Pride family sandwich

Stella

“Good morning, Cannon,” I sing-song casually.

“Hey, buddy, we were just getting up, why don’t you go down to the kitchen. Stella’s going to make you breakfast.”

“And then we’re going swimming,” I add crossing my fingers and toes that he takes off to find his swimming trunks.

“Yay! Swimming! Tella’s goin’ swimming!” he yells and races out the door and down the hall.

“Good save, I can’t believe I forgot to lock the door.”

“Thanks, being in the throes of passion will do that to you sometimes.”

“Do what?”

“Make you do things you wouldn’t have done otherwise.”

His body stiffens next to me, and I realize my bad choice of words.

“I didn’t mean it the way you’re thinking, I mean, I'll admit I think I was a little coerced into making the decision to stay, but I don’t regret it, yet.”

“You won’t regret it ever if I have anything to say about it.”

“Go on now, get to work before he comes back.”

He holds my eyes for a moment, looking back and forth from one to the other like he’s trying to convince himself that I’m not going to change my mind. When he comes to whatever conclusion he comes to, he slides out of me and rolls out of bed.

I watch his fine backside walk to the bedroom door and lock it before returning to the bedside where he offers me his hand. “Come on, I need a shower now.”

“Didn’t you shower this morning? You were dressed and ready to go.”

“I was, and I did, but I want to do it again with you.”

“Ash, we don’t have time to…”

“I’m not suggesting we have more sex, not right now anyway. I just want to shower with you, come on.”

I scoot to the edge of the giant king-size bed, and he helps me up.

True to his word we shower together without having sex. He kissed me and washed my hair and my body, but he did it with a warm, soft affection instead of the hot out of control passion we share in bed.

I returned the favor, loving every second of running my soapy hands over his skin and my fingers through his hair. When we finished, we dressed, him in his button-up shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots and me in a bikini.

I haven’t been swimming in years. There’s no public swimming pool in Redwater. Even if there were, I wouldn’t have had time to go to it, long hours in the saddle checking up on cattle doesn’t leave much leisure time. I can’t say I’ll miss that.

I have no idea how I’m going to break this news to my parents. They’re going to freak out. They might even disown me, but as Ash says, I have to start living my life for me instead of living it for everyone else.

I hadn’t planned on accepting Ash’s invitation, deal, job offer, or whatever it is, but at that moment I knew I couldn’t leave him and go back to my old life. What sane woman says no to living with the sexiest man alive? Oh my God, that’s what this is, isn’t it?

I’ve been thinking about the whole thing as being Ash’s girlfriend, a job opportunity, and a chance to go to college, but this is moving in with a man, living with him, sharing his bed and taking care of his child. And I’m doing it less than two weeks after meeting him. I’ve lost my damn mind.

Now I understand why Ash keeps his nannies out of his bed at arm's length. The line between work and relationship can get pretty blurry. I’m starting to think Cannon’s not the only problem with the nanny situation.

Why didn’t Ash just hire a fat old grandma nanny who isn’t interested in sleeping with him or being part of the family? Maybe he did, who knows? Maybe fat grandma nannies fall in love with Ash Pride, too? I’ll bet they do.

I can see why all of that is upsetting to Cannon. He’s just a little kid, but he can sense when someone isn't being straightforward. If all his nannies were interested in Ash, maybe he felt second best, a means to an end. Poor kid.

I grab my swimsuit cover up and slip it over my head, slide my feet into my flip-flops and make my way down to the kitchen. I haven’t cooked in his kitchen yet. He has a chef that does all the cooking, housekeepers who clean everything before it has time to get dirty, drivers, personal assistants, gardeners galore, pool people, plural, not just one, and countless people working outside the house on the ranch.

I’ve got a speech prepared for his chef Consuela. I’d like to convince her that I am capable of whipping up some waffles by myself. But, as the queen of the kitchen she’s the boss, if she says no then I’m out of luck.

“Hi, Tella, Wayla’s not here, are you making me breakfast?” Cannon asks when I enter the bright sunlit kitchen. I’ve never been much of a cook, but if I were, this is the kitchen I would wish for. The island is the size of Texas, big and square with a farm sink on one side and six bar chairs on the other side. The room is open and bright, and all of the cupboards are white with glass fronts. You can see what’s inside and everything has been organized like someone with OCD stocks the shelves. There are commercial grade stainless steel appliances and a wine refrigerator bigger than our regular fridge at home.

It’s probably a typical billionaire’s kitchen, but Ash is the first billionaire I’ve ever met so I wouldn’t know for sure.

“Do you know where she is?”

“Nope,” he says smiling like he knows something he’s not telling me. I wonder if Ash told her to take a hike so I could make Cannon’s breakfast myself.

“Well then, yes, how about some waffles?”

I watch him climb onto one of the barstools. He slips, and I take a step forward but stop when he rights himself. When he’s on the seat, he sits on his knees leaning forward on the island with his arms crossed on the marble counter. “Like Eggo’s?” he asks.

“No, well, yeah, sort of but not in the toaster. Haven’t you ever had homemade waffles?”

He shakes his head no. “Wayla says they got too much sugar and sugar makes me bad.”

That pisses me off. Just because he used to act out didn’t mean he was bad and sugar isn’t always the root of all evil.

“Well, Consuela’s not here, and I think sugar is okay in moderation. Do you know what moderation means?”

“Nope.”

“It’s when you have a little of something once in a while.”

“So I get waffles?”

“Yep, you do. I just have to look around and find a few things. Maybe you can help me?”

“Okay,” he says, hopping off the stool and rushing to my side.

We work together opening every cupboard looking for a waffle iron, and in the fridge for the ingredients we need. When we have everything I sit him on the counter, and we go about making a colossal mess, and we have a blast doing it.

Cannon is smart, he catches on to things fast. When we are done, he knows which measuring spoon is the teaspoon and which is the tablespoon. He can also measure out a half cup of milk by himself. I love how his eyes light up with pride when I tell him he’s doing a good job, it’s like nobody’s ever done that before.

At the end of our breakfast extravaganza, we look at each other and then the mess in the kitchen. “We have to clean it up before we can go swimming.”

“Ugh, I’m full, I don’t wanna.”

“I know, but part of cooking is cleaning up your mess. Come on, if we do it together we’ll be done in no time.”

“Okay,” he drags himself off the chair and takes my hands pulling me out of mine. We work side by side rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher and wiping down the counters.

“See? Now we swim.”

“Yay! Swimming!”

“Wait, hold on, I never asked your daddy, can you swim or do you need help?”

He scrunches up his face in a you gotta be kidding me look, that is identical to one I’ve seen on his father’s face before. “I can swim, I don’t need no help.”

“I don’t need any help.”

“You don’t?”

I chuckle, “No, I mean, it’s not I don’t need no help, you say I don’t need any help.”

He thinks for a moment, and I’m not sure if he gets it or not but he bolts through the kitchen on his way to the stairs that lead down to the indoor pool. It’s late April, and the outdoor pool is full, but it’s too chilly to swim out there yet. “Let’s swim!” he hollers taking off down the steps.

“Wait for me,” I call out, but he’s gone. I hope he wasn’t lying about being able to swim. Maybe I should call Ash and verify that information?

Ash’s indoor pool feels just like an outdoor pool. Surrounded by an enormous clear structure, it allows you to see everything in the yard like you’re outside, only the difference in the temperature is probably twenty degrees, and the water is as warm as a tub.

The sun is shining outside. Therefore, it’s shining in here, too, so bright in fact I’m blinded until I hold my hand above my eyes and squint down the stairs. Cannon’s running at top speed toward what I believe is the deep end. “Cannon, wait!” I yell down to him rushing down the steps, but I’m not fast enough. He flies off the edge of the pool yelling, “Cannonball!” which would be pretty damn funny, because of his name, if I was confident in his swimming skills. Seconds later his butt hits the surface and water splashes everywhere when he sinks into the pool followed by a kerplunk sound.

I reach the edge of the pool at the same time he resurfaces and watch him swim like a fish to the ladder closest to me with my heart in my throat.

“Did I splash?”

“Uh, yeah, you did but…”

“Was it big?” he asks treading water next to the ladder like a pro.

“It was but…”

“Daddy showed me how cuz my name is Cannon.”

“That’s clever, I like it, but you scared me.”

His little forehead wrinkles and he grabs ahold of the ladder. “Why?”

“Because I wasn’t down here with you and if something happened to you I’d never forgive myself.”

“I can swim,” he says to me like I don’t speak English and I can’t help but laugh.

“Yes, I see that. Do you think from now on you could wait for me to get down to the pool before you do your cannonball? You know, so I can see it better.”

His eyes light up, and he hoists himself out of the water to give me a repeat performance, and that is how our morning goes. Cannon does his cannonballs and dives off the diving board, and both of us swim around searching for diving rings on the bottom of the pool.

After searching for a long time for a white diving ring that blends in with the water so much, it’s nearly invisible, I decide to get out and look from the deck. I swim to the ladder, and when I break the surface, Ash is standing over me wearing his swim trunks and looking all kinds of sexy. I stare as his ripped abdominal muscles flexing when he takes ahold of the ladder, and I try not to drool.

“Hey, has he worn you out yet?”

I tear my eyes from his perfect body and twist around to look at Cannon who is doing his millionth flip off the diving board and sigh. “Well, I’ve got twenty-five years on him so, yeah, he’s giving me a run for my money. But I’m not complaining, we’ve been having fun.”

“Let me help you out,” he says offering me his hand. I take it even though I don’t need the help. I’ve been climbing in and out of this pool all morning by myself just fine but I'm dying to feel his touch.

He turns me around, my back to his front and slides his hands around my waist propping his chin on my shoulder. “I missed you.” He kisses my neck and nibbles on my ear igniting a fire between my legs.

“You were only gone a couple of hours.”

“You’re supposed to say I missed you, too, baby.”

I laugh and turn in his arms, “I did miss you, I’m just giving you shit.”

“Daddy, watch this!” Cannon yells right before performing a perfect front flip into the water.

“I should have asked you how well he swims. He almost gave me a heart attack with his first cannonball in the deep end.”

“Oh yeah, he’s been swimming since he was a baby. I was always afraid of the water when I was little. I didn’t want him to be, so I started him swimming right away.”

Cannon’s head pops up out of the water and Ash cups his hand to the side of his mouth and yells “Atta boy, good job!” Cannon smiles a proud smile and swims to the edge of the pool to get out and do it again.

“I got him for a while. You go rest.”

“I’m going to take you up on that offer for a few minutes. He’s full of energy, or I guess it could be the sugary waffles we made for breakfast.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t listen to anything anyone in that house says to you about Cannon. They’ve all got their theories as to why he’s such a handful, and none of them are right.”

“No one was talking about him. He told me Consuela says he can’t have sugar because he’s bad, and that kinda broke my heart.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a small sympathetic smile. “You’re good for him, for us. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you agreed to stay. Now go on, rest, and I’ll wear him out some more.”

“Good luck.” I make my way to the lounge chairs where Cannon and I spread our towels out hours ago and collapse onto mine.

It’s almost noon before I realize I haven’t had a cigarette all day. Now I wish I hadn’t thought about it because thinking about it made me want one. It’s a nasty habit I picked up from the ranch hands. Maybe I’ll add giving up cigarettes to my list of life changes.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I hear someone ask me from behind. I turn and find the little blonde housekeeper, whose name escapes me, standing there like a waitress waiting for my order.

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” She nods and approaches the pool to ask Ash and Cannon the same question. I am thirsty, parched actually, but I don’t feel right asking someone to bring me something I can get on my own. I’ll wait until she’s out of sight and dash up to the kitchen. I know it’s stupid, she’s going to come back with something for them, it wouldn’t be a big deal to have her bring one more drink, but I keep quiet.

I admire Ash as he pulls himself out of the pool without the ladder, water sluicing over every lean muscle on his body. Then I look around through the glass at the perfectly manicured grounds and the gorgeous blue sky that meets the prairie far in the distance. How the hell did I get here? This place, this life, these people, they’re downright perfect, or at least they are to me. You got lucky, Stella Deardon, really lucky.

“Stella, hey, you still with us, darlin’?” Ash calls from the diving board snapping me from my thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry, daydreaming.” I smile, and he cocks his head to the side like he’s trying to read my mind.

“Whenever you’re ready to go up just give me the word, I think he’s about done.” He points at Cannon who is floating on an inner tube in the middle of the pool.

“Good work, I’m ready if you are.”

He cups his hand on the side of his mouth and hollers at Cannon, “We’re going in for lunch, buddy, start making your way out of the pool.”

Then he raises his hands over his head and arcs his body into a perfect dive slicing through the water with no splash, the opposite of his son’s cannonballs.

When we are all wrapped up in our towels and trudging up the stairs to the kitchen, Cannon asks to take a nap and Ash stops walking and shakes his head. “You took my son and replaced him with an alien pod person from space, didn’t you?”

“Who, me? I did no such thing.” I play along and gasp lifting my hand to my chest. “My son has never, in his four and a half years on this earth, asked for a nap.”

“I’m not a pod, Daddy, I’m sleepy.” Cannon pulls his towel tight around him, and I notice that he looks a little pale. I crouch down to look him over. “Do you feel okay, honey?” He shakes his head, and I press the back of my hand on his forehead like I’ve seen my mother do to my brother and sister when she thought they might be sick. She never did this to me because I’ve never been sick a day in my life, healthy as a horse dad always said.

“He’s hot, fever hot.” I look up at Ash and his playful expression changes to concern.

“He is?” He checks for himself and scoops him up in his arms to carry him the rest of the way up the stairs.

“When did you start feeling crummy?” I ask, brushing a dark curl from his forehead as we walk. He shrugs and snuggles into Ash’s chest.

“I’ll take him upstairs. I have a thermometer and some liquid Ibuprofen in my bathroom, can you grab it for me?”

“Sure, what do you think it is?”

“I don’t know, he’s never sick.” He sounds worried, which in turn makes me worry. I don’t know anything about kid’s illnesses, and I’m supposed to be his nanny? Maybe I haven’t thought this through well enough. Ash thinks I’m a natural, but I’m a little panicked, and this is only day one on the job. I’m feeling more like an inexperienced nanny who needs a cigarette.

Upstairs, Ash turns into Cannon’s bedroom. I continue down the hall to Ash’s room to grab the thermometer and Ibuprofen. Ash’s bathroom has a lot of cabinets, it takes me a few tries to locate the items, but when I do I dash back down the hall to Cannon’s room.

Ash has him changed into pajamas and tucked into bed. I hand him the thermometer, and he swipes it across his forehead and down behind his ear. “I’ve never seen a thermometer like that, what happened to the ear ones?”

“It does both. Shit,” he says, showing me the tiny screen. 104˚ F, shit is right, I may not know anything about kids and sickness, but that’s a high temp. Think, think, think, Stella, what did mom do when Jack Jr. or Charlotte got a fever? The tub.

“I think we should put him in the tub, my mom used to do that, but not cold water just tepid.”

“Tepid?”

“Yeah, room temperature or something, I’m not sure, but I know it’s not supposed to be cold.”

“Stay with him. I’ll run a bath.”

“Okay.” I sit down on the bed next to a very hot little boy. “I’m sorry you don’t feel good, does your tummy hurt or your head?”

His eyes are closed, but he nods, “Uh huh, both.”

“Want me to take off your blanket?” Another nod. I fold back his covers, and he throws his arms over his head. Poor guy looks miserable.

Ash returns and scoops him up in his arms to carry him to the en suite bathroom leaving me unsure of what to do with myself. He’s not my little boy, but I’m supposed to be his nanny, should I go in and supervise or let his daddy take care of him? I think I’ll wait here, if he asks for help I’ll help.

I hear the water shut off and Cannon complain about sitting in the water, a total 360º from an hour ago when he was diving into the pool. The bottle of Ibuprofen is still in my hand. I check the directions on the side of the bottle. I estimate that Cannon weighs about forty pounds and measure out the correct dose into a cup on top of the bottle.

“How long do I leave him in here?” Ash calls out.

Crap, I don’t know. “Um, let me look it up, I’m not sure.”

I Google how long but find no results, only that you shouldn’t let a child shiver in the tub.

“I can’t find anything that says how long, but if he’s shivering take him out.”

“Okay, five minutes and I’ll get him out then, can you measure him a teaspoon of Ibuprofen?”

“Already did, do you want me to bring it in?” I have no idea what’s appropriate and what’s not as far as a nanny being in a little boy's bathroom goes.

“Yeah.”

In the bathroom, Ash is kneeling at the side of the tub with one arm under Cannon’s neck cradling him in the water. I hand him the medicine cup, and he holds it to Cannon’s lips. He whines and turns his head away. “It’ll make you feel better. You need to take it, buddy.”

“Should we call a doctor?” I ask.

“No, I don't think so, not unless we can’t bring his temp down ourselves.”

Cannon surrenders and lets Ash pour the medicine into his mouth. He hands me the cup, “Can you pass me a towel? I think I’ll get him out. He’s starting to shiver a little bit.”

I swipe a thick navy blue towel off the top of a stack of towels on a rack by the sink and hand it to him. He wraps him up, and I watch with mounting worry. Shivering isn’t good. Google said that might make his temp go up. God, I hope that medicine works.

Ash stands Cannon on wobbly legs to dry him off, and out of nowhere, he vomits all over the sexiest man alive. “Oh my gosh.” I cover my mouth and almost laugh at the shocked expression on Ash’s face. He recovers fast though, faster than I would have. “You feel better, buddy?”

“A little.”

“I think I’m going to need a towel, too.”

“Oh, sure, of course.” I grab another towel and hand it to him. Cannon is clean and dry. The vomit was unfortunately for Ash, of the projectile variety. “I’ll take him to bed, you, uh… you get cleaned up.” I bite my lip, his son is sick, and he’s covered in orange Ibuprofen puke, this isn’t funny, but for some reason I’m finding it hard to suppress my laughter.

“Thanks.” He takes the towel and starts to clean up the mess, and I take the clean boy, not a fair trade, but I’m okay with it.

“I frew up, Tella.” Cannon murmurs against my neck.

“I know, honey. Now maybe you’ll feel better.”

I lay him in his bed on his side and slip in spooning behind him and pull the sheet over us. His little body is shivering, and he’s moving his feet around under the sheet like my sister used to do when she had the stomach flu. She said it helped keep her from vomiting. If that’s why he’s doing it, I hope it works.

The shower switches on and after a short time off. Ash appears in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else. He stops and stares at us in bed, and for a second I feel like I’ve done something wrong.

Maybe snuggling with Cannon when he has a fever is a bad idea? Then he walks toward us and switches out the light and slides in behind me making me the center of a Pride family sandwich, and I decide I like being in a Pride family sandwich, I like it a lot.