Chapter Seventeen

Scarlet

“I thought maybe you forgot about me now that you’re a working girl and all,” Heather says, sitting back in the plastic chair. Her hair is even worse than before, and she has a bruise on her cheek.

“What happened?” I ask, ignoring her subtle jab.

She shrugs. “Kickball got a little rough in the yard.”

“You’re allowed to play kickball?” I shake my head. “That’s not the point. Please don’t get in fights.”

“Seriously, Scar? Like I want to get in fights?”

I let out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Just…don’t get into fights.”

Heather rolls her eyes. “How’s the new job? Are you ready to slit your wrists yet?”

“No. It’s not bad at all. I kinda like it.”

Heather cocks an eyebrow. “You hate kids. This guy must be loaded for you to say you like being a nanny for a rich, spoiled brat.”

Her words piss me off, and I try hard not to let myself recognize it. Because you only get upset when someone insults someone you care about. “He doesn’t have the money I thought he did. And the kid isn’t spoiled or bratty at all. He’s sweet.”

“Are you fucking him? He must have one magic cock for you to hang around now.”

I want to be fucking Wes. I have no doubt his cock is magic. “Nope. Not sleeping with him.”

“You mean not yet, right? That’s how you pull your tricks, isn’t it? Sex and blackmail are like your claim to fame.”

“They’re not,” I say, fully aware of another visitor eavesdropping. I get it, our conversation is unorthodox at best, but geez, be a little discreet.

“So what are you going to do? We need money.”

“My job.”

Heather’s eyebrows push together, and she stares at me for a good few seconds. “Wait. You took a job as a nanny for a rich couple so you could con them out of their money, but you’re just going to be a fucking nanny and earn minimum wage?”

Hearing her say it out loud makes me realize how terrible a person I am. “I’m doing the job I was hired to do. And it’s not a rich couple. Wes is a single dad.”

“Ohh, his name is Wes. You must be hot for him or something. Because my badass big sister doesn’t work petty jobs.”

I roll my eyes. “Stop bragging about me to your prison friends, okay? You’re going to get me caught or something.”

“Please.” She runs a hand through her butchered hair. Fixing it is the first thing I’m going to do once she’s out of here.

“And I don’t get hot for people. I think all that love shit is that just that: shit.”

Heather drums her fingers on the table. “Have you seen Dad lately?”

“Yeah. I saw him before I came here.”

“How’d he look today?” she asks apprehensively.

“Okay. He has a big bump on his head from falling face first out of his wheelchair. I guess he was reaching for something and hit the floor.” I rub my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “I was able to talk to the doctor today about switching medications. I don’t want him to be drugged up, but something needs to change so he doesn’t bust his head open.”

“Yeah, we need to get him into a better place with more staff.”

“Oh, that would help for sure. But places like that are expensive.”

Heather looks down at the table, dropping her I don’t give a shit attitude. She knows the stunt she pulled that got her arrested took away a lot from Dad. I spent money on her lawyer, and she obviously can’t work and contribute to the medical bills anymore.

“Why do you have so many scratches on your hands?” she asks.

“Kittens.”

“Awww, I want a kitten. Are they at the house?”

“No, Wes—my boss—has a sister who really likes cats. We hung out yesterday.” I say it almost like a confession, because Heather knows how far from normal this is for me. After picking up Jackson from school, I met Quinn and Emma at the farmers’ market downtown. I really like her, which surprised me more than anyone. Never in a million years would I think I’d be talking and laughing with someone like Quinn.

“You’re really making yourself at home. I thought one of your cardinal rules was not to get involved and make personal attachments or whatever.”

I shake my head, stomach tightening. “This isn’t my usual situation. I told you, Wes doesn’t have a trust fund. I don’t know…” I pick at the lint that’s stuck to the sleeves of my sweater, angling myself away from the chick who’s still looking at me. Judge away, bitch. You can’t be much better considering we’re both visiting someone in prison. “I’ll figure it out.”

Heather lets out a huff. “Do it fast. I’m almost out of money, and I really like being able to buy snacks.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I’m glad you have your priorities in check.”

*

“Is everything okay?” Wes asks softly. We just finished dinner, and I’ve hardly said a word throughout the meal. Going back to the south side, seeing my sister and my dad, and walking down the streets I’ve haunted since I was old enough to venture out on my own…it reminded me who I am.

Of the shit I’ve done.

And all the thoughts I’ve wrestled down are fighting to come up. To remind me how shitty of a person I am.

That there is no such thing as redemption.

“Yeah, just…just thinking.” I force a smile.

“Okay.” He doesn’t believe me, but he’s not going to press it. His phone buzzes again, and I eye it.

“You’re mister popular tonight.”

He flips it over and glances at the text. “It’s my brothers trying to get me to go out to the bar tonight.”

“On a Wednesday?”

“Yeah. There’s a twenty-first birthday celebration going on, and it’s always entertaining to watch.”

“You should go,” I tell him. “I’m here to look after Jackson after he’s asleep.”

Wes considers it for a whole two seconds. “Honestly, I feel bad going out.”

“Don’t. I’m here, and if you put Jackson to bed, then it’s not like you’re missing out on time with him, which is what I think you feel bad about, right?”

He smiles. “Right. They have been bugging me for ages. And I’ll only stay for an hour.”

“Stay as long as you’d like. I have a wild night planned, and having the law here is going to cramp my style.”

Wes laughs. “Then maybe I should stay.”

I gather the plates from the table and take them to the sink. “It’s going to get crazy up in here. It’ll start with me singing off-key to Def Leppard and will end with tea and a few more chapters of a rather steamy werewolf-vampire romance.”

“You like Def Leppard?”

“I do. Motley Crue, KISS, and Skid Row will be on repeat as well.” I turn on the sink to rinse the dishes. “You sound surprised. Are you judging me, Mr. Dawson?”

“I am. I am judging you hard, and I will admit you do not look like someone who’d be a fan of 80s hair bands.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Apparently so.”

I laugh and start loading the dishwasher. “Don’t be mad if I teach Jackson the words to ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me.’”

“Oh, he already knows them.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Weston comes up behind me and grabs a plate from the sink to put into the dishwasher. “Add in Bon Jovi, Poison, Van Halen, and Ratt and you’ve pretty much named my whole playlist.”

“Did we just become best friends?”

“You like 80s rock and you made a Stepbrothers reference? It’s like you’re not real.”

I laugh, finding twisted humor in his words. I’ve never been this real with someone before.

“I’m not. You’re imagining everything right now. It’s all a dream.”

“At least it’s a good one.”

Dammit, Weston…if only you knew.

His phone rings, and he wipes his hands on a towel with a sigh.

“Your brothers really want you to go out.”

“They won’t stop until I do.”

“It’s cute, you know. And nice to see you all still be close as adults.”

“So close I’m going to send this call to voice—oh, it’s my mom. Never mind.” I finish loading the dishwasher as he talks to his mom, and it sounds like she’s stopping by to drop something off.

“Remember how I said my mom likes buying Jackson clothes?”

I start the dishwasher and grab a rag to wipe down the counter. “Yeah.”

“She’s bought ‘a few things’ and is bringing them over.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet.”

“Hey, Jackson!” Wes calls, and Jackson comes in from the living room. “Grammy is bringing you something.”

“A kitten?”

I can’t help but laugh.

“No, not a kitten.”

“Oh, man!” Jackson throws his head back dramatically. “But I really, really want one.”

“You should let him get a kitten,” I say, flashing Wes a sweet smile. “We played with them yesterday, and they’re so sweet.”

“I’ll think about it,” Wes says flatly, and Jackson starts jumping up and down. He runs back into the living room to look out the window for his grandma.

“The kittens are cute,” Wes agrees.

“They are so stinking cute, and oh my God, your sister’s house is huge,” I blurt, and it feels good to finally say it out loud.

Wes laughs. “Yeah, it’s…it’s something.”

“She has enough room for more cats.”

“Don’t encourage her,” he chuckles and goes to get the vacuum. We work together to get the kitchen cleaned up, falling into a rhythm without even meaning to. The front door opens, and Mrs. Dawson steps in, carrying two large shopping bags.

“Hi, Scarlet,” she says, setting the bags down. Jackson drags one into the living room and dumps it out, sorting through his clothes. There are new figures for his farm set at the bottom of the second bag, and Jackson races up the stairs to put them in his barn.

Wes’s phone starts buzzing again, and this time it is his brothers.

“Who’s texting you so much?” Mrs. Dawson asks, trying to look over Wes’s shoulder at his phone. He’s too tall to get a look.

“Dean, Logan, and Owen. They’ve been annoying me all night about going out with them.”

“You should!” Mrs. Dawson says right away. “Both of you should. I’ll stay and put Jackson to bed.” She looks at me and smiles. “He told me you’re more fun, but I do miss that little rascal.”

“It’s a school night,” Wes counters.

“I know. I can get him to bed. You should go out. You don’t,” his mom says gently. “And you should.”

“You’re encouraging me to go to a bar on a weekday. Such good parenting, Mom.”

Mrs. Dawson laughs. “Take that as a sign of how much you need to get out of the house. And I’m sure Scarlet would appreciate it too, right?”

“Uh, right,” I agree, even though a quiet night alone not being able to sleep due to excessive amounts of guilt was what I had on my agenda. “I’m curious to see this bar too.”

“Fine,” Weston huffs. “But only for an hour. I do have to work tomorrow.”

“Let me go get changed,” I say and dash up the stairs. Usually, if I go to a bar, I’m pulling out all the stops. But tonight, I’m brushing through my messy hair, putting on just enough makeup to look presentable, and am wearing leggings.

Scratch that. I’m wearing a v-neck black sweater dress that hugs my curves and shows the perfect amount of cleavage. I do enjoy dressing up for myself every now and then. Not wanting to keep Wes or his mom waiting, I hurry out of my room.

Wes and Jackson are coming up the stairs right as I step into the hall.

“He wants me to give him a bath,” Wes says before he sees me. He does a double-take, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to see his reaction.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll try to be fast. Give us twenty minutes.”

Jackson races ahead, already stripping out of his clothes. Twenty minutes is all I need to put on more makeup and curl my hair. I finish getting ready a few minutes after Wes and Jackson are downstairs.

“Wow!” Jackson says when he sees me. “Your hair is so bouncy.”

I run my hand over a curl. “Yeah, I guess it is. Do you like it or is it too bouncy?”

“I like it! You look like a princess!”

“Thank you. And you look super cute in those Mickey Mouse jammies.”

Jackson narrows his eyes. “I’m not cute. I’m handsome.”

“Ohhh, I’m sorry,” I say with a laugh. “You are very handsome.”

Jackson beams and looks at Wes. “Like Daddy.”

I can’t disagree. Wes is very handsome. He changed too, and the dark jeans and gray Henley shirt look so good on him.

“We won’t be out too long,” Wes tells his mom, dropping down to his knees to give Jackson a hug and a kiss. “Be good for Grammy. And don’t stay up too late. You have school in the morning.”

“Yay, school!” Jackson throws his arms around Wes, hugging him goodbye. I grab my coat and put on my favorite over-the-knee boots and follow Wes outside.

“You look nice,” I tell him, looking over my shoulder at him.

He looks a little surprised by the compliment. “Thanks. And you…you look beautiful.” The headlights of the Jeep flash as he unlocks it. I turn around, twisting the strap of my purse in my hands, and look at Wes. There’s an undeniable hunger in his eyes, and I know it’ll only take one move to be devoured.

I part my lips, eyeing Wes up and down. He steps in, loose stones on the pavement rolling under his feet. The chill in the air starts to disappear the closer he gets, and I want so badly to reach out and pull him to me. He hesitates, holding my gaze for a moment.

And then he steps around, going to the driver’s side of the Jeep. I exhale heavily, just now realizing that my heart is racing. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s not like it’s been that long since I’ve had sex that I’m desperate to hook up with the first attractive man I can find. He’s my boss. We can’t just hook up and go on like everything is fine and dandy the next day.

And really…I don’t want to hook up with him. I want more, but I know Wes wouldn’t date someone like me. Not the real me.

*

“Something tells me he’s not going to make it through the first three shots, let alone the twenty-one he wants to do,” Logan laughs, wiping up a spilled drink from the wooden surface of the bar.

“People still try that?” I ask.

Logan nods. “They do. We’d cut them off before they get close, but I’ve never seen anyone get past four shots in a row like that.” He shakes his head. “It wasn’t pretty.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I actually never thought about that before. You probably have your fair share of vomit to clean up.”

“We really try to cut people off before they get to that point, but it’s not always possible. Luckily most people somehow get outside and puke in the parking lot. It’s easy to hose away.”

“Glamorous.”

Logan laughs and steps away to take drink orders from two girls who just walked up. Wes is throwing darts with Dean, and I turn around to watch for a minute. The bar is pretty crowded for a Wednesday, even without the birthday party. The bar itself is amazing and much bigger than I imagined.

“Do you want a drink?” Logan asks, coming back over.

“Sure. Do you have wine?”

“We do.

“Give me a glass of whatever’s cheapest,” I say

“You don’t want what’s cheapest. It’s shit.”

I laugh, looking Logan over. Physically, he looks exactly like his twin. They wear their hair the same and probably share clothes. But there’s a distinct difference between the two, with the biggest being how obviously Logan is crushing on fellow bartender, Danielle. I’ve been watching him flirt and get flustered when she’s around, and she’s giving it right back.

“You work for Wes. I’ll put it on his tab.” Logan steps away and returns a minute later with a glass of sweet red wine.

“This is good,” I say after I take a sip.

“It is, isn’t it?” Logan looks across the bar at Danielle, spacing out for a second before turning back to me. “What’s it like living with my brother? He can be very, uh, uptight at times. Though he’s dealt with an unfair amount of shit in his life.”

“He’s great. Jackson too.”

“You can be honest,” Logan jokes.

“Really,” I laugh. “We get along well, which is nice. I’m there for Jackson, but it helps, ya know? We eat dinner and watch TV together and it’s not weird.”

“That’s good. Going and living with someone would be weird on its own.”

I nod and take another drink of wine. “It takes a while to get used to. I know he wishes he didn’t have to have a nanny for Jackson.” I look over at Wes again. “He’ll never admit it, but I think he feels guilty for being away.”

“He does. My big brother might be a tad prickly at times, but nothing is more important to him than family.”

“I can tell,” I say as my gaze drifts back to Wes. “It’s a very admirable quality, and if I’m being honest, it’s not one I see too often.”

“Right,” Logan agrees.

I can’t help the smile that pulls up my lips or the flush that colors my cheeks. I’m still looking at Wes, and Logan catches me watching.

“So your place is really nice,” I blurt, feeling almost as if I’m having an out-of-body experience. The last time I was at a bar, things went very different. I actually can’t remember the last time I went to a bar just for fun like this. This isn’t me. It’s so far from the version of myself I usually am it’s jarring.

But I like it.