Chapter Ten

Weston

Goddammit. Bacon and eggs and blueberry muffins have never tasted so good. Scarlet piles bacon and eggs on her plate, fills a mug halfway with coffee and then tops it off the rest of the way with creamer. She dumps a spoonful of sugar in it as well, bringing her food over to the table. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, and the loose strands that fall around her face are begging to be pushed back.

She’s wearing black leggings and a tight black T-shirt, with a loose-fitting red-and-black flannel shirt over top. She’s effortlessly beautiful, and I can’t find a single thing about her to complain about.

“Blueberry muffins are cliché.” She reaches for one, setting it on her plate. “But it was the only kind I could make. You guys must like blueberries.”

I smile as I finish chewing a piece of bacon. “Jackson eats them like candy.”

“That’s good. Better than eating candy like candy.” She laughs at herself, realizing what she said. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. And I agree. He’s always been a good eater in that sense.”

She picks up a piece of bacon. “I can relate to that.”

A few minutes of silence go by as we both eat our breakfast. It’s still gray and cloudy outside, but Scarlet is brightening up the whole room. “When does Jackson usually get up?” she asks.

“Eight-thirty or nine if he’s able. Usually when I work on a Saturday, I take him to my parents’ and have to wake him up early. He’ll be happy to sleep in today.”

Scarlet nods, finishing her bacon and eggs. She goes for the muffin next. “Are your parents retired?”

I shake my head, picking up the coffee. “No. My dad’s a contractor, and my mom works with him running the office aspect of the business.”

“What do your brothers do? Are any of them cops as well?”

I laugh at the thought of Owen or Logan in uniform. “No. Dean works with our dad, and Logan and Owen own a bar called Getaway.”

“In town?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty much the only good bar around here, and I’m not just saying that because my brothers own it.”

“I’ve only seen quite literally two blocks of this town, but I’m guessing there’s not much to it?”

“Eastwood isn’t huge, but we have more than you’d think…I think.” If she’s used to Chicago, then she’s not going to be impressed by our little town. “We’re not some podunk town in the middle of nowhere,” I go on. “If the weather clears up, I can show you around.”

She smiles. “I’d like that. Better get used to things here, right?”

I open my mouth but can’t make the word come out. It’s easy. One syllable. Right. But saying that one word feels like I’m saying a magic spell that seals our fate. She’s here. To stay. Which means there’ s a good chance of winning this race, which of course is the end goal. But that means being away from Jackson more, and it’s suddenly hitting me like a punch to the face.

“Yeah,” I finally force myself to say and get up for a refill of coffee. Scarlet’s almost done with her muffin by the time I get back.

“You eat a lot for someone of your size,” I blurt, needing to fill the silence with something.

She smiles, finishing the last bit of her muffin. “I do a lot of bad things, and I think the guilt inside of me burns a lot of calories.” Her eyes meet mine for a second, and I laugh.

“I didn’t realize that was the key to dieting.”

She winks. “It’s a secret. Don’t tell anyone.”

Still smiling, I clear my plate from the table. “Thanks for breakfast. Jackson will be thrilled to have bacon when he gets up.”

“Should I wake him up at any particular time?”

“No, you can let him sleep in. He might wake up when I go say bye to him.”

Scarlet gets that surprised look again. “That’s sweet you tell him goodbye.”

“I always do.”

She drops her gaze to her hands, blinking rapidly. I fill a to-go mug with coffee, fully aware of my caffeine addiction, though I think a caffeine addiction is almost a requirement when you’re a parent, let alone a single one.

Quietly, I go into Jackson’s room and pull the blankets back over him. The kid sleeps like an octopus, and his pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals always end up on the floor.

“Love you,” I whisper and kiss him on the top of the head. “See you tonight, buddy.”

*

“I have no idea where Jackson is,” Scarlet tells me, raising her shoulders in a dramatic shrug. The pile of blankets behind her on the couch moves, and Jackson giggles from inside.

“Oh no,” I say back. “Where could he be?” Jackson laughs again, and I take off my shoes and stride to the couch. “I’ll go look for him after I sit down for a bit.” Perching on the edge of the couch, I slowly lean back against Jackson. “This pillow is lumpy.” I pretend to fluff it, and Jackson pops up from under the blankets.

“Boo!”

“What?” I lean back, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you were there!”

“I tricked you, I tricked you!” Jackson chants. He jumps into my arms, and everything is right in the world.

“What did you do today?” I ask, though I already have an idea. Scarlet texted a few photos throughout the day. It rained all morning, and they built a pretty epic fort in the living room. She was laying down inside it next to Jackson in one of the photos she sent. Jackson’s face was scrunched up, eyes closed with a toothy smile.

Then it seems they played with Jackson’s farm set the rest of the day, which is his current favorite thing. The handmade, wooden barn was mine when I was a kid, and Jackson thinks it’s extra special knowing I played with it when I was his age.

Jackson tells me about his day, and Scarlet goes back into the kitchen. I can’t see what she’s doing, but it sounds like she’s chopping vegetables. We don’t have vegetables. Well, not fresh ones anyway. I desperately need to go grocery shopping, but Jackson’s been a pain in the ass to take with lately, and I’m ready to bang my head against the wall by the time our shopping trip is over.

“Can I play at Dillan’s house after dinner?” Jackson asks. Dillan lives across the street. His sister is in Jackson’s preschool class with him, but girls currently have cooties, and Jackson wants nothing to do with her. Which is fine by me.

“Maybe for a little bit.”

“Until it gets dark?”

“You can see if he wants to play here,” I offer, liking it better when Jackson brings friends here as opposed to him going to a friend’s house. I can keep a better eye on them…which is probably what every parent on the face of the earth thinks.

“Yay! Thanks, Dad!” Jackson gives me a hug and jumps off the couch.

Scarlet peeks out of the kitchen, knife in hand. Yep. She was chopping something. “You still need to go pick up your farm toys, buddy,” she tells him. “You promised you’d pick them up before dinner.”

“Okay,” Jackson says without so much as a glare or a stomp of his little foot. He hurries up the stairs, and I look back in Scarlet’s direction, thinking I hired a witch instead of a nanny because there’s no way Jackson agrees to cleaning this easily.

Once the shock wears off, I go into the kitchen to make sure Scarlet is cooking dinner and not chopping up frog legs or eye of newt and adding it into a cauldron.

“Hey,” she says with a smile, looking up from the cutting board. She’s chopping carrots and adding them to a Corningware dish.

“Where’d the veggies come from?” I ask, bypassing telling her how spellbinding she looks with her hair in messy waves hanging around her face, wearing a simple black tunic and gray leggings.

“Ms. Hills accidentally bought too much at the farmers’ market today.” Scarlet raises her eyebrows. “Imagine that.”

I plow a hand through my hair, smiling. “Yeah, she’s…uh…”

“Totally hot for you?”

“That’s not how I’d phrase it, but…yeah…I suppose so.”

Scarlet chops up a few more pieces of the carrot and adds them to the dish. “I can’t blame her.” She flicks her eyes up, a small smile playing on her lips. Inhaling deep, Scarlet’s breasts rise and fall beneath her scoop-neck shirt.

“What are you making?” I ask, trying to steer myself back into PG territory. Because my cock is making this conversation want to go into the adults-only section.

“I’m not really sure,” she admits with a laugh. “I found this recipe on P*******t.” She grabs her phone to show me what she’s making.

“Looks good.”

She grabs an onion and starts slicing. “How was work?”

“Slow today, which isn’t a bad thing.”

“No,” she agrees. “Not at all.” She turns her head, blinking fast. “Oh my god. It really does burn your eyes.”

“The onion?”

“Yes.” Laughing, she sets the knife down and squeezes her eyes closed. “My eyes are watering like crazy!” She opens her eyes again only to shut them a second later. She wipes at them with the back of her hand, still laughing at herself.

“It can’t be that bad,” I say and stride over to cut up the rest of the onion for her. But the second I get next to the cutting board, my own eyes start to burn.

“Okay, you’re right. This has to be the strongest onion in the world.”

Laughing, she turns away and takes a step forward and walks right into me. Her supple breasts crash against my chest, sending a wave of heat right to the tip of my cock. She bounces off me, and I reach out, hands landing on the gentle curves of both her hips to steady her.

With her eyes still closed, she reaches forward with one hand, flattening it against my chest. Slowly, she trails her hand down until it’s resting just inches above my belt. Her lips part, and my heart speeds up. I wonder if she can feel my pulse racing, if she knows what her body close to mine is doing to me. If she brought her hand lower or moved just a tiny bit closer, she’d feel it. My fingertips dig into her flesh, soaking up all the warmth I can through her shirt.

She smells like lavender and strawberries, an intoxicating scent on its own, but so welcome over the smell of the onion. I want to move close and breathe it in, but getting close to Scarlet is a bad fucking idea.

Clearing my throat, I tear myself away before this semi turns into a full erection.

“How are you able to keep your eyes open?” she laughs, blinks hers open for just a few seconds.

“I have superpowers.”

“Well, then use them and chop up the rest of the onion.” That smile looks so good on her, even with the red, watery eyes. She goes to the sink, washes her hands, and rubs her eyes. “Okay…that’s a little better. But, oh my God, I had no idea it got that bad!”

“Have you never chopped an onion before?”

She shakes her head. “It’s been a while. And I’m not the best cook, so don’t hold it against me if dinner tonight sucks.”

“I’m not a good cook either, so I won’t.” Besides…there are other things I want to hold against her. Swallowing hard, I take one last look at her before tearing my eyes away and going upstairs to change.

“Dad, look!” Jackson calls when I walk past his room. “I cleaned up!”

“You did a great job, bud!” I go into his room, impressed by how thorough the kid was.

“Do you think Scarlet will be proud of me?”

“I know she will be. I am.”

“Really?”

“Of course!”

He makes a face. “You’re just saying that because you’re my dad.”

I laugh. “Well, I suppose I am a little biased. But you are a good kid. Most of the time.”

“What am I the other times?”

“Rotten. And a stinker.”

Jackson laughs. “No, I’m not!”

“Yeah, you are,” I tease and poke at his sides, making him erupt in giggles. He climbs onto my lap and runs his finger over my badge.

“I love you, Daddy,” he says softly.

“And I love you.”

*

I dozed off putting Jackson to bed and woke up not knowing what time it was. Or what day it was. Or my name. Napping always does that to me. All I know is it’s late, and I’m way too old to sleep contorted in a twin bed around my wiggling four year old.

Light from the living room TV filters up the stairs. Scarlet is huddled on the couch, knees drawn up to her chest. She’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt and tight black shorts. Her hair is piled on the top of her head, and her eyes are wide.

The bottom stair creaks under my weight, and Scarlet jumps, knocking a pillow off the couch.

“Jesus!”

“Again, just me,” I say with a cheeky grin. “You’re jumpy.” I flick my eyes to the TV. “And now I see why.”

“Have you watched this?” she asks, picking up the remote and pausing the horror show she’s watching.

“Not all of it. I’m up to episode four.”

“I’m not even through the third episode and I don’t know if I can handle the rest.”

“It is creepy. They did a good job with this show.”

She picks up the pillow and stretches her long legs out on the coffee table. “Want to watch it with me? You can hold me accountable not to chicken out.”

“Should I indulge you with junk food too?”

A smile plays across her face. “I’m starting to think you get me, Mr. Dawson.”

“You know you can call me Wes, right?”

The smile gets bigger. “It makes me feel like I’m on the Titanic.”

“What?” I ask, my own lips curving into a half-smile.

“Seriously?” She pushes up on the couch and leans forward, and God help me, I can see down her shirt. She’s dressed for bed and not wearing a bra.

“I’m not following.” I run my hand over my face, needing to physically block out the sight of her perfect breasts.

“Isn’t that part of the reason you named your son Jackson, so you could call him Jack Dawson?”

I shake my head again. “He’s named after my grandfather.”

“Oh. Well then, never mind.” She leans back only to round on me again. “So you’re telling me you’ve never seen the movie Titanic?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“We can’t be friends now,” she says seriously.

“That puts a strain on this whole situation, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” She slowly moves her head back and forth and picks up the remote again. “If only there was a way to solve it.”

“You want me to watch Titanic, don’t you?”

Laughing, she nods. “Not tonight, though. Tonight, we need to find out why angry spirits are haunting this family.”

“Go ahead and keep watching,” I tell her and cross the room. “I’ve already seen this episode.”

Several minutes later, I come back with popcorn, Oreos, and a bag of chips.

“You delivered on that junk food,” Scarlet says, folding her legs up under herself, freeing space on the couch. She pats the seat next to her and I can’t move. Usually, the floor is lava and Jackson and I are jumping off it onto the couch, but right now it feels like it’s the other way around.

“Do you like horror movies?” I ask, forcing myself to take a step forward and place the food on the coffee table.

“I do. I have a slight fascination with paranormal stuff. What about you?”

“They’re okay. Most are lame nowadays, though. I miss the old slasher flicks from my childhood.”

She tips her face up to me, eyebrow raised. “You watched a lot of slashers when you were a kid?”

“Actually, no. I watched them at a friend’s house when I’d spend the night and then would have to lie about why I was so scared when I came home. My parents were kinda strict.”

“Mine weren’t.” She grabs the bowl of popcorn, and I’m still standing there, eyeing her down like she’s Kryptonite and I’m Clark Kent. “My dad wasn’t around much until later.” As soon as the words leave her lips, she leans back, almost as if she’s surprised with herself for the confession. Seeming a bit flustered, she shoves a handful of popcorn in her mouth and grabs a blanket off the arm of the couch.

I go around the coffee table and sit on the couch, moving a pillow in between us.

“The flashbacks threw me,” I say, wanting to break the silence. “I’m not good at remembering names in shows.”

“Yeah, it took me a minute to get it too.”

I watch her face, knowing a rotten body is going to fall out on screen when the closet door opens. Scarlet’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t jump.

I did.

“This house is old.” She turns to me, pulling the blankets tighter over her shoulders. “But it’s not haunted, is it?”

“I’ve never seen anything. And even though Jackson says he does, I don’t really believe him. I’d think he’d be scared if he saw a real ghost.”

“So you believe in ghosts?”

“I haven’t seen enough to sway me either way.”

“Smart man.” She takes another handful of popcorn, and by the way she shuts down, I have a feeling she has seen something to sway her. But not necessarily a spirit. Something more real. Something that can hurt you in a way a ghost can’t.

We finish the rest of the episode in silence, and then the next one starts. I’ll admit, this show is creepy. There’s something about weird shit happening to everyday people to get you thinking and make you become paranoid…which is exactly what the writers of this show wanted. They succeeded.

Halfway through the new episode, I reach for the chips the same time Scarlet does. My hand brushes over hers.

“Your skin is freezing,” I say, using it as an excuse to take her small hand in mine. I splay my fingers over hers, sandwiching her hand between both of mine. Her skin is cold but so smooth and soft. Blood rushes through me, and the tip of my cock tingles, imagining that small, soft hand wrapping around it.

“My feet are even colder.” She shifts her weight and pushes her freezing cold feet underneath me, laughing. “They get cold at night. I used to want a dog just so I could have them lay in bed and keep my feet warm.”

“That’s a good reason to get a dog.”

“I know, right?”

I let go of her hand and move mine to her feet, cupping them both against my palm.

“You’re so warm,” she says quietly and leans back. I start to rub her feet—to be helpful, of course. There’s no need to make her be cold.

“I tend to run warm. I’m always hot.”

“I’m the opposite. I get cold easily and my hands and feet feel like ice if the temp drops below eighty.”

I laugh. “I can tell.”

She lays back, throwing the blanket over her legs. I don’t mean to keep rubbing her feet, but I do, making sure she’s properly warmed up. She twists, laying on her side but keeping her feet on my lap. I swallow hard, tempted to run my hands down to her thigh and see if the skin on her calves is as smooth and soft as I think it’ll be.

She inhales deeply, slowly moving her feet against my thigh, and I can’t help but think she’s doing it on purpose. Does she know the effect she’s having on me? Certainly a woman like Scarlet is well fucking aware of what she can do to a man.

Episode four ends and five begins, and Scarlet’s legs are still draped over me. This episode is even freakier than the last, and Scarlet does jump a time or two. When episode six starts, we’re both too far down the rabbit hole to stop. Scarlet gets up to use the bathroom, hurrying down the hall during the opening credits.

“I was convinced someone was going to jump out of that closet and bring me into the spirit world,” she says when she gets back, taking her spot on the couch. Instead of leaning against the arm on the opposite side, she moves the pillow between us and scoots closer. “Feel.” She holds out her hands, and I freeze, mouth going dry as I raise my gaze to her face.

Her blue eyes are wide, and red-and-blue flashes from the TV illuminate her face. A slight flush colors her cheeks, and her full lips are parted. She’s so damn pretty it hurts.

“I think you were taken into the spirit world.” I wrap my hands around hers. “You’re even colder than before.”

“Time probably stopped for you out here, and I was in there for like an hour at least, getting my soul sucked out by demons.”

“That is the most likely explanation.” Before I can stop myself, I push a loose strand of her hair back out of her face. She shivers, closing her eyes in a long blink and then inches closer. “I’ll turn up the heat. Jackson runs hot too.”

“He gets it from you.”

I nod, eyes falling from hers to her breasts. “My brothers are the same way. My mom and Quinn were always freezing, but they learned to deal,” I add with a laugh. Goosebumps break out along her arm, and I slide my hand up, feeling each tiny bump covering her flesh. My heart hammers loudly in my chest as I fight against every fiber in my being.

I want to pull her close. I have the perfect opportunity screaming at me. It’s like the universe is throwing me a bone, trying to make up for the shit I’ve trudged through before. There’s no denying the attraction between us, and maybe I’m out of practice, or all together too damn hopeful, but I feel something with Scarlet.

Something I haven’t felt in a long, long time.

Something I never even felt with Daisy.

But I can’t. She’s Jackson’s nanny. She’s here for him, and he’s the only thing that matters.