"You got it." He'd have to tell Elena to be sure and get some real food into his kiddo that evening. But right now, buttery popcorn on a Saturday with his best girl and a cartoon fish sounded like a damn good time.
Chapter Five
Elena pulled down the visor on her tiny Honda and checked her makeup. Frowning, she reached for her purse--her lipstick was slightly smeared--then yanked her hand back as if she'd been bitten by a snake.
What on earth was she doing? Here she was, parked in front of Brent's house so that she could go babysit--babysit--and she was checking her freaking makeup? Clearly she had lost her mind.
Faith couldn't care less if her Cranberry Wine was smudged. And as for Brent ... well, she was certain he didn't care either. And she shouldn't care. In fact...
She let the thought trail off as she bent over, then retrieved the box of tissues from the passenger seat floorboard. She tugged out a tissue, wiped it violently over her mouth, then checked herself in the mirror again. Mostly gone. Just a hint of the plum-rose tint that flattered her dark skin. Good. She still looked put together, but not like she'd been trying too hard.
Good Lord. Was she really wasting time thinking about this? Brent wasn't going to notice one way or another. And she needed to just push the man right out of her head.
Easier said than done, though. She hadn't had an actual, solid infatuation since Raymond Jackson in eleventh grade. She was a grown woman; fantasies were one thing--and yes, she fantasized about Brent far too often. But actual crushes were absurd.
And yet here she was, completely pre-occupied with the man. And apparently also completely unable to banish him from her thoughts.
She should have said no. She should have sucked it up, shaken her head, and told Jenna and Brent and the whole wide world that she absolutely couldn't babysit.
But she hadn't. And she couldn't let him down now.
She drew in a cleansing breath, exhaled, then stepped out of the car. She'd been to Brent's bungalow in Austin's Crestview neighborhood before, but today she paid more attention as she walked slowly up the sidewalk to the front door. The lawn was perfectly trimmed, the patio surrounded by flowering shrubs. The front door had been recently painted a deep blue, and the wooden porch gleamed a sparkling white.
Brent was a man who knew how to take care of things, something she would have guessed from the way he took care of The Fix and his daughter, but it was nice to see it played out in other aspects of his life.
Then again, maybe she was just being overly analytical to buy time.
Not that she had a reason in the world to be nervous. This wasn't a date. She'd come to babysit. He wasn't interested in anything more. And that, she told herself firmly, was for the best.
Before she could launch into another bout of nerves, she rang the doorbell, then smiled at the pounding of little feet. A second later, the door flew open and Faith stood there, her eyes wide and her cheeks red with exertion.
"Elena! We just watched Nemo!"
"That's great. I love Dory, especially. And the seagulls."
"Mine!" the little girl said, in a near-perfect imitation of the gulls from the movie. She stepped back, giving Elena room to enter. "We're going to have fun. Daddy said so."
"Then I guess it must be true." She smiled at Brent who stepped in from the kitchen, a dish towel in his hands.
"Sorry. Someone had a little popcorn with her butter. I needed to wash off the greasiness."
Faith looked at her hands, grimaced, then wiped them on her jeans.
"You. Go wash."
"Okay, Daddy." She started to trot that way, but he held out a hand, stopping her.
"Did you ask who it was before you pulled open the door?"
"But it was Elena! We like her!" Her voice rose with indignation, and Elena bit back a smile, pleased to be among the welcome elite.
"We do," Brent said, aiming a wink at Elena that made her insides go all gooey. "But unless you have X-ray vision that I don't know about, you didn't know for sure it was Elena until after you opened the door. Do you have X-ray vision?"
She shook her head. "No, Daddy."
"What's the rule?"
"Always ask who it is before opening the door."