Burn for You

by Marquita Valentine

  “Growth spurt,” Paisley says. “Our last visit with the pediatricians put her in the 95th percentile for height. He said she’s gonna be tall.”

  “Tall, smart, and pretty. I better get my shotgun ready,” I say, hooking my leg around the nearest chair and pulling it to me. I flip it around and sit, waiting patiently for Paisley to realize I’m not here to judge her.

  Her gaze flicks my way. “While I’m gone, I want you take care of Mia.”

  “Anything you need.” I mean it. Covering her hand with mine, I squeeze gently. “We’re a team. I’m here to support you.”

  Paisley gives me a thin smile. “Austin will be taking care of her, too.”

  I drop her hand. Terror and anger fills me. What I know of him is nothing good, and he might be the most upstanding father in the world, but I’m not willing to take that chance. The only times I’ve ever seen him is when he was high or drunk at a party. He was tolerable then, but the marks I’d find on Paisley, courtesy of him giving in to her need to be hurt, has made me forever pissed and suspicious of him.

  To enjoy rough sex is one thing, but Paisley doesn’t like to get hurt because it gets her off. She needs to hurt so she can forget the real pain that eats at her. If Austin really cared about her, then he’d tell her ass no, but he’s only there for her money and the drugs she can score.

  The only reason I haven’t called the cops on them or reported her to Child Services is that she doesn’t allow that shit around Mia. Okay, so there is another reason, but it’s only supported by the fact that Mia is safe. I don’t want Mia taken away and placed in foster care. If I’m not her biological father, then no judge this side of the Mississippi would grant me custody.

  But all that doesn’t mean I can’t put my foot down. “No way in hell. He’s not touching my daughter, much less taking her anywhere.”

  “She may or may not be your daughter, so you don’t have a say in this,” she reminds me.

  Fuck that. “Actually, I am her dad, blood or not, and I do have a say in this. I’m the one taking care of her anytime you drop her off, not that I’m complaining.” I lower my voice. “But don’t you dare make me the fucking babysitter. I’m more than that, and you know it. And I’m done with your bullshit rules. If I want to put an announcement up on YouTube about Mia, I’ll do it.”

  “Fine.”

  “That’s it. No argument?”

  “No. You seem serious and babysat Mia whenever I need to get my hair done or go on vacay, so if that’s your conditions,” she shrugs a shoulder, “then fine.”

  I want to roar in frustration. It’s all I can do to keep it together. I seriously want to flip out on her, but that would only play into her hand. So I grit my teeth and say, “I want an official document, from a lawyer who doesn’t work for either one of our families, drawn up.”

  “It would be such a crying shame if I put up my own You Tube video, saying you weren’t the dad,” she says lightly.

  “Put up whatever the hell you want, Paisley. I don’t care.”

  She makes a noise of disbelief. “Sure you don’t.”

  “What you don’t understand, what you still haven’t gotten through your head—this stopped being about you and me as soon as she was born. Everything I do is in Mia’s best interest. So, the papers will be drawn up. And you will sign them,” I say flatly.

  Paisley looks at Mia, and then at me. Her big blue eyes are shiny with tears, but I’m past the point of giving a damn anymore. “You’ll let me have her back, right?”

  “She’s not a toy for me to borrow and then return.” I stand up and begin to pace the room. “I want you to get help, Paisley. You are a good mom to Mia. You know when you need help and ask for it.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off with a look. “I’m not stupid. You keep her for as long as you can, but when the craving becomes too much...”

  “I know,” she says quietly. “But I’m not like you, Beau. I don’t have your willpower, or that inner goodness of yours.”

  I run hand through my hair. “Willpower has a lot to do with it, but inner goodness? Inner goodness has nothing to do with becoming an addict, or even staying one. It’s a combination of things in and out of our control.” I suck in my lip ring for a minute, thankful I put it back in before heading here. “I don’t want to get into this with you. I said I’m here to help you, and that’s it.”

  “You still love me, don’t you?”

  Turning to look at her, I take in her dark hair, the lavender shadows under her blue eyes... at the most perfect pair of lips I thought I ever kissed. She’s thin to the point of gaunt, the hospital gown practically swallowing her. There’s a fresh bruise the exact size of a man’s hand on her upper arm. She looks nothing like the girl I met at seventeen. The girl I fell head over heels for... I rub the back of my neck and wait for the memories to wash over me, to paint over this pitiful scene of the mother of my child lying in a hospital bed because of an overdose. I want to see her hair shine, her eyes sparkle, and her lips rosy again. I want to touch warm, plump skin that’s healthy and alive. I want to hear her laugh and tease me.

  But memories stay back, like our current situation is a mile of sandbags holding them back. She doesn’t change for me. She doesn’t morph into the girl I fell in love with. Instead, she stays as she is—a selfish addict.

  I glance at Mia. She’s staring in complete fascination at the screen of the heart monitor. She’s healthy, full of life, and happy—a fat little cherub sitting in her mother’s lap. The contrast between them breaks my heart.

  Paisley doesn’t want me, not my love... not my money, or fame, or anything else I’d be willing to give. It’s time I let go of what could have been and concentrate on what will be. I will have Mia in my life. I will be her dad.

  Nothing else matters.

  “I love Mia, and if I help you, then I’m helping her.”

  Her lower lip trembles, but I feel nothing other than pity. “You love Mia, but not me?”

  I gaze into Paisley’s blue eyes, eyes I thought I’d be staring into forever with. Let her go, Beau. “Yes.”

  Chapter Four

  Landry

  Two months later

  I squirm a bit in my chair while Meagan’s Aunt Kimmie looks over my application packet. I filled it out months ago, but she hasn’t needed me for a job until now.

  It’s perfect. One child, under a year old, live –in care, so I won’t have to move back home, and it includes an undisclosed salary as well as full benefits.

  Her call came at just the right time, too. I graduated a week ago, but the state job had gone to another person and I hadn’t been able to find another job to replace the income I’d earned at King’s.

  “Do you have a current passport, Ms. Basnight?” Kimmie Farnsworth asks, her smile bright. She’s wearing signature Lily Pulitzer, a bright pink and green floral sheath dress. Her dark hair is in a soft chignon, and diamonds flash in her ears.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s only a year old. I got it when Meagan and I went to the Bahamas for Spring Break our junior year.” My one big splurge in college. I can’t help but wonder why I would need a passport.

  “How nice.” She closes the file containing my application and set it in front of her. “There’s only one other qualified candidate.”

  I frown. “Oh, I thought I had the job.”

  “You’ve made it through the application process, but the final decision rests with the family.” She folds her hands together. “I’m a little nervous about you, to be honest, because of your age, but all my other girls, except for Mrs. Williams, are already placed, and my client doesn’t have a lot of time.”

  My heart sinks, but I’m determined to get this job. I need this job. “I understand, but as you can see from college transcripts, my recommendations, my—”

  “Those are wonderful things, Landry. Very impressive. Meagan told me you are very sensitive to what goes on in hospitals, yet you volunteer to—”

  I lean forward, cutting her
off. “Yes, I’m right out of college, but I promise it won’t be a problem. It was never a problem when I waitressed at King’s.” I fight down the blush that threatens to make me out for the liar I am. An image of Beau Montgomery flashes in my head, all sprawled out beneath me. My hands on his chest, his fingers wrapped around my wrists.

  “Landry?”

  I force the image away and take a deep breath, smiling. “I appreciate you taking the time to consider me, and I promise that if the family decides I’m the right fit, then I’ll make you proud.”

  Kimmie looks me over, a dark brow rising. “See that you do.” She picks up a piece of paper and hands it to me. “You have an interview in forty minutes.”

  “Oh my gosh! Thank you. I’m going to nanny the crud out of that kid!” I practically squeal and Kimmie laughs, her haughty persona melting away.

  “Show Mr. Montgomery that side of you, and I’m sure you’ll get the position.”

  It couldn’t be? “Great,” I say, my voice a whole lot weaker than it was. Somehow, I manage to get out of Kimmie’s office and sit on a bench outside before I allow myself to read what is written on the paper she gave me.

  Beau and Mia Montgomery ~ 346 Laurel Springs Way, Forrestville

  My eyes almost pop out of my head. “You’re married?” Oh good Lord. I’d been having fantasies about a married man? A married man whose lap I’d sat in and chest I’d fondled.

  I groan and shove the paper inside my purse.

  Fantasies about celebrities didn’t count, because of two reasons.

  One—I’ve never met any of them.

  Two—They’ve never met me.

  So none of it was real.

  However, Beau Montgomery is real. He’s tall, muscled, and smells like heaven.

  And married.

  Chapter Five

  Beau

  I really don’t want to do this. Mia grins at me while she swings, and I exhale. But there’s no other choice.

  Finally, I got the call. The one I’ve been waiting for my entire life. Not only am I going to be the youngest driver, at only twenty-four, but I am going to be the only American racing on the Circuit de Monaco. I’ll drive a Formula One car and will challenge world-renowned drivers for a four-million pound purse.

  “You’re not backing out,” Remington says, sitting in a chair across from me and my daughter. He stops by my house every day in the hopes of playing with Mia. It’s annoying as hell. “I don’t care how much you huff and puff over there while you deliberate, you’re not telling them no.”

  “I plan on going, Remington.”

  He jabs his thumb in Mia’s direction. “Judith will be happy to keep her while we stay in Monaco.”

  “You are not coming with me.”

  His gray eyes narrow. “Why the hell not?”

  “Because Prince Albert invited me and not you.” It gives me great pleasure to throw that in his face. His redneck ass thinks he’s moving up in the world, but I’m not going to let him. “I’m taking my team, my daughter, and the nanny I’m hiring.”

  Remington laughs. “Aren’t you having a big time now?”

  I roll my eyes. “Cut it out.”

  He holds up his hands. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” He shakes his head. “Sometimes, I look at you and think, this cannot be the same boy I brought up here.”

  I think that all the time. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself at all. “You can thank Chase for that.”

  My father grunts. “I’m not thanking him for anything.” Here we go again. Remington is still pissed at my older brother for not following in his footsteps and becoming a womanizing dickhead. Well, Chase is a dickhead all right, but the only woman for him is his wife—the same woman he called his best friend years before they ever got together.

  Strange how life works out like that.

  Mia giggles, and I turn my attention to her. Her light brown hair fell out last month and a sort of strawberry blond has replaced it. I’m not sure what to make of that since Paisley’s a brunette and no one’s a ginger in either of our families.

  Though Austin could be one. I’m not sure since he dyes it black and green. Paisley got all bent out of shape when she realized I’d stopped dyeing my hair after I’d gotten successful at racing. She said I was giving in to pressure, while I felt like I didn’t need the attention it garnered. I wanted to be known for my driving skills, not my hair color of the week.

  The doorbell rings and I get up, leaving Remington with Mia. For all his worthlessness as a father to me, he makes one hell of a grandfather. Plus, Mia loves him.

  Clearly, I need to do a better job teaching her which guys are bad for her.

  But first, I have to interview candidate number one: Landry Basnight, a recent college graduate of UNC-Charlotte and currently a volunteer at Charlotte Baptist Medical Center. She has an early childhood degree and is about twenty years too young for the job. Too bad really, because her resume is incredible. I’m impressed as hell with how she spends her time.

  Only, I need old, like Nanny McPhee old. But I can’t tell her that, so I’ll do the right thing and interview her, then go with candidate number two, a fifty-five year old grandmother, who enjoys knitting and baking pies.

  No harm, no foul. No talking in the press about what they think I’m doing to the nanny either.

  I swing open the door, and my jaw nearly drops to the floor. Same brown hair, same hazel eyes, same lush curves, and a full mouth that makes me want to do very good bad things with it.

  While my body gets all on board with what it’s being shown, my mind tries to make sense of it all. “Lisa?”

  She blushes, full-on scarlet as her eyes round. Recovering slightly, she extends her arm, her small hand held out in offering. “Landry Basnight. I’m here for the nanny position.”

  Oh, I can think of lots of positions I want to have her in—under me, on top of me, or in front of me with her ass in the air. Even if she hadn’t already left a bad taste in my mouth, all those positions are exactly why I can’t hire her.

  I’m pretty damn sure fucking the nanny isn’t allowed.

  Out of habit, I take that dainty hand, squeeze it lightly, and then just because I can, I don’t let go. Instead, I relish the feel of her soft skin against mine. I enjoy the fact that her lips part and her chest starts to rapidly rise and fall.

  “Nice to meet you again, Landry.” I rake my gaze over her, taking in the pencil-thin skirt and dark pink shirt that clings to her like second skin. She looks like a naughty teacher. I am more turned on by this outfit than the scantily clad uniform she wore at King’s. I attribute this to my constant need to rebel against authority and the unfulfilled fantasies I’ve had about librarians and teachers. “Landry suits you better than Lisa.”

  “I...” Her gaze drops, black lashes falling on her cheeks. “It’s nice to meet you again, too, Mr. Montgomery.”

  “You can call me Beau.”

  Her chin jerks up, her expression surprised, as if she expected me to lecture her on the deception. “I don’t think so.”

  Keeping her distance. Smart girl. “Guess the fake names help keep you safe?”

  She nods, her cheeks returning to a normal color of soft pink. “Sometimes we get stalkers.”

  My grip tightens. The bouncer, who, according to my brother, Walker, was busy getting it on with Jasmine every time she left the room, should have been protecting Landry and the other employees. No wonder girls were getting stalked. Drunk assholes have no sense of morality. They’re just drunk assholes who, in their head, have an excuse.

  Damn it, this girl needs someone to look after her. That someone needs to be me. I mentally shake myself. That someone cannot be me. I need to keep my distance, too.

  “Who’s stalking you?” I ask anyway, because I can’t help but want to protect her and beat the other guy’s ass.

  She shakes her head. “Not me. Another girl, but she’s okay. Besides, I don’t work there anymore, not after wha
t happened with us.”

  “You were fired?” Well, shit. Maybe I can talk to Chase about rehiring her, since I can’t.

  “Not really.”

  I give her a look. “Explain ‘not really’.”

  She looks down at our hands instead of answering me. “Let go of me, and I’ll be happy to.”

  “Maybe I like holding your hand,” I reply, rubbing my thumb along her skin. That familiar feeling of falling comes over me, but I don’t let go.

  “What you like and what you should be doing are two very different things, Mr. Montgomery,” she says, slipping her hand from my grasp. She crosses her arms in front of her and pins me with a glare.

  The wind picks up, chasing a strand of wavy, light brown hair around her beautiful, angry face. Unable to help myself, I tuck that loose strand behind her ear and let my fingers linger for a moment on her soft skin.

  “What I want to do is criminal, Ms. Basnight,” I say softly. So much for keeping my distance.

  She sucks in a breath, her cheeks flushing again. No act, far as I can tell. She’s all out of her element. Satisfaction roars. She wanted me then at Kings, and she wants me now.

  The knowledge sends a shot of pure lust straight to my cock.

  Jesus, I’m in trouble.

  Landry

  “Then go be all lawbreaking with Mrs. Montgomery,” I say, unsure if I should leave or not. Of all the things I could be in life, being attracted to a married man is not one of them.

  His brows crash together. “Wow. That’s...uh, pretty sick.”

  “I assume married people, like you and Mrs. Montgomery—”

  Another one of those panty-melting grins curve up the corners of his lips, and I suddenly feel like a joke’s been made, only I don’t know the punch line. He leans into me, overwhelming my senses. I clench my fists to keep from touching him.

  This is a really bad idea. There’s no way I’ll be party to breaking up a marriage or even if I didn’t break one up, to be complicit in his affairs. I start to back up, but Beau catches me by the elbow.

  “You think I’m married?” he says softly, his lips brushing my ear. It doesn’t help that he has in the lip ring. The warm metal is like nothing I’ve ever felt against my skin. The naughty part of me wonders what it would feel like against more sensitive areas. I shiver, my nipples tightening and heat pulsing between my thighs.