Page 22 of Falling for Her

“It’s literally ten steps from your house. You are outside because you think I would have left, or better yet, I might key your car. But I didn’t. You want to know why?”

“Because vandalizing someone’s property is illegal?” I don’t know why, but fighting with her gives me life. It irritates the fuck out of me, but it’s also fun as fuck.

She pffts at me. “That isn’t why.”

“Then why?”

“Could be a whole bunch of reasons. Off the top of my head, it might be because you would win.” She moves into the light, and I can see her blue eyes a bit. “You would know that you got to me, and I would rather eat warm sushi that has been festering in the sun than ever admit that you got to me.”

“You just admitted it,” I point out.

“I didn’t admit anything.” She takes another step toward me. “Now, I’m going to go and take a shower because I’ve been working for the past fifteen hours, and I didn’t even get a ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day?’ I got nothing. That’s on you.” She points at me. “And I only have about ten hours before I have to see you again. During that time, I don’t want to even think about you.” She pivots and opens her door.

“Have a nice night,” I say softly.

“No,” she snaps, her back to me. “It’s too little, too late to be a nice fucking guy. You can’t change it now.”

I laugh silently. “It’s never too late to be nice.”

She tosses a glare at me before slamming the door behind her.

“Yup, she fucking hates you.” I shake my head and go inside to Asa, locking the back door.

I turn off the television and notice she forgot her cell phone. I pick it up from the table and walk back outside. I knock on her door and wait for what feels like a minute, then knock again.

The door whips open, and she’s standing there with her hair wet, dripping all over the floor, a big white towel loosely wrapped around her. She’s glaring at me again. “Did I not just say I don’t want to talk to you for ten hours?” she snaps. “It’s been ten minutes.”

I hold up her phone. “You forgot this.”

She snatches it out of my hand. I’m so taken aback by her answering the door in a towel, wet from the shower, I don’t even have time to hold it tighter.

“Ten hours.” She slams the door in my face.

I blink twice. “Way too fucking hot to be a nanny.”

I turn and walk back into the house, locking the door once again and going over to Asa. I pick him up from the couch, and his eyes open.

“Dad,” he mutters, “where is Finley?”

“She went home. Did you have a good day?”

“Hmmm,” he mumbles as I carry him upstairs to his bedroom. I put him in his bed and cover him. “She’s really nice.” He turns on his side and then starts snoring.

“Yeah,” I admit, “she really is nice.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

FINLEY

I slam the door shut and tiptoe back to the shower, trying not to slip and break my head or my hip while I do it. The towel slides from around me as I step back into the water, letting it rain all over me. I spent the better part of today outside with Asa, keeping him busy. We stayed at the park until lunchtime. When the other kids were going to their houses, I got flustered thinking about what to make him, or what I couldn’t make him, so we went to the bakery and had some sandwiches.

Dinner was another story. We went to the supermarket, and I grabbed a frozen pizza and one of those salad kits. Asa had to show me how the oven worked. I blamed it on it being my first time with that oven, and he fell for it. I read the pizza directions like my life depended on it, checking every two to four minutes to make sure it wouldn’t fucking burn. It took longer than forty-five minutes to cook because I kept opening the oven door. After I took out the pizza, Asa told me I could have turned on the light in the oven. I tried not to glare at him, but he laughed at me anyway.

I thought I did an amazing job today. I even made him take a shower, and after, he was just lounging on the couch. How was I supposed to know he had to go to bed at a certain time?

I turn the water off and wrap my hair up in the semi-wet towel I snatched when I heard knocking at the door. I grab a fresh, dry towel to wrap around me and walk out to my bedroom. The shades are already closed, and I moisturize and pull on shorts and a tank top. My phone rings, and I rush out to the living room to answer. Collins’s name flashes on the screen.

I put her on speaker. “Hello.”