Epilogue
“I think she’s finally asleep,”Elena said, coming into Brent’s oven-warmed kitchen and taking the glass of wine he offered her.
He’d never seen her look frazzled before. Now her short hair was mussed and her makeup smudged. He’d thought she was beautiful before, but now she looked approachable, too. And he wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
“I’m really sorry she wasn’t asleep when you got home,” she added. “She wanted to watch another cartoon, and we picked The Incredibles, and I think it just got her all worked up. I had no idea she’d get out of bed to start building a fort for her stuffed animals while I was making the cupcakes.”
“No worries,” he said with a small chuckle. He wasn’t surprised; he knew his five-year-old, Faith, well. “I’m prepared for massive crankiness tomorrow.”
He saw her horrified look and wished he’d stayed silent. He didn’t like seeing Elena Anderson upset. And every time he’d seen her that way, he’d had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss the worry right off her face.
And that definitely wasn’t the direction his mind needed to be going. Not with her. Not with his boss and friend’s daughter. And definitely not with his babysitter.
“Seriously,” he said to reassure her, “it’s no big deal. Kids stay up late. They sneak out of bed. It happens. And I really appreciate you helping me out. I know childcare wasn’t what you had in mind when you started graduate school.”
“I’m happy to help. Truly. She’s a great kid, and since your schedule is flexible it’s easy to be here when you need me. Most of the time I’m working on my own. You know how grad school is.”
“I don’t actually. Cop. Security specialist. Now bar owner and partner to your father,” he added, because he really needed to say that out loud. A reminder to them both. Because even though he’d been telling himself for months that it was his imagination, he knew damn well that Elena was attracted to him, too.
Hell, lightning had positively crackled between them the first time they’d met. And more than once he’d caught her looking at him, the desire so palpable that he’d had to turn away and imagine cold showers and other non-sensual things.
He was a wreck, and he was quickly losing confidence in his excuse that because it had been so long since he’d had a woman in his bed, that he was starved for any woman.
She flashed a sweet, almost shy smile, and his stomach flip-flopped.
No. It was Elena. Definitely Elena.
“This is nice,” she said. “Chatting, I mean. Usually I’m rushing off the second you get home.”
“Well, I can’t let you risk ruining the cupcakes.”
“That’s something else I’m sorry for. I should have called to clear it with you. So I hope you don’t mind. Apparently she needs them for school.”
“I don’t mind at all. I just…”
“Yes?”
How could he say that the room seemed too small, but he knew damn well that it wasn’t because of the heat from the oven?
“Nothing,” he said instead. “Forgot what I was going to say.”
She cocked her head, a question in her eyes, and for a second he thought she might be about to call him out on his lie. He almost hoped she would.
Bing!
“Done,” she said, her voice a little too bright, as if that would combat the tension in the room.
She bent to take them out, and Brent forced himself not to study the perfect curve of her ass in her Lucky jeans.
Lucky. Wasn’t that ironic?
She put the cupcake pan on a trivet, then took off the oven mitts. “Well. There. I guess I should get going.”
“Don’t they need to cool?”
She nodded. “I figure you’ve done this before, right? Faith can frost them in the morning. And you just need to put them in some Tupperware.”
“Right. I could do that. Or you could stay and make sure I don’t put them away too soon.”