“Of course. Is everything okay?” It was a stupid question, he knew. Of course it wasn't okay. He knew he was barely holding it together for his niece. The fact that she'd been sent to live with him after Colby died—Vane still couldn't believe his cousin's cancer had progressed that quickly—had been a surprise to them both. Fatherhood was not something that came easily to him, and he was piling up mistake after mistake. He cleared his throat. “If you're going to bring up me putting her in private school again, I've already been over this.”
Miss Stewart leaned across her desk. Wait, was she a Miss? Or a Mrs.? Or Ms.? Dammit, he could never remember. He snuck a glance at her left hand. Miss or Ms., then. Cool. Very, very cool.
Miss Stewart clasped her hands together “No, that's not why I asked you here at all.” Vane looked out the window rather than give in to the temptation to sneak a peek at her pretty spectacular cleavage. “The end of the school year trip is this Wednesday, and I know that Annabelle really wants to go.” Her smile seemed genuine enough, but Vane still bristled. “But you haven't signed the permission slip yet.”
“I know. That's on purpose.”
She sighed. “Well, I called you in to see if I can allay any fears you might have about the trip. It's fully supervised, with one adult for every five kids. We're not going far, just to the amusement park, and dinner will be provided. The teachers take turns grilling—it's really quite an event.”
“I'm sure it's fine,” Vane interrupted with a sigh. Dammit, it felt like he was always saying no when it came to Annabelle. “But Annabelle can't go because I've had a renovation come up at the last minute.”
Her eyebrows arched up. “That's right. You're an architect, correct?”
He nodded. “I'm renovating a historic property, and a contractor just became available last minute. It's a tight timeframe given the season, so we need to start ASAP. Annabelle and I will be headed there first thing Wednesday morning.”
She ran her tongue along her teeth, a move that Vane knew wasn't meant to be sexy but seemed all the more so for how unconscious it was. “I can appreciate you're in a bind with your work and all that, Mr. McClellan—”
“Vane. Please call me Vane, Miss Stewart. Ms.”
She wrinkled her nose adorably. “Maggie, then. Okay, Vane, like I said, I understand your time crunch. But Annabelle only just started with us here at Fairlawn. She was so shy in the beginning, it's been really wonderful to see her blossom and make friends.”
Vane gripped his knees. Every word she said sent a stab of guilt through him. “Is that true? Because from the sound of the notes you send home, everything is terrible.”
Maggie pursed her lips. “Those notes are meant to pass on information. Not judgment.”
“Could have fooled me,” he snapped.
She narrowed her eyes. “We're on the same side here, Mr....Vane. We both want what's best for Annabelle.”
“Right. And as her guardian, I'm trying to do exactly that.”
She kept talking right over him. “And I feel like denying her the closure of this trip, a chance to say goodbye to her friends before you move her to a new school?” She spread her hands in a gesture of surrender.
Vane turned away. A chance to say goodbye. Closure. These were words that were brought up nearly every time he talked with another adult about Annabelle. Her doctor. Her nanny. Her therapist. His brother when Vane balked at the idea of Colby having an open casket funeral. “She needs to have closure and a chance to say goodbye.” He'd been bending over backwards to give her that for the past nine months, and it still didn't feel like enough. When would he stop feeling like he was failing her in every way?
“Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk here,” he told Maggie, even though he was pretty sure she thought he was a jerk any way. “It's a matter of bad timing. That's it.”
He tried for a smile. It probably looked like he was grimacing, he realized. Or baring his teeth. He was at the end of his rope, and he looked like it. Every glance in the mirror confirmed it. Bags under his eyes. A haunted look. Maggie probably thought this was just a vanity project for him. Billionaire architect can't stop working long enough to make a little child happy; he knew how this script went. But the truth was, he and Annabelle both needed this renovation. It wasn't just a historic property, it was the McClellan beach house, where he'd made his happiest childhood memories. It was quiet, away from the stress of the city and the demands of his job. He and Annabelle could connect there, he hoped. Maybe she could start making some happy childhood memories of her own.
“Is that it then?” he asked Maggie, making to rise from his seat. “Are we all squared up on why Annabelle isn't going on the trip?”
“You can't push out your plans just one day?”
“I need to be there to greet the contractor when he arrives. It's just not possible.” He unfolded himself and extended his hand without looking at her. “Thank you for your concern though—”
She gabbed his hand and yanked it towards her hard enough to knock him off balance. Startled, he glanced at her face. Her eyes were wide, blazing at him with such fierce intensity that it unnerved him. Up to this point, she'd just been another pretty face, but now he could see the fiery passions that burned under her bubbly exterior.
“What if I bring her to you?” she asked, in a wholly different tone of voice than the perky teacher-speak from before. “She trusts me. We have a bond. What if after the trip, I drive her to meet you?”
“You would do that?”
She nodded. “Of course. I love Annabelle. I'd be happy to help.”
Vane could hardly believe what he was hearing. Maggie was one of those people who let their emotions blaze out from their faces. The naked honesty he saw in her eyes made his head spin. “There's a storm,” he warned, gently pulling his hand from hers. “Supposed to be coming up the coast that night.”
“Oh, they like to hype those up, but they never amount to much.” She nodded slowly at first, then faster. “Yes, this will totally work!” she cried, clapping her hands together. “What do you say?”
Are you for real? That's what Vane wanted to say. Are you real? Nobody should be this excited about playing chauffeur. Nobody should look like the idea of driving up the coast in a storm was the start of a grand adventure.
But Maggie's eyes were shining, and Vane already felt like he'd been enough of a negative jerk for one day. “Okay, well, thank you,” he said, ignoring the warning twist in his gut. “I know Annabelle wants to go on this trip, and she does trust you.”
“Do you trust me?” She cocked her head to the side as she looked at him quizzically.
To his surprise, he nodded. “I do. You're her teacher. Plus,” he chuckled. “I know where you work.”
She laughed. “Not for long. Wednesday is my last day here, too.”
“Is that right?” Now that it was decided, Vane wanted nothing more than to slip away while it was still going well. “How about that.”
“I start a new job in the fall.” Her lips twisted into a grimace. “Teaching in rural Alaska. A five-year post.”
“Nice. Stability is good.”
She laughed. “So they say. But I've never stayed in one place for that long.”
“Really?” That sounded awful.
She shrugged and then smiled brightly. “So that'll be an adventure, right? Trying something new and all.”
Vane blew out a long sigh. “Sure,” he said dully. No, thank you. Every day since he'd found himself awkwardly driving a sullen Annabelle back to his house had been an adventure. He was frankly sick of it. Screw trying new things. He'd give everything for things to just stay the same for a while.
2
“Oh, I love this song!” Annabelle squealed from the back seat of Maggie's car. “I know all the words too!”
“Let's hear them then!” Maggie laughed as she turned up the volume. The preteen raised her voice into a keening falsetto to mimic the pop diva's vocal acrobatics. “Never gonna love a brother�
�”
“Another, sweetheart. She's saying she's never going to love another.”
She glanced in the rearview mirror to see Annabelle furrowing her brow thoughtfully. The little girl was at that strange stage that Maggie loved most about teaching fourth grade. She was still a child, with her fine, sandy brown hair, rosy cheeks, and the faint ghost of dimples, but her face held hints of the person she was growing into. The serious, straight brows, the nose just a touch too big for her face. Girls her age were wild things, always ready for an adventure, and Maggie felt she understood them better than she did most adults.
“I don't get it," she complained.
“Never mind. You will when you're older. Now come on! Keep singing, you have such a pretty voice!”
Annabelle looked delighted and obediently raised her voice again. It felt good to hear her sing, Maggie thought. It had felt good to see her smile and laugh and hug all her friends today, too.
“I can't believe you're not exhausted,” she told her as they sped up the coast to the address Vane had given her. “You did so much today.”
“I know, but I'm not even tired.” She yawned, and Maggie hid her laughter behind her hand. “I'm so wired, I bet I'm going to be up past midnight. Uncle Vane is gonna freak.”
“Freak, huh?” Maggie drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “What does he say when he freaks, exactly?”
“He says, 'You need your sleep, you're still growing.'“ She dropped her voice and waggled her finger in imitation. “‘You won't have a good day tomorrow if you don't get go to sleep right now.’”
Maggie laughed. “That doesn't sound like freaking to me, Annabelle. It sounds like he's worried about you having a good day.”
“I gu-essss.” She harrumphed and turned to the window. Maggie watched her for a second, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for.
It had seemed like the most brilliant idea she'd ever had to offer to bring Annabelle to the beach house after the trip. Mr. McClellan had looked so tired and so unhappy in her classroom, and she'd never been able to resist putting a smile on people's faces. Offering to help him had been automatic. She was sure he'd smile and be relieved, maybe even grateful.
Instead, he'd just sighed and agreed, scrawled his signature on the permission slip, then left her classroom. Maggie chewed the inside of her cheek. The embarrassment was just as fresh now as it had been at their meeting. Once again, she'd read him completely wrong.
She'd never had this problem before. It had always been easy to make people like her. And Vane McClellan, with those sharp cheekbones and dark, brooding eyes, was someone she really wanted to like her. Maybe more than just like, if she was being truthful with herself.
It would be nice if she and Vane could have at least one encounter where she didn't feel like she was attacking him. That was another reason she'd offered to do this. For the sake of her sanity, she needed to have one encounter with Vane McClellan that didn't end with him getting defensive. Up to now, every phone call, every note home, every email, and now even their face-to-face meeting had been so confrontational.
The fact that he seemed to regard her as an adversary was confusing. And frankly maddening. And she needed to fix it.
“It's gonna storm,” Annabelle announced from the back seat, sounding worried.
“There's no reason to be scared,” Maggie soothed. “It won't hurt you.”
“I know it won't hurt me.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “I just don't like them. I hate loud noises.”
“Me, too.” Maggie grimaced at the dark clouds boiling up in the western sky. They'd stolen the last of the light that clung to the horizon, and night was closing in fast. She nudged the accelerator down a fraction.
“My nanny isn't gonna be there,” Annabelle reported, changing the subject on a dime the way only a kid could. “Uncle Vane said you said she was nice, but she wasn't.”
Maggie gripped the steering wheel tighter to keep from swerving off the road. “You mean Helen?” Vane had emailed her last month asking for a list of recommendations for a new nanny for Annabelle. “I thought she was nice.” A lot nicer than the drill sergeant Vane had originally hired, anyway. Maggie still had to hide her laughter when Annabelle referred to her as Stompy McSnitface.
“I guess she was,” Annabelle said airily. “But I didn't want her to watch me so I scared her away.”
Maggie swallowed hard. “Annabelle,” she intoned in her best teacher voice. “What did you do?”
“I put a frog in her bed!” She burst into peals of laughter. “She screamed so loud, just like in that movie! It was classic!”
“It wasn't classic, it was mean, Annabelle. I expected better from you.”
She looked in the rearview again. Annabelle was scowling fiercely. “I don't want a nanny,” she declared and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Oh boy,” Maggie whispered under her breath. Poor Helen. She was a lovely woman. Maybe that was the problem, she was too kind- hearted.
She hoped whoever Vane hired next had more grit. And didn't mind the occasional rogue amphibian.
* * *
She didn't know what she'd been expecting. When Vane had said “historic home,” she'd pictured a sprawling manor house straight out of Downton Abbey. Then he'd said “beach house,” and she pictured a tumble-down cottage sand-blasted by storms. It was neither of those.
“This is your Uncle Vane's beach house?” she asked Annabelle.
The ten-year-old shrugged sleepily. “I think so. Uncle Vane says I came here when I was four, but I don't remember. It looks like a gingerbread house.”
Maggie slowed to turn into the circular drive. “It definitely does,” she agreed, taking in the stately Victorian home in front of her. From the ornately carved trim to the wide, welcoming front porch, it radiated expensive, yet restrained taste. It was also surprisingly modest in size. Certainly not a palatial estate befitting a billionaire of Vane's means. It was almost... homey.
She found herself smiling as she put the car in park. It reminded her keenly of one of the places she and her mother had stayed. Winters in beachside towns were always quiet, and that particular winter, Maggie's only source of entertainment had been to follow the owner of the bed and breakfast around as he made his repairs before the season started. She'd shared his lunch of peanut butter and jelly—something she'd never had before thanks to her mother's adherence to a macrobiotic diet—on a porch a lot like this one. Then, with her belly full of forbidden white bread and allergens, she'd asked one question after another until the owner had relented and gotten her a kid-sized toolbox of her own. She'd learned everything she could about home repair that season, preparing, in her little-kid mind, for the day she and her mom would stop moving around so much and settle down in a place just like that one.
They'd never settled down, of course. And, Maggie told herself, it was for the best. She was the kind of person who needed to keep moving.
Annabelle needed stability, though. Maggie still wasn't sure spending the summer in a strange house was the best idea for her. But her apprehensions scattered when she saw the porch light switch on and Vane step out onto the porch.
He was tall, with the broad shoulders and long, loose build of a swimmer. Seeing him fold his massive frame into a child-sized desk in her classroom had made her feel as off kilter as the deep green fire of his gaze. He was all intensity; even the way he stood on the porch now, with his feet planted hip-width apart and his muscular forearms crossed over his broad chest, gave Maggie a feeling of deliberateness. Vane McClellan felt... permanent. Solid, real, and intense. Even his smile, and the deeply carved groove of a dimple on his left cheek, gave off the sense that he'd chosen to bestow it on her. And that it was an honor not too many people received.
Maggie's mouth went dry. She tore her gaze away from him, aware she'd been staring much too long. “There's your Uncle Vane!” she crowed to Annabelle. A fat raindrop smacked her in the back as she hurried around the side door to
stand with the girl. “Are you going to say hi?'
“She doesn't need to,” Vane said. Maggie startled to have him suddenly so close. “Did you have fun?”
Maggie blushed and was about to stammer out an answer when she realized he was talking to Annabelle. And blushed even harder.
“Yeah!” Annabelle sighed, accepting his shoulder pat with a wry smile. “I rode the roller coaster six times in a row and almost barfed.” She looked up at Vane, as if waiting for him to react in shock.
He clutched dramatically at his heart. “You're way braver than I am.”
Annabelle nodded as if that was just a given. “I know, Uncle Vane. Your shirt is getting all wet, by the way.” With that she hurried into the house.
Maggie giggled. “She does have keen powers of observation. Oh!” A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, echoing off the water.
“Come in,” Vane urged as the rain began to fall in earnest.
Maggie bit her lip. “I should be getting back on the road.” She glanced back towards the house, and then at Annabelle, who lingered in the safety of the doorway. Maggie bounced on her toes fretfully. Leaving was harder than she'd thought it would be. “So, you're spending the summer here together? Annabelle told me about what happened with Helen. Have you found a new nanny yet?”
Vane pressed his lips together in a tight grimace. A raindrop dripped down the end of his nose, and he flicked it away, irritated. “Not yet.”
Curiosity got the better of Maggie, and she hurriedly followed him into the house. She squeezed the water from the ends of her hair as another clap of thunder made the house shake. "Do you need another recommendation?" she pressed Vane. It felt vitally important that she not leave until she knew Annabelle was set for the summer.
McClellan Billionaires: The Complete Series Page 21