by Kate Aster
I’ll bet five hundred dollars on it.
Chapter 5
- CAMDEN -
Barely more than three hours after Annie arrived, I find myself backing out of Stella’s doorway, watching the little girl’s eyes flicker shut and knowing instinctively she’ll drift to sleep in less than a minute.
Not that I have much instinct when it comes to kids, as I’ve certainly proven tonight.
Stella is exhausted, her brain still tricked into thinking it’s midnight right now, not eighteen hundred hours like it is here in Hawai‘i. Watching her for a moment, the slow rise and fall of the bedsheet over her as her breathing slows, I feel a sense of relief that I haven’t before, as if the simple task of calming a child somehow sets my corner of the world to rights again.
Except that I’m not the one who did this. That was 100 percent Annie.
Shutting the door most of the way, I whisper to Annie, “How did you get so good with kids?”
“A set of triplets lived across the street from me growing up,” she answers with a slight grin. “It was a great score for a kid who wanted to babysit.”
Her smile doesn’t seem to match the rest of her. It’s bright and clear, like a beacon, while the rest of her seems designed to fade into the background. Her hair is pulled into a loose, nondescript ponytail and her gaze on me is shrouded by smudges on her slightly cat-eye shaped glasses. Lose the ponytail and glasses, and I probably couldn’t even pick her out of a line-up, as unmemorable as she looks in her plain blue t-shirt and shorts.
But right now, Annie looks like a goddess to me.
“I’ll be right back,” I say before disappearing momentarily up the stairs to my room to retrieve my checkbook. I don’t want her thinking for a moment that I’ll renege on my offer. Okay, so five hundred dollars was a little on the overzealous side. But everything costs a fortune on this island; even a flight with my brother costs upwards of five Benjamins, and these past three hours with Annie have been worth a lot more to me than some damn trip in a helicopter.
She’s biting her lip awkwardly when I return to the kitchen counter.
“Do I just make it out to Annie’s Keiki Care, like on your flier?” I ask.
Her weight shifts from one foot to the other. “Um, no. Just make it out to my name. Annie—Bradshaw.”
She looks strangely wary as she says it, as if she’s a honeymooner still trying on her married name.
“Look, I really don’t feel right holding you to the offer,” she adds quickly. “It’s not a big deal if you want to pay me my normal rate.”
“When I make an offer, I stick by it, even when it’s said in a moment of extreme duress.” I chuckle quietly. “I thought Stella was going to stay in her room forever.”
“How long is she staying here?”
I talk as I fill out the check. “Her grandmother just had hip surgery so couldn’t take her right away. But once she heals up, I guess Stella will go stay with her.”
I’m both relieved and annoyed by that thought. I don’t like the idea of not being able to handle this. I don’t like failing or needing reinforcements. “Her dad says it won’t be more than a month or so. Says his mom is a pretty strong lady. But my brother says it could be longer. He’s a doctor, so I’m kind of bracing myself for the worst.”
“Helps to have a doctor in the family when you have a kid, I imagine.”
I shrug. “Dodger’s been pretty useless so far. But he’s at work a lot. He started an urgent care facility off Mauna Lani Drive. You know, one of those places that stays open past midnight.”
“Oh, I’ve seen that one. He lives with you?”
“Yeah. And my other brother. Fen gives helicopter tours, so works some pretty strange hours, too.”
“And what do you do?” she asks. “Other than take in kids, that is?”
“I’m a bartender at the Dancing Coconut.” Why do I always feel like a moron saying that name? “It’s over on A-Bay.”
“Yeah, I know the place. That fits you.”
My eyes widen. “You think?”
“Yeah. You’re really friendly. Easy going. I’d be a terrible bartender,” she adds.
“Why?”
“I’m good with kids, but a little skittish with adults.”
“Really?” I try to sound surprised. But in truth, I could see that about her from the moment I found her, palms plastered against the pavement. Not to sound cocky, but most women want to prolong conversations with me, rather than bolt away like I’ve got the plague.
Unless she’s got a boyfriend.
I feel a frown threaten. Why does that thought somehow irk me? It’s not like she’s really my type. She’s more like a sparrow to the peacocks I usually date.
With a quick nod, she bites her lip as I extend the check to her. She looks at it as though she’s starving and I’ve just handed her a triple cheeseburger with a side of fries. How much are they paying her at the Queen K, I wonder?
“I guess I am a people person,” I tell her, for some reason wanting to keep our conversation going. “I do it just to get out of the house, actually. Most of my income comes from a website I started when I was in the military.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It helps find military-friendly housing for families.”
“Military-friendly housing?” she parrots as a lock of hair escapes her ponytail. I have to school my fingers to not reach for it just to set it back into place. When the light isn’t reflecting off the smudges on her glasses, I get a glimpse of her eyes, and they’re the type that stop a man in his tracks—light blue with a darker azure outline.
“Yeah. We had to move around a lot. Back when I was in, I had a lot of trouble finding places that didn’t get mad when I needed to break my lease on short notice when the government would move me someplace else. I do a good business in advertising on the site now.” I have to hold myself back from throwing some numbers her way, puzzled by this desire to impress her. It would be smarter if she thinks I am dirt poor so she won’t upcharge me for babysitting Stella.
“That’s great. Good for you.”
“I could help you set up a website for yourself if you like.”
“Oh—no. Like I said, I’m on a budget.”
“I can do it for free and there are plenty of ways you can have it hosted for next to nothing.”
She fidgets with the check. “I’m just—not too interested in getting business that way. Thanks, though.”
I hear my brother’s keys jingling outside the door and glance at my watch. I’m annoyed somehow by the intrusion even though Annie looks relieved by it; I find myself curious about this babysitter, and not just because she saved my ass tonight. People usually come to this island with a story to tell—myself included, I guess—and I’m wondering if I can pull hers out of her anytime soon. As a bartender, I like to think I’m a pro at that. But Annie looks like a tough nut to crack.
“Hey,” I say when I see both my brothers stride through the door. Both at once? This is like a baptism by fire for Annie.
Dodger’s eyes dart from me to Annie, then back to me again.
“You’ve had the kid here for—what?—less than a day, and you already brought a date home? Seriously?” His tone is accusing.
“I’m not a date,” she corrects my brother. “I’m a babysitter.”
Giving Dodger a lethal stare, I tilt my head. “Annie, these are my brothers, Dodger and Fen. Guys, this is Annie. She kind of saved me tonight.”
“Oh, does this mean you got Stella to come out of her room?” Fen eyes her hopefully. Even Fen seemed a little worried about the kid before he left for work.
“I didn’t. Annie did. Lured her out with homemade cookies.”
Dodger nods gravely. “I should have thought of that,” he says as if chocolate chip cookies were something he might prescribe for a patient. “I like her. Cam, you might be an inadequate guardian for Stella, but you’ve picked out a hell of a babysitter.”
“We’ve got some
extras on the counter,” she tells him, and I want to lunge between him and the cookies because I know they’ll disappear within five minutes now that they are home. Fen and Dodger have no control around sweets, which was why I had to inventory and hide all my Halloween candy as a kid.
“Listen, Annie, before you leave, I’d really like to get on your schedule for the next few weeks,” I tell her. “I’m hoping maybe you could fit Stella in sometimes. I’ve got her enrolled in a preschool during the weekdays, but I’ll still need to do a few night shifts at the bar.”
“I’ll text you my schedule. I’m not too busy.”
“Great. Thanks. And thanks again for coming on such short notice. Or no notice, really.”
She brightens. “Thanks for giving me the best tip of my life.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do,” I reply.
“He does,” Fen adds, his smile way too flirtatious for my liking. “Our mother would disown him if he didn’t.”
She laughs awkwardly and heads out the door, glancing over her shoulder as if she was hoping I’d stay put. Of course I don’t. Fen wasn’t kidding about my mother.
I turn my eyes upward as we step outside to the dimly lit parking lot. The Milky Way is spread across the sky like a soft white haze. I can never get enough of the sight of it.
“So, how long have you lived on the Big Island?” I ask, even though her pale skin already tells me she hasn’t been here long.
“A couple months. I nannied here before, though, for a couple years after high school until the family moved back to Japan.”
“You went back to the mainland then?”
“Mmhm.”
“Why’d you go back?”
“College,” she says briefly.
“And why’d you return here?”
“Who wouldn’t?” she volleys the question back to me, evasive as ever. But she does have a point.
I open my mouth to ask her another question when she cuts me off with—“Can I give you a little advice about Stella?”
Cringing, I inwardly brace myself to find out how I’ve completely ruined the poor kid within twenty-four hours of her arrival. “I’d actually appreciate any advice you’ve got.”
She halts her stride in front of a sorry-looking hatchback and leans against its door. As she digs for keys in her purse, my eyes track across the weather-beaten car, seriously tempted to start her a GoFundMe page to replace it.
“You need to have fun with her,” she tells me.
“Fun?”
“Yeah. She’s just starting to warm up to you. But you have to stop being so terrified you’re going to screw her up.”
Oh my god. She’s a freakin’ mind reader.
“You’re not going to, you know,” Annie continues. “Kids are pretty resilient. You—and your brothers, too—you give off the vibes that having a kid in your house is the last thing you want.”
It is the last thing we want. Every time the phone rings, there’s a part of me that hopes it’s Stella’s grandma calling from Pennsylvania to say that her hip is all better and she can take Stella. But I decide to not state the obvious.
“You love this island, right?”
“Who wouldn’t?” I throw her own words back at her.
“So show it off to her. Kids can be fun if you let them be. They make you experience things through their eyes. When was the last time you built a sandcastle?”
I must look perplexed. “I was—eight or nine, I guess.” I can remember it then, on the beach in Destin, Florida, with my brothers. The castle looked more like a three-foot-high anthill, lacking any architectural features. But we had a blast building it and then waiting for the tide to reclaim it.
“It was fun?”
I smile, feeling lost in a memory. “Yeah. It was.”
“But you stopped building sandcastles because that was kid stuff, right?”
“Guess so.”
“It’s still fun,” she advises me. “And having a kid around lets you do it again.”
My head tilts slightly. “So is that why you do it? Babysit, I mean. So you can build sandcastles?”
“Maybe. And I like kids. I majored in early childhood education in college.” Her face warms in the low light, and I notice the shape of her lips is very nearly perfect—the kind of shape I see women try to draw on with lipstick. Yet those subtle curves come naturally for her—moist and plump and I can’t help thinking how they’d feel against my…
Holy fuck. She’s the babysitter, I remind myself. What kind of a player am I?
“Why aren’t you teaching then?” I force the question.
Her smile dissipates. “I just graduated recently. Besides, teacher jobs aren’t that common on the island. And I’m happier here right now.”
I can’t blame her for that. I’m happier here, too.
She steps to the side and reaches for her door handle. I reach for it at the same time; I open doors for women as automatically as I walk them to their cars, making me something of a curiosity for a guy on the cusp of thirty.
My hand inadvertently caresses hers for a moment, and I feel a charge, as though there is something beneath her skin that I can’t see, but can only sense.
As I open the door for her and watch her slide in, I’m tempted to offer her a roll of duct tape to hold her car together. Or better yet, call her an Uber. “Text me that schedule when you get home, okay?” I remind her, more because I want to make sure she gets home safely than anything else.
She offers me an uneasy smile. “I will. Thanks again for the work. I—uh—hope you’ll need me again soon.”
Her car rattles as she slams the door.
She hopes I’ll need her again soon? Was she not paying attention the past three hours?
I walk back into the house, careful to shut the door quietly behind me to not wake Stella.
My brothers greet me. Dodger’s got his arms crossed in front of his chest and Fen’s eyebrows are hiked up an inch on his brow.
“Thanks for the best tip of my life?” Dodger greets me with her words from a few minutes ago. “I hope she means money, bro.”
“Of course,” I answer.
“I’m serious. No making a play for her.”
I bristle. “I wasn’t planning on it. And the same goes for you two.”
Fen’s spine straightens. “Why can’t I date her? She’s not babysitting my kid.”
“Stella’s not my kid either,” I remind him.
“Don’t do it, Cam,” Dodger warns. “She looks too sweet for a guy like you.”
“A guy like me?” I know what he means by it. And I hate that I do.
“Yeah. Two weeks is a miracle for you. And you need her for longer than that.”
Like I need to be reminded.
“She’s not my type,” I tell him. I don’t mean it in an insulting way to Annie. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s a compliment. She spikes my curiosity—her smile, her wariness, and her unbelievable way with Stella. I’m more attracted to shallow girls—girls without any mystery that I need to unravel—generally tourists looking to have a fling in paradise with the guy who serves them the best damn margarita of their lives.
I keep my life simple here on the Big Island. And simple girls fit me nicely.
Yet as I quietly stalk back to my bedroom, I can’t help seeing Annie’s face in my mind’s eye as I tug off my shirt and shorts and slide into bed. I can’t quite shake off the feeling that I’ve seen her before.
In fact, I’d almost bet on it.
Chapter 6
~ ANNIE ~
Escaping into the luxurious bathrooms at the Queen K—the kind with tiny, soft hand linens for drying rather than paper towels—I pull my phone out of my pocket and glance at the display.
No reply.
Still no reply.
I slide my phone into my back pocket again. I’d texted Cam my schedule the moment I got home last night. Tired of eating
whatever canned spaghetti shaped like cartoon characters happens to be on sale at Walmart (because yes, we really do have a Walmart on the island), I could really use a regular customer. But as the minutes tick away on my morning, I’m feeling less confident that he’ll ever want me back.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I work with kids all day, so certain words are stripped from my verbal lexicon. But they are still there in my mind, festering like a cold that wants to burst from me in a nasty sneeze of expletives.
Damn it all; I knew better.
Last night, with the stars twinkling above us, I felt transformed somehow. Powerful, even, with more money in my pocket than I’ve had in ages. Something about being needed by a guy who could snap a surfboard over his knee made me feel less like a victim. If those stars hadn’t been out—if they hadn’t made me feel as though I wasn’t a girl hiding out from her life—I swear I would have remembered my place and kept my mouth shut.
People don’t like advice on child-rearing from a babysitter. Period.
That’s one of the first things I learned in this business. They’ll trust me to raise their offspring, but they won’t trust me enough to want my insights—no matter how much time I spend with their kids.
I guess I thought differently about Cam. He’s not a parent, and he seemed so out of his element with a kid in his house.
Cam needed that advice. But it wasn’t my place to say anything, I remind myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror. He would have been more open to it if I’d written an anonymous note and left it in his mailbox.
Seriously, that’s not a bad idea for next time.
I step back into the keiki care. It’s just me and Kaila this morning, a native Hawaiian woman around my age who always wears this serene smile as if she knows some great secret to island life that will always be out of my reach.
She’s playing ukulele for the kids and singing something Hawaiian. I pick up on a few of the native words—for sea, sky, wind, love. Hawaiian is one of those languages that flows over you like a soft breeze. It doesn’t really matter what she’s saying. She could sing these kids her grocery list in her native Hawaiian and they’d still look at her entranced.