Chapter Thirteen
Kyra was stuffed full. She usually didn’t eat so much, but she’d been more than a little disconcerted by that unexpected, sexy, surprising interlude in her kitchen with Dax, for which she’d been totally on board until she remembered all the people waiting for them to return. And then she’d come back to Dax’s cottage and reality had seeped in, and she didn’t know what that interlude had meant, or what a “moment” was, and she’d never been the type of girl who could politely nibble her way through stress. Nope, she was an all-in kind of eater.
Now she could hardly breathe in a dress that had not been too tight only an hour or so before. No one showed any sign of going anywhere—they all seemed to enjoy a claustrophobic baked-burger-and-hot-dog barbecue—but Kyra decided it was time for her and Ruby to go.
“So soon?” Wallace asked.
“I’m working a brunch shift tomorrow,” Kyra said. That was the polite excuse. The real excuse, besides being on the verge of exploding, was that she couldn’t bear to watch Heather fawning over Dax another moment.
“I don’t want to go yet,” Ruby said.
Of course she didn’t—the family from Number Five, the Caldwells, had a boy and a girl around Ruby’s age, and Ruby had been leading the pack.
“It’s getting late,” Kyra said and put her arm around Ruby’s shoulders.
Ruby wrenched out of Kyra’s loose embrace. “I don’t want to go,” she said again, and the tears appeared, and Ruby sank to the floor like a sack of bricks, refusing to move. Kyra had to pull the punishment card in front of everyone, threatening a loss of privileges if she didn’t get up and move. So Ruby sobbed and stomped her way to the door and made sure the screen door slammed behind her.
Kyra was as startled as she was embarrassed. That was a rare display of temper from her usually happy little girl. “She’s tired,” Kyra said.
“Sure, sure,” Janet said sympathetically.
No one else said anything. Not even Diana Caldwell, who Kyra thought might have had her back in this. But then again, her kids weren’t flailing around on the ground. Kyra said a quick good night and thanks, waved to Dax with a quick thanks! then rushed out of the cottage without saying anything more. Like what’s going on here, or are you kissing Heather like that, too, or what does that mean, a “moment,” or any other of the many questions that had drifted through her head while she chowed down on some hot dogs.
It was also worth noting that Dax did not follow Kyra out to ask any of his own questions, either. She didn’t know if that was because he didn’t have any, or if he was so engrossed in yet another of Heather’s stories that he failed to notice her departure.
Kyra was annoyed with herself. This was what she did every time a man showed any interest in her. She’d analyze it to death, and then she’d get that slightly desperate feeling that this was her last and only chance at love because she had a kid and a lousy job. She marched Ruby across the wet grass, reminding herself that regardless of what had happened in her kitchen, only two weeks ago she’d thought Dax was repugnant in a very handsome but grouchy way, and suddenly she was worried that he liked Heather better than her.
She was so caught up in her own cycle of thoughts that she didn’t realize Ruby was still pouting until she ran into her room and slammed the door.
“Be that way,” Kyra muttered. She glanced around her house and sighed at the clutter. She picked up some clothes and shoes and began to put things away while she let Ruby think about it, and about fifteen minutes after their arrival home, she knocked on Ruby’s door with a stack of clothes in her arms.
Ruby opened the door. She was apparently over her mad, because she smiled and held up a picture. “These are my new friends. That’s me,” she said, pointing, “and that’s the girl, and that’s the boy. And the little boy. And Otto.”
She’d drawn some very colorful blobs. “What are their names?” Kyra asked.
Ruby shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
“Okay, sweetie, it’s time to get ready for bed,” Kyra said and handed her some pajamas before moving to her little dresser to put away the rest of her clothes.
“So listen, Ruby,” Kyra said as Ruby struggled out of her dress. “There’s something I want to ask you. Mrs. McCauley said you visit her every day.”
“Not every day, Mommy,” Ruby said, and pulled on her pajama top.
“How many times?”
“A lot.”
Kyra groaned to the ceiling. “You’re not supposed to go up there, remember? I don’t want you bothering people. They have jobs and things to do, and they don’t have time to talk to little girls every day. I want you to stay home with Mrs. Miller so she can keep an eye on you.”
“She sleeps a lot,” Ruby offered. “More than you.” She put on her pajama bottoms.
Jesus, it was even worse than Kyra thought. “Still. You need to stay at home with Mrs. Miller. I’ll talk to her about sleeping so much.” And a lot more. “Okay, let’s get those teeth brushed,” she said and ushered Ruby into the bathroom. Ruby hopped up on the booster stool before the sink and studied herself in the mirror.
Kyra turned to the door, then glanced over her shoulder at Ruby. She was still studying herself, her fingers fluttering in that weird way. “Brush your teeth and get in bed, and I’ll read you a story.”
She moved on, picked up another armload of crap—all hers this time—and carried it into her bedroom to put away.
When she finished, she went back to the bathroom, but Ruby was gone. Kyra found her on the living room floor with her Barbies. “Did you brush your teeth?”
“No.”
Her daughter sounded matter-of-fact and not the least bit apologetic. “I told you to brush your teeth!” Kyra snapped. “I’m too tired for this tonight, Ruby. Get in there,” she said, pointing in the direction of the bathroom, “and brush your teeth!”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to!” Ruby cried, wounded by the admonishment.
“Because you don’t listen.”
“Yes, I do!” she said tearfully.
“Don’t argue with me, just please brush your teeth.”
Kyra waited until she heard the water running, then scooped up the Barbies and returned them to their place in Ruby’s room.
When Ruby finished brushing her teeth, she ran into her room and flung herself into bed, rolling away from the door and putting her back to Kyra.
Kyra sighed. “Do you want a story?”
Ruby shook her head.
That was all right with Kyra. She didn’t feel like reading some stupid bunny-on-a-mission story right now.
She turned out the light and retreated to the bathroom to brush her own teeth. When she’d finished her nightly routine, she flopped onto her bed.
Her thoughts were immediately flooded with that kiss. That damn kiss . . . She felt so sex deprived. The want of it was eating her brain right now, feasting on all her common sense. She even considered taking Dax up on his really ridiculous offer—what was it he said? That he got in and got the job done, something like that, something so completely unappealing that Kyra had to smile. She should have been offended, but she wasn’t. At this moment, getting the job done didn’t sound so bad . . .
Yeah, and then what? What happened after their mutual itch was scratched? Would it be weird between them? Would they go back to being neighbors? Would it be a friends-with-benefits thing or something more? What did she want it to be? Did she want more? She liked Dax, she liked him a lot, but she was juggling so many things right now. Did she want to juggle a relationship, too? Or was this a physical thing with a lot of gratitude for his help piled on top?
She sighed and rubbed her belly. She was starting to feel a little queasy and rolled onto her side and drifted to sleep with a mountain of hot dogs slipping into her last thoughts.
The next morning, Mrs. Miller walked into the house and deposited her lunch bag and purse on the kitchen table as if nothing had happened the last time she was here.
Kyra was ready for her. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“I heard about the lake,” Kyra said. “Were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what? That the kid fell in?”
Kyra was shocked the woman would belittle what had happened. “She was unsupervised and she could have drowned!” she said angrily. “She’s a little girl, Mrs. Miller. I am paying you to watch her.”
Mrs. Miller’s expression turned hard and cold. “Just what are you saying, Carrie?”
“It’s Kyra. I’m saying that you’re not supervising her, and she almost drowned—”
“She didn’t almost drown,” she snapped. “The water where she fell in might have come up to her knees.”
Kyra gaped at her. Did Ruby have to drown for her to be alarmed by it? Did she think it was okay that a kid just ran wild over the neighborhood? “That’s not all. I saw Mrs. McCauley, too,” Kyra said.
“Who?”
“Mrs. McCauley, my landlord. She lives in the big house on the hill,” Kyra said, pointing in the direction of the McCauley house.
Mrs. Miller shrugged. “What about her?”
“She said Ruby comes up there almost every day. Alone.”
Kyra didn’t know what she expected—a denial, perhaps—but Mrs. Miller’s expression didn’t change at all when she said, “It’s not every day. And so what if it is? Those people like it.”
“I can’t believe you,” Kyra said angrily. “You act as if there is nothing wrong with letting Ruby do what she wants! I’m paying you to keep an eye on her. She’s only six. She could get hurt, or stolen—anything could happen.”
Mrs. Miller snorted. “You don’t like it? Hire another babysitter.”
Oh, she was going to hire another babysitter, all right. And she should have done it right then, too, just fired her on the spot . . . but Kyra really needed to work the brunch shift. “I’m asking you respectfully,” she said, shaking now.
Mrs. Miller opened her lunch bag and took out a cinnamon roll. “Asked and noted,” she said and sat her lazy ass down on one of Kyra’s kitchen chairs.
Kyra stormed out of her cottage, muttering to herself.
She was racked with guilt on the drive to work. How could she leave her daughter with that woman for even one more day? But how could she not? She had to work, she had to pay rent, buy food, and she and Ruby needed shoes. She had to get something else lined up, but she needed time to do it. It wasn’t as if affordable child care was falling out of the sky.
She’d talk to Deenie, see if she could maybe watch her tomorrow while Kyra sought out child care.
Kyra’s tumble down the path of guilt didn’t end at work. Deenie wasn’t working the brunch shift, but Megan was. And as usual, Megan was ready to gab as Kyra prepared the table setups. “What did you do this weekend?” she asked.
“Ah . . . we went to a neighborhood barbecue.”
“Barbecue! Brisket?”
“Hot dogs,” Kyra said absently.
“Gross,” Megan said. “You know your daughter could choke on hot dogs, don’t you? You should never give hot dogs to a kid.”
“She’s six, Megan. She’s not two.”
“Not to mention they’re totally carcinogenic,” Megan added, sounding annoyed.
“Hot dogs cause cancer?”
“Please,” Megan said and put her hands together as if she was about to recite a prayer. “Please don’t feed Ruby hot dogs. They’re just so unhealthy and so unsafe.”
“Ohmigod, I’m losing my mind right now,” Kyra said irritably. “It was a hot dog, Megan! It’s not like I fed her something tainted!” She picked up her tray and went into the dining room, miffed that Megan was always commenting on her parenting . . . and yet hearing that drum of guilt in her again. Was it really so bad to let Ruby have a hot dog every once in a while? Was this a new rule that all the other mothers knew about and she didn’t? Couldn’t be—Diana Caldwell’s kids had hot dogs, and she seemed like she’d be the sort of mom on top of things like that.
It was Megan. Somehow Megan always made her feel like a huge parenting fail. It was the way she said things, so full of conviction and judgment. Well, Kyra had enough judgment of her own on her plate. She would never get over the fact that Ruby had fallen into the lake. But she was not going to add hot dog guilt to it.
She made good money during the brunch shift and was out quicker than usual thanks to Chip, another waiter, who told her he’d take care of their joint cleanup work. “I need a little extra time on the paycheck,” he said. So Kyra headed home.
When she turned onto the private road that ran in front of the cottages, she saw Mr. and Mrs. Branson sitting on the porch of Number Six. They each lifted a hand and waved.
Kyra waved back.
The Caldwell kids were playing outside Number Five. Someone had pitched a pup tent for them, and just as Kyra was coasting past, she saw a redheaded child pop out of the tent and run after one of the kids up to the door of the cottage. Kyra stopped. She backed up. She put the car into park, got out, and walked up to the front door of the cottage. She hadn’t even reached the door when it swung open and Ruby emerged, holding a Popsicle.
Kyra stared at her. “What are you doing here, Ruby?”
Ruby took a big lick of the Popsicle. “Playing.”
“Oh, hey, Kyra!” Diana Caldwell filled the doorway behind Ruby. “Look what we found,” she said cheerfully and settled her hands on Ruby’s shoulders.
“Found her?”
“Well, I guess she found us. She saw the kids in the yard and came over to play.”
“By any chance did her babysitter ask if it was okay for her to come over?” Kyra asked and glanced at Ruby.
Ruby avoided her gaze with some studious licking of that damn Popsicle.
“Oh, was she with a babysitter?” Diana asked. “I’m sorry, I assumed you were home.”
Kyra’s pulse began to pound in her temples. She was going to explode with frustration. But she preferred to explode on Mrs. Miller and not Diana Caldwell, so she forced a friendly smile. “Thanks so much for looking after her. I’ll take her home now.”
“She’s welcome to stay—”
“Oh, I think she’s had enough fun for a day,” Kyra said, reaching for Ruby’s hand. “We need to get going.” She waved at Diana as she walked Ruby out to her car. She put her in the backseat, then got in front and handed Ruby a napkin that had fallen out of some fast-food bag. “What were you doing over there?” Kyra asked.
“I was just playing,” Ruby said, still avoiding her gaze.
Kyra took a breath and put the car in gear. “It’s not your fault, pumpkin, and I’m not mad at you. But I need to know—did you ask Mrs. Miller for permission to go?”
“No,” Ruby said. “She was asleep.”
Okay, that was it. Kyra might lose her job, but she wasn’t leaving Ruby with this woman one more moment.
When they reached the cottage, Kyra grabbed her things and her daughter and walked her up to the porch steps. “Will you please go to your room and finish your Popsicle?” she asked. “I need to talk to Mrs. Miller about some grown-up things.”
“I’m not supposed to eat in my room,” Ruby reminded her.
“I know, I know . . . but I’m giving you permission to do it this one time. Okay?”
Ruby shrugged indifferently, slurped on her Popsicle, and went into the house, skipping through the living room. She stopped in the kitchen, held up her treat, and said, “I got a Popsicle!” And then she skipped off to her room.
Kyra put her things down and walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Miller had her purse over her shoulder, her lunch bag on the counter beside her. She stuck out her hand before Kyra could speak. “Thirty bucks,” she said, as if anticipating things were going south.
“Nope,” Kyra said and shook her head, then folded her arms. “I am not paying you to sleep.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I found her three houses from here, Mrs. Miller. I don’t know if you even realized she was gone! And after what happened the last time you were here, it’s unbelievable to me. She could have been in the damn lake again, do you realize that? Did you hear anything I said this morning?”
Mrs. Miller slowly lowered her hand. She picked up her lunch box. “Don’t you get all high and mighty with me,” she said. “I come here regular as sun and make sure your kid doesn’t burn down the house. That’s all you’re paying for, missy. You want someone to hold that girl’s hand and take her swimming? Then pay a decent rate.”
There were so many things Kyra wanted to say, but she dropped her arms and walked to the screen door and opened it. “Please leave. You’re done here.”
“I’m done here?” Mrs. Miller said loudly as she came through the door. “Go ahead, blame me because you’re cheap. But that’s not my problem, it’s yours. I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do for thirty bucks, Miss Priss, but that ain’t enough to entertain a kid.”
Mrs. Miller had no idea where Kyra had come from in her life, or how she’d struggled to make it by herself with a baby, or the horrible jobs and hours she’d endured just to keep Ruby. She was shaking with fury so badly that she could hardly breathe. “Get out,” she said.
“Not without my thirty dollars I won’t.”
Kyra leaned over and grabbed her backpack. She pulled thirty dollars from it and thrust it at Mrs. Miller. “Get out.”
“Gladly.” Mrs. Miller stuffed the money into her purse. “I hate this place, anyway.” She marched down the steps and to her truck. Kyra walked out onto the porch to watch her and assure herself that the woman actually left. And with nearly every step to her truck, Mrs. Miller called out some choice opinions of Kyra.
Kyra was still shaking, her heart slamming into her chest with rage and frustration, her hands digging into her waist. She watched until Mrs. Miller had pulled out and gunned her truck down the road.
Only then did Kyra realize what a bind she was in.
“Everything okay?”
Dax’s voice startled her, and she jerked around to the sound of it. He was at the corner of her porch, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. “How long have you been there?” she asked.
“Just a moment,” he said and came around to the steps. “I saw the two of you and it didn’t look good. I thought you might need some help.”
“Then I guess you heard her describe what sort of mother I am.”
“What I heard was a crazy woman yelling obscenities.”
Kyra sighed heavenward. “Yep. Well, I’m now officially babysitterless.”
“You’ll find one.”
“It’s not that easy. I—”
Her phone rang. Kyra fished it out of her pocket. The number was the Lakeside Bistro. She held up a finger to Dax and took the call.
“Hello?”
“Kyra, glad I caught you.” It was Randa Lassiter.
“Hi, Randa.”
“So listen, James called in sick. Can you cover tonight’s shift? I know you just got off the brunch, but I need a server, and Sundays are one of our busier nights.”
“Oh, ah . . .” Kyra quickly debated it. Of course she’d finally get a night shift at the moment she fired the babysitter. But Kyra wanted the work; she really needed the money. And who knew if she’d be able to take any shifts next week now that she had no child care? She glanced up at Dax, who was casually waiting. “I would love to. But I need to line up a babysitter.”
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Randa said.
“Right . . . can you hold on a minute? I might have a solution.” Kyra covered the phone with her hand.
Dax’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said.
“Dax! Please! I need the money. I may not be able to work at all next week until I find a babysitter.”
Dax was still shaking his head. “I’m not a babysitter, Kyra.”
“Just this once,” she begged him. “I’m in a bind here.”
He looked caught, and Kyra felt a twinge of guilt for having caught him. “I mean, unless you’re going to the jazz club tonight,” she said, giving him the out.
He frowned. “No jazz.”
“Sunday nights are really busy,” she said. “I could make some good money.”
Dax groaned heavenward. “What time?” he asked, his voice full of resignation.
“Thank you so much,” Kyra said earnestly and took her hand from the phone. “I can do it, Randa!”
“Great! Be here by five?”
That was an hour and a half from now. “Yep. See you then.” She clicked off and smiled at Dax.
His gray eyes moved over her face. “Don’t smile at me like that, woman.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.” He put his hands on his hips and looked to the ground. “A guy can only take so much.”
She walked down the steps to him and dipped down a little so she could look him in the eye. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said sincerely.
“That’s true, you can’t. But you keep trying.” He lifted his head and looked at her in a way that made her skin tingle all over. Like she was the Popsicle.
“Do you want me to bring her to you?” Kyra asked.
“Nope. I’ll hang out here. That way she’s got her toys. And you probably need half a dozen things fixed in that cottage you don’t even know about.”
Kyra was smiling again. She really liked this man. A lot. But she sincerely wished that she didn’t need so much of his help. “You’re a good guy, Dax. This is yet another bind you’re helping me with. I owe you.”
His gaze flicked to her mouth and lingered there. “You do. And I’m going to collect.”
Now, in addition to the tingling, she felt a little light-headed. She would like nothing better. “Promise?”
“Yep.” His eyes turned a very sexy shade of smoke—hot and intense and locked in on her. She could feel the heat rising in her skin, her pulse beginning to race.
“Well, okay,” she said. “I, ah . . . I better get ready to go.” She started to back up the steps.
Dax silently watched her, his gaze still fixed on her. She was so turned on by the idea of him collecting his debt that her heart was jackhammering wildly with anticipation. “About an hour?” she suggested.
He nodded.
Kyra turned around and darted into her house before she did something like lunge at him to rip his clothes off and risk missing her shift.
Once inside, she walked quickly to the kitchen and braced her hands against the tabletop, taking deep draws of air. Work was the furthest thing from her mind right now. She’d never had a man look at her like that, with such ferocious desire. Never. And she’d felt it just as fiercely.
“Mommy, what do I do with the stick?”
Ruby had appeared at the kitchen door, and the remnants of the Popsicle had dripped down her dress and were all over her mouth.
“Oh, wow,” Kyra said, her thoughts slowly swimming to the surface of her reality. “We better get you cleaned up. Guess what?”
“What?”
“I have to go to work and Dax is going to babysit.”
Ruby gasped. “Awesome!” she shouted.
Yes, it was awesome, and Kyra couldn’t wait for her shift to be over so she could pay that debt.