“Miss Turner? I want some breakfast.”
Cole’s soft voice snapped Audrey out of her reverie. The door was still closed and Dennis was still gone. It was time to start the day and stop mooning over Dennis. Shake it off. He was distracting her from her purpose. Distracting her with that long, taut body, and that sharply carved face–but handsome packaging wouldn’t make him a good partner. Time she remembered that.
“Right,” Audrey said. “To the kitchen, then.”
Cole ran down the hall and through the swinging kitchen door. Audrey started after him, then ducked into Dennis’s office to grab the instruction binder. She could look over their agenda while Cole ate and she drank some coffee.
Coffee. That was her problem. She hadn’t had her morning infusion yet. It wasn’t Dennis that made her feel so dazed and wobbly. It was caffeine shortfall.
Audrey pushed through the swinging kitchen door. In the few short moments that he’d been in the kitchen, Cole had dragged a red barstool across the floor and used it to climb on top of the kitchen counter. He was standing on tiptoe, stretching to reach a brightly colored box on the top shelf.
“Hey, squirrel, get down from there.” Audrey dropped the binder on the breakfast bar and rushed to place steadying hands on Cole’s back.
“I want these.” His fingers knocked against the bottom of the box until it fell to the counter with a clatter. The box popped open and hard candy disks skittered across the white counter like a kaleidoscope turning.
“We don’t have candy for breakfast.”
“Uh-huh, yeah, we do,” Cole said earnestly. “My nana and papa gave it to me and they said it’s all for me.”
Audrey lifted him off the counter and set him on the floor. Cole turned and snatched two fistfuls of sweets.
“No way, buddy. Too early.” She might not agree with all of Dennis’s rules, but they would concur that candy for breakfast was a bad idea. “How about some cereal?”
“Toast.” Cole dropped the candy and yanked the gleaming silver refrigerator until it opened. Together, they gathered the ingredients and popped a slice in the toaster. Audrey began searching for a coffeemaker.
Cole noticed the black binder on the breakfast bar where Audrey had dropped it. “Hey, what’s this?”
“Your daddy made it for me. It’s full of stuff to help me take good care of you.”
Cole climbed up on a red stool and flipped open the binder to the first section. “That’s an R. That’s a T. That’s a—wait, what’s that one again?”
“An M. Let’s read it together.” Audrey paused in the hunt for caffeine and leaned over the breakfast bar. There, on the familiar creamy stationary, was a letter from Dennis. Audrey’s hands grew cold as she remembered the mountains of these notes that had fluttered onto her desk at the school. For months, her mornings had been punctuated by his correspondence, alternately irritating her or making her laugh out loud with their unrelenting demands.
But being in Dennis’s presence somehow made her forget all of that. She wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. Dennis might be gorgeous, but he was still a school daddy. Off limits. Even if she liked him, and maybe she didn’t.
Sighing, Audrey pulled the binder into the space between her and Cole. Audrey read slowly, tracing the words with her fingertip. Cole’s brow furrowed in concentration as he followed along.
“To Miss Turner: Thank you so much for your help with Cole. Ever since his mother passed away, we have had to rely on Nanny Susie and kind people like you to help meet his needs. If not for you, Cole would have had to go stay with my parents.”
“I want to go to Nana and Papa’s house!” Cole shouted. He slapped the memo with both hands, his short fingers splaying flat across the page. His cheeks bloomed splotchy and red with sudden emotion.
Audrey broke off from her reading, shocked at his outburst. “But Cole, you and I are going to play together.”
“No!” He folded his arms across his chest. His face became rigid, locked in a scowl. Audrey had never seen him like this before. At that moment, he looked more like his father than she would have thought possible. And not in a good way.
“But we have all kinds of fun stuff to do. See?” Audrey flipped through several binder pages, looking for that day’s agenda. “You get to play soccer today. You like soccer. Right?” She was pleading with him, a big mistake. She decided to try another tack. “Don’t you remember how much you wanted me to come over here today?”
“Yeah.” He dragged out the syllable.
“Well, I wanted to come over, too. Just as much.”
At that moment, the toast popped up. Cole’s eyes slid over to the toaster and some of the mulishness left his round face. Audrey transferred the hot bread to a plate. Cole moved in closer to watch.
“Can I have purple jelly?” Cole sounded tentative, as if he expected her to say no, even though the jar of gourmet organic fruit spread was already sitting on the counter.
“Yes, you can have purple jelly.”
“Can I do the jelly myself?”
“Only if you don’t get any on your clothes.” Cole grabbed the plate and raced to the breakfast bar, but not before Audrey caught a glimpse of the sly expression that crossed his cherubic face. “I mean it, Cole. Don’t think you can put on your planets shirt if you get jelly on that one.”
“Okay. Will you read the letter from my daddy again?” Cole carefully unscrewed the top of the jar and licked his fingertips clear of a bit of jelly. “Read the whole thing this time. From the start to the end.”
“Okay. Just as soon as you’re done spreading the jelly.”
He dipped the knife in the jar and pulled it free as delicately as if he were defusing a bomb. He dabbed a tiny bit of purple goo on his whole wheat toast and began painting the bread with the tip of the knife.
“You’re doing a great job,” she said.
“I know. My daddy showed me how to do it right.”
Of course. Dennis would certainly not tolerate any spilled jam or purple stains. Audrey had a brief, disheartening image of Dennis scowling at his son and instructing him in proper jelly-spreading techniques. He would probably add a discourse on the benefits of organic grapes and the dangers of margarine while he was at it. Audrey suddenly felt disgusted with herself for forgetting Dennis’s character just because he’d touched her, even if his hand had been so warm and sure and gentle around hers.
“Come on, Miss Turner. Read!”
She read slowly, glancing repeatedly at Cole as he smeared his toast. The tip of his pink tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his task.
“To Miss Turner: Thank you so much for your help with Cole. Ever since his mother passed away, we have to rely on Nanny Susie and kind people like you to help meet his needs. If not for you, Cole would have had to go stay with my parents. For reasons I will not go into, that was an option I was unwilling to exercise. Please call if you need anything at all. Dennis.”
Audrey closed the binder firmly. The note seemed different from his usual instructions. More personal. She couldn’t remember him ever thanking her for anything before, and certainly, he’d never mentioned any family details. But it was so vague, just a brief reference to his wife’s death and that slightly disparaging mention of his parents. And he signed it simply, Dennis. Not, Dennis Delaney. And he’d skipped the usual memo format at the top with her title and his signature. It seemed very puzzling somehow, as if it hinted at greater intimacy without giving much away at all.
I just don’t understand him. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Maybe if she understood him better, she wouldn’t be so flummoxed by his good looks and rare flashes of charm. But she knew so little about him. Nothing about his deceased wife. Nothing about his background. Nothing at all, really, except that he had an almost obsessive need for perfection.
And he was devilishly handsome.
“Cole, what happened to your mommy?” It was a dangerous question, and she knew it. Children were often protected from harsh truths until they were old enough to handle them. But when she’d read the note, Cole had reacted to the mention of his grandparents, not to the mention of his mother’s passing. She hoped she wasn’t violating any of Dennis’s rules. All the same, she deliberately asked only what happened, rather than how Cole’s mother had died.
“She turned into an angel when I was a baby,” he said around a mouth full of toast.
Somehow, that hadn’t been the answer she expected. “Who told you that? Your daddy?”
“No. Nana and Papa told me.” Cole pulled a crust free and dropped it on the plate, obviously worrying about something. “Miss Turner, if you don’t come to play with me, will I go to Nana and Papa’s house?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” What kind of a woman am I? I ask about his mother’s death, and now he’s worried I won’t show up for him, too. “Don’t worry, Cole. I promise, I’ll come over every day until Nanny Susie gets back. Every day that your daddy wants me to come over, I should say.”
Cole paused mid-chew, full of suspicion. “Why wouldn’t Daddy want you to come over?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe some days he’ll watch you when he’s not working.” Cole’s eyes still brimmed with some doubtful, curious emotion she had trouble understanding. Enough of this. Time to lighten the mood. “Or, maybe he’ll fire me!” She laughed, implicitly inviting Cole to do the same.
“Fire you!” His dark eyes widened with delighted shock.
“Yes, for letting you turn into Mister Purple Jelly Cheeks!”
“Mister Purple Jelly Cheeks!” Cole laughed and ran shrieking from the kitchen before Audrey had time to corner the breakfast bar.