“But you just said—”
“You look like the queen. The mama queen.”
Tash’s gap toothed smile stretches across her face. A crazy warmth forms in my stomach. One I’ve never felt before. I’ve always known what it’s like to have older sisters. To be the baby. But now I’m the older one, and I’ve never had anyone look up to me before.
I genuflect, and Natasha follows suit. Then she rushes over and throws her arms around my waist. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She whispers.
Suddenly, I have no idea what to do with my hands. I hold them out to the side for a moment, before letting them rest on the little girl’s back. “Okay,” I say, before any more wild emotion can take over. “Even princesses have bedtimes.”
Tash doesn’t even moan. She hops into bed and I tuck her frilly pink comforter up to her chin. “Goodnight, Emmi.” She says as I switch from overhead light to night light. “I love you.” My breath catches in my throat. The girl must be confused. She just likes playing with me. Not having a mom around has messed with her head.
God knows it’s messed with mine.
I press my finger to her nose and head out into the hall. I don’t make it two steps when a low voice stops me in my tracks. “She’s so glad you’re here.” I turn to the dark figure standing a few feet behind me. Trent walks forward into the light, freshly showered with his hair slicked away from his face accentuating his jawline, strong and reserved for professional athletes and movie stars.
“I’m glad to be here, too.” I say, shifting from foot to foot. Trent makes me nervous, not just because he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met. He’s my boss. He’s Tash’s dad. The closer he moves toward me the more nervous I get.
“Have a drink downstairs with me before you turn in?” He asks.
I nod, running my tongue across my gloss coated bottom lip. “Sure.”
I follow him downstairs, watching his round ass as he walks in front of me. Whoever put him together did a bang-up job. His fresh, shower clean scent wafts behind him when he walks. Forget the drink, I’m already drunk on the way he smells.
We head to the family room and Trent pulls out two wine glasses. I twist my lips. “Got any beer?”
The corner of his mouth lifts into an almost smile. “I sure do.” I sit on the sofa as he grabs two and brings them down to the couch. He sits across from me, just like he did in our interview. We clink glasses and drink.
“I wasn’t going to hire you.” He says after a long swig.
I nearly choke on my beer. “Wow.” I set my glass down on a coaster. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“But the way you were with Tash, I couldn’t pass you up. As you know, her mother’s not in the picture.”
“I put that together. What happened?” I wish I could take back the question the minute it pops out of my mouth. “Sorry, that’s super invasive.”
“No.” He runs his hand through his still damp hair, revealing a lion tattoo on his forearm. “Well, yes it is a little personal.” He leans back, crosses his ankle and the strangest urge to sit in his lap washes over me.
“Her mother and I are divorced. She moved away and only sees Tash twice a year if she’s lucky.” His brow furrows. “She’s an artist. Decided to head to New Mexico. Met a man. He has two kids. It’s almost like Tash doesn’t exist.”
The pain splashed across Trent’s face isn’t for his wife. It’s for his daughter. “That’s shitty.”
“She won’t give me full custody, though.” He smiles stiffly. “To save face.”
“That’s even shittier.” To my surprise Trent breaks into a full on smile. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen him smile before, at least not at me. I can’t help but smile back. “Why didn’t you want to hire me?” Again, the words spill out before I can think twice.
Trent’s jaw clenches, and a long silence passes between us. “It’s complicated.”
“What isn’t?” I pull my hair down from the tight bun Tash made me wear. Tingles erupt all over my scalp as I shake out the hair, bending it into new directions. “Geez that feels good.” I sigh, kick off my slippers, and tuck my feet underneath me. “So, what gives? Why did you hate me?”
“Hate you?” Trent spits the words, arching his brows. “No, that’s not it. Not at all.” His eyes dance up and down my body, temporarily paralyzing my breath. “Look at you.” He licks his full lips. “You’re so comfortable.”
“And that’s a problem because…?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I’m not used to it. I hate to admit it, but discomfort has become a part of my life.” Trent shakes his head, a scowl on his face.
“Hey.” I lower my voice. “It’s okay. You’re a busy man.”
“I’m not that busy.” He mutters. “But, being a single parent is hard.”