“Do you need any help bringing your stuff in?” She tried to make her tone sound warm, but she feared it came off as cold. She often did that—and usually when she didn’t want to.
Becca spun around as if surprised by her presence. Her dark red hair spiked perfectly behind her head, not moving with the no-doubt crazy amounts of gel in it, and her pale blue eyes widened.
Kimberly put her hands up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t. Well, I guess you did. I didn’t hear you at all.”
“I have been accused before of being too quiet.”
Becca wrapped her hands together in front of her. Kimberly straightened, tensing with nerves. She had to make this one work. Michael would start kindergarten soon enough, but Kiddie Academy had told her they would be canceling her contract if she fired another one of their nannies. She needed someone to help her.
“Do you have more things?” Kimberly asked again, not quite sure where to put her anxiety.
Becca shook her head. “No, this was the last of it. Did you want to talk about routine and everything else?”
“Sure. I was just going to grab a glass of wine. Do you want one? Wait! Are you even old enough for one?”
Shaking her head, Becca headed for the door. “Yes. I am old enough for wine, but I think I’ll skip it tonight and just have some water.”
Kimberly debated for one second whether or not to ask but gave in to curiosity. “How old are you, then?”
Becca scrunched her nose in Kimberly’s direction before snorting. “I’m twenty-eight. Yes, I’m still in college, working on my bachelor’s degree. Just taking it slowly—or as my mother would say, I’m on the twenty-year-plan.”
“Sounds like my mom,” Kimberly muttered as she reached the kitchen. “Glasses are in the cabinet to the right of the sink.”
Becca pulled down a drinking glass for herself and a wineglass for Kimberly. She handed it over, and their fingers brushed. Kimberly jerked and opened the white wine a bit more forcefully than she had to. She poured herself a glass—a full one, almost to the rim—before she headed for the giant island in her kitchen and sat. Becca soon followed with her glass of water and took up the next stool over.
Kimberly pushed a manilla folder over and took a long sip of her wine. “This is the basics of what I have. My schedule, mostly. I’m in the middle of building the television part of my career, so my schedule is crazy.”
“I Wiki’d you.”
“You what?” When she looked at Becca, there was a slight blush to Becca’s cheeks, and Becca refused to look Kimberly in the eye. “What did you find?”
“Random crap that may or may not be true.”
Kimberly hummed and took another long drink from her wine. “At least you don’t believe it all.”
“I don’t believe most of it.”
Kimberly narrowed her eyes at Becca. “I appreciate that. Short story? My ex and I split over two years ago, although we lived pretty separately before that, if we’re being honest. It was mutual, no hard feelings. We co-parent very well, mostly because Bradley has a hands-off tactic to parenting, but I have primary custody. Michael goes over there for one weekend a month and for two weeks in the summer—if Bradley ever actually takes him for two weeks.”
“That sounds very amicable.”
Turning on her stool to fully face Becca, Kimberly tried to judge where the tone was coming from. “You sound like you don’t believe me.”
“No divorce is amicable.”
“It was when he admitted finally that he is gay. No point in staying married to a woman.”
Becca’s lips formed into a perfect ‘O’ shape and color rushed to her cheeks.
“Wasn’t on Wiki, was it?” Kimberly snapped, this time allowing the anger to lace her tone. “He’s a doctor for the rich and famous, so he has a busy schedule and isn’t as interested in being a full-time daddy, but he does love Michael, and that’s all that matters in the long run. You will have those weekends completely off. I am home as much as I can be, and when I am home, you do not have to do a thing with Michael. However, my schedule is long and has random hours. I’m often gone for days when I’m shooting a show or for twelve-to-fourteen hours when I’m in the restaurant. I’m the executive chef at Gamma’s. That is when I need you to fill in the gaps.”
“That’s what I am here for.” Becca spun the glass of water on the counter between her fingers.
Kimberly bit the inside of her cheek, sure she had already screwed up what was her last-ditch effort to provide some sort of stability for her son while she was a single working mom. Silence carried over them. Kimberly was hesitant to break it, not sure what to say, but knowing she probably should. Exhaustion fluttered through her bones, and she rubbed the heel of her palm sharply against her thigh, as it ached.
Becca was the one who spoke first. “So, if you don’t cook at home, what does Michael eat?”
Kimberly snorted. “What I cook at the restaurant that’s left over.”
Becca hummed. “And you?”
“Doritos.”
“Seriously?”
“What? That wasn’t on Wikipedia?” Kimberly asked with a hint of sarcasm.
Becca clenched her hands, and her eyes drooped in sadness.
Kimberly wished she could take back her accusation, but she wasn’t the kind of person to filter herself.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
Astonished, Kimberly shook her head. “No, it’s natural for you to be curious. You’ll have to learn I have a very odd sense of humor. It’ll take a while for you to get used to it. Until then, feel free to just ignore me or call me crazy.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
Kimberly finished her wine. “I have a short day tomorrow, so I’ll be around in the morning if you have any questions.”
Standing, she set the empty glass in the sink and turned to face Becca. Becca looked so young compared to how Kimberly felt. They were twelve years apart in age, but it felt closer to two lifetimes. Becca’s life was just beginning and Kimberly’s was smack in the middle.
“My room is down there, across from Michael’s, if you need something.”
“I think I’ll be set.”
Kimberly hesitated a moment before turning and heading toward her bedroom, leaving Becca behind. It had been a quiet day at home, but it had been stressful nonetheless. Kimberly turned the light on as she entered her room and shut the door behind her. After stripping out of her loose shirt and tight leggings, she pulled on loose pajamas and a tank.
Sleep was not her forte. She hadn’t slept more than four hours since…she couldn’t even remember when. Pulling out her laptop, Kimberly reclined in her bed and pressed the machine into her lap. She opened the top, scrolled her emails, then retrieved the one file she hadn’t shared with anyone. It was a cookbook, a dream—something she’d always wanted to attempt but had struggled to get started. Even twenty years into her career, she still couldn’t formulate how it should all go together. She skimmed her notes before growing frustrated and turning on the television to watch her favorite show and zone out. Perhaps tomorrow would be a new day.
Chapter Two
Becca’d been at the house for close to a week, and she’d barely seen hide or hair of Kimberly. Her employer was always rushing in one direction then another, and when she wasn’t, she was spending time with Michael—and rightfully so. Their constant inadvertent avoidance of each other did not help to alleviate any of Becca’s curiosity about her new boss.
What she’d learned about Michael was far more interesting. The routine she had been given for him was definitely out of date. According to it, he was still napping for three hours a day. After attempting on the first day to settle him and get him to sleep, Becca had given up and turned to just having a couple of hours of quiet time in which he might or might not sleep. Most four-year-olds didn’t need hours of nap during the day.
His personality had taken a change
in a wonderful direction when Becca had declared an end to nap time. Michael was a bright and bubbly kid, crazy-smart, who had a penchant for saying the most quizzical things. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he meant everything he said as a joke. She smirked to herself as she put the final touches on their dinner.
“Michael, supper is ready.”
He burst from the living area where he had been playing with a car in some high-speed chase. His feet pattered against the floor as he ran.
“Wait! It’s not done yet!” he shouted.
“It’s not?” Becca stood with her hands on her hips, scanning their plates and the skillet to see what she had missed.
“I need a towel.” Michael grabbed the one settled on the rail of the oven and shoved it over his hand. He pointed a finger in the dish towel then got up on his stool, wiping his hand in a circle around the plate. He did it to one then the other.
Becca gave him a confused look when he set the towel down and grinned up at her. “Now it’s ready.”
“Where’d you learn to do that?” Laughing, Becca grabbed the food and headed toward the table so they could sit down to eat.
“Mom does it.”
“She probably does.” Becca set the plates down and pulled out the chair for Michael to climb into it. She pulled out her own chair before she slid to sit.
“I know she does.” Michael grabbed his fork and stabbed a piece of the sliced chicken. He popped it in his mouth and giggled. “You’re the bestest cook ever in the whole wide world!”
“Ahhh, thank you, kiddo.” Becca’s cheeks warmed, but her stomach dropped an instant later.
“Even better than me?”
“Mama!” Michael jumped off the chair and ran for the door. “You’re home!”
Becca slowly turned in her chair, eyeing their unexpected dinner guest. Kimberly looked disheveled and not too much the worse for wear, but she had a tired look in her eyes. She opened her arms wide for Michael to run into them, but when she only closed her right arm around his shoulders, Becca narrowed her gaze even more. Kimberly winced.
“Have you eaten? We just sat down.”
Kimberly sat in one of the empty chairs, leaning back and closing her eyes. “That sounds heavenly.”
“I’ll get it, Mama!”
“I’ll help you.” Becca stood and followed Michael into the kitchen.
He scrambled up the stool to grab a plate. Becca took the plate from him so he could stand near the stove. She carefully plated the chicken, the broccoli and the rice before dipping the spoon into the sauce and drizzling it over the top in a slow circle.
Leaning down, Becca whispered to Michael, “A good server always asks his customers what they want to drink.”
Michael didn’t hesitate before he raced over and grabbed Kimberly’s hand. “What do you want to drink?”
“Water would be lovely.” She caressed the back of his head before he ran to the kitchen.
Becca had already brought a glass down for him, and as soon as he got there, she handed it over. He put it up to the fridge and filled it before slowly walking to his mom with it in hand. Becca followed with the dinner plate in tow. She set it down before sitting in her own chair. Michael had already dived into his meal again, but Becca was stuck observing Kimberly.
Her face was drawn, her eyes downcast and her cheeks unusually pale. Her normally chipper attitude when returning home or seeing Michael was muted. Something is wrong. Becca had no idea what it was, but she knew Kimberly was off. Taking a bite of her own meal, Becca attempted to keep Michael distracted from whatever was going on while also still watching Kimberly to try to figure it all out.
Soon enough, they were finished eating, Michael’s plate and hers had been cleaned, but Kimberly’s was only half-touched, the chicken in particular left alone. Becca picked up the plates while Kimberly begged Michael to go get into his pajamas. Kimberly wandered into the kitchen where Becca was busy cleaning up and filled her water glass up again.
Becca held her tongue. As much as she wanted to ask what was wrong, she didn’t. They didn’t know each other well enough, and Becca wasn’t sure how well asking a blunt question would come off, but there was something definitely up.
When, for the third or fourth time Kimberly did something and refused to move her left arm, Becca pulled out all the stops. She turned the water off and spun around, leaning against the massive sink with her arms crossed. She eyed Kimberly up and down, her gaze scanning from Kimberly’s toes to her wide, luscious hips, to her breasts then her face.
“Like what you see?” Kimberly snarled.
Becca wrinkled her nose and ignored the attack. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
Pointing one finger at Kimberly, Becca smirked. “That right there tells me something happened. What did you hurt? You haven’t used your left arm since you got home.”
Kimberly rolled her eyes and spun on her heel. She turned and headed for the couch, flopping down. Becca, not willing to give up the fight she had picked, followed her and stood over her still form. She waited patiently and silently for Kimberly to give her an answer, and when she said nothing, Becca caved.
“Would you prefer Michael be in here to hear your story or would you prefer to share it before he’s ready to be tucked in?”
“I slipped at the restaurant and fell down. Nothing more.”
“They sent you home.”
Glaring, Kimberly gave a curt nod.
“Because?”
Kimberly snorted. “Because I’m too old and sore to keep going tonight.”
“Old and sore? Really?”
Kimberly waved her right hand. Becca caught it and squeezed briefly, drawing Kimberly’s attention to her. Their gazes locked, and Becca sat down on the edge of the couch. She dropped Kimberly’s right hand and reached for her left. Kimberly jerked it out of the way.
“Kim. It’s more than just sore, isn’t it?”
“Just sore.”
“Let me see, then.”
Huffing out a breath, Kimberly moved her arm so Becca could take a look. Gingerly taking Kimberly’s hand in hers, Becca carefully inspected it. Scars from cuts and burns littered the top of her hand and even up along her wrist, but that certainly wasn’t what was bothering her. Becca went to turn Kimberly’s hand over, but Kimberly hissed and jerked away.
“Bend it.”
“No.” Kimberly glared.
“Can you?”
“No,” Kimberly answered with a defeated tone.
Becca glanced at the hallway where she knew Michael was probably already done getting ready for bed. “You have to go to the ER.”
“No.”
“Non-negotiable. You probably broke it.”
“I didn’t break it.”
“Kim…how exactly did you fall?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Fine. Did you land on your palm?”
Becca knew from the look Kimberly gave her that she had hit the nail on the head. Becca let out a short breath and leaned back, pressing her hand to Kimberly’s thigh.
“I’ll get you some ice for now, but you are going to the ER. I can either call one of my friends to come watch Michael if you don’t have anyone, or he can come, but you have to get this checked out. This is your livelihood, remember?”
“I know.” The sorrowful timbre was back.
Becca took it as a good sign.
“He can come. Hopefully it won’t take too long,” Kimberly answered, resigned.
“I’ll drive then.”
* * * *
They arrived at the ER to find a nearly empty waiting room. Kimberly relaxed, knowing they would most likely not be there all night, but she still wasn’t happy about being dragged to the doctor. Michael bounced up and down. She reached over and placed a firm hand on his shoulder as she leaned over the admitting desk.
“Hi, how can we help you tonight?” The woman’s sweet voice irked her, as did most things lately.
&
nbsp; Kimberly took a breath and tightened her fingers on Michael’s shoulder. Just before she was going to answer, Becca butted in.
“I’ll take him over to the chairs. That way you can focus.”
Kimberly gave a curt nod before answering the initial question, thankful someone was taking some control for once. “I had a fall at work and did something to my wrist.”
After a few more questions and a clipboard of paperwork, Kimberly sat next to Becca and Michael, who flipped through a book that had magically appeared. Kimberly narrowed her eyes at it, trying to remember if it was one from home before giving up and focusing on the paperwork in front of her.
Becca and Michael chatted amicably while Kimberly waited, pain seeping from her fingers all the way up to her shoulder. She was glad Becca had come to entertain Michael, because she wasn’t sure she had the wherewithal to deal with him and pay attention to her own medical needs.
Once Michael finished with the book he had been reading, Becca put it into a bag Kimberly hadn’t noticed before. From the bag, she pulled out a second book, one of Michael’s favorites. Becca read it to him, pointing at each word as she went. Michael followed along, saying the words he knew by heart. Kimberly closed her eyes and focused on taking deep breaths to relax herself. This was not where she’d wanted to end up. She certainly didn’t want to be there with Michael in tow, but Becca had been right. She needed to get her wrist checked out.
“Kimberly Thompson.” Her name rang through the near-empty waiting area.
Kimberly rustled around as she moved to stand up. Michael looked up at her with curiosity and a touch of fear, his brown eyes wide. Sighing, Kimberly jerked her head to the side.
“Come on then, the both of you. Let’s get this over with.”
The three of them trekked into a small room with a bed. Kimberly sat on the mattress while Michael and Becca took the chairs. She put her feet up, thankful for the place to rest, and closed her eyes. The nurse asked even more questions, which Kimberly answered, then she left.
Michael took the opportunity to sneak around the bed and pull himself up with the sheets so he could lie next to Kimberly. He snuggled under her good arm and pressed his face to her chest.
Love Burns Page 2