people,” I said, feeling defensive again. “And she lives alone, so she doesn’t get to do it very often.”
“How old is Frannie now? Last time I saw her, she was probably close to Millie’s age.”
“Twenty-seven.”
“And you said she lives alone?”
“Yes.” Suddenly I knew where this was going.
“Is she attractive?”
“Mom.”
“What? I’m just trying to picture her,” she said innocently.
I exhaled. Counted to three. “Yes. She’s a pretty girl.”
“Is there something going on between you two?”
“Jesus, Mom!”
“I’m only asking because I think you need to be very careful. The girls have been through so much and it could be confusing and hurtful for them to see you with another woman so soon.”
“I know.”
“I’m not saying you have to be alone for the rest of your life, but they’re just so young, and they’ve still got to be traumatized about their mom running off with another man. Deep down they’re probably afraid of losing you that way too. You want them to feel one hundred and ten percent certain they are the most important people in your life.”
“They do,” I snapped. “I don’t need to be told this.”
“And maybe it would be best not to take up with their beloved nanny,” she went on. “I mean, what happens if you two have a fight and she quits? Then the girls lose her too.”
“And it would be my fault. I get it.”
“I’m not blaming you for anything, darling. I know how hard this has been for you, and I feel awful we’re not there more often to help you out. But the extreme cold is bad for Daddy’s blood pressure.”
“We’re fine, Mom. I’m managing.”
“Of course you are. You’re a wonderful father, and I know you love those girls to pieces. But I also know you must be lonely too, and with a pretty young girl around so much, I can see how tempting it would be to … take advantage of the situation.”
“I’m not taking advantage of anything!” I yelled.
“Okay, okay. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just want to make certain the kids are protected.”
I closed my eyes, my jaw clenched hard. I knew she meant well, but I was about to lose my shit. Did she think I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation? Did she think I took this lightly? “The kids are my number one priority, Mom. They always have been. And t
hey’ll stay that way no matter what.”
“Good. Well, I’ll see you Thursday then, dear.”
“Have a safe trip.” I hung up and stood there fuming for a moment, wishing I had a heavy punching bag in the house so I could hit something as hard as I wanted to. I wished I had a motorcycle I could take off on for days. I wished I could down half a bottle of whiskey and drown out my feelings.
But I couldn’t do any of those things, because the kids were upstairs waiting for me to put them to bed, and that’s the guy I had to be.
Every. Single. Night.
Later I was lying in bed, my mother’s words weighing heavily on me, when my phone buzzed again. It was fucking Carla. I should have ignored it, but I sort of felt like punishing myself.
“Hello?”
“Who’s Frannie?”
“What?”
“Frannie. Millie texted me all weekend about Frannie this and Frannie that. Who is she?” From the way Carla was slurring her words, I knew she’d been drinking.
“Frannie Sawyer. From Cloverleigh. She babysits for them.”
“Is she my replacement?”
“I’m hanging up, Carla. You’re drunk.”
“Are you fucking her?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t. I’m their mother. How dare you bring some little slut into the house? How old is she, twenty-two?”
“Twenty-seven,” I said before I could help it.
She squawked with laughter. “Well, I get why you’re chasing her around, but what the hell does she want with you? Does she think you have money or something?”
My jaw clenched. “She knows who I am.”
“Oh, so she’s a mind reader? Because you never told me who you were. And why does Millie think she’s so great?”
“Because she’s here,” I said angrily. “And she cares about them. She gives them love and attention, which is more than they get from you.”
“I’m their mother. They’re supposed to love me no matter what.”
Irresistible: Cloverleigh Farms Standalone Page 17