Page 27 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

In that fleeting moment, our eyes lock. There’s a flash of something in her eyes, a hint of the same unsettled feeling that’s been gnawing at me. For a second, I wonder if she’s feeling the same pull I do or if I’m just imagining it.

But too quickly I remind myself that it’s too early to have stupid thoughts about the only person who can look after my child next week. Not that I should even once I get a nanny. She’s my boss’s little sister. That makes her forbidden as fuck.

Indie glances at the counter and says, “Cereal and fruit sound like a good, yet, fast breakfast.”

Myra’s face falls slightly. “Oh, you’re not coming with us to the park?” she asks, my heart squeezing at the note of disappointment in her voice.

Indie shakes her head. “No, sorry. I came to figure out which room I’ll be using. Remember, Dave, Rigby, and I will be sleeping over on Monday and Thursday?” she reminds her, trying to soften the blow and offering my child something to look forward to.

“Yes,” Myra claps excitedly and the disappointment is gone. “But are you sure you can’t do anything today with us?”

I see now why Jude said she was the perfect candidate, and great with kids. So far, she hasn’t given in to any of my child’s requests and my kid hasn’t had a meltdown. I should ask her to give me a few more parenting lessons. Because clearly, I suck.

“Well, I have to get the furniture,” Indie explains further.

“We can come with you,” Myra states then glances at me with those big eyes. “Right, Daddy?”

I rub my temples. This child is persistent no doubt. And somehow this has become a match between her and Indie. Myra is trying everything to convince her to stay or at least spend some time with us today. My money is on my child—she’s the most stubborn person I’ve known, followed by her mother.

Indie taps her chin. “Though, that’s an amazing offer. I’ll have to pass. Maybe next time I decide to go shopping you can come with me.”

“Okay,” Myra finally lets it go.

“And since planning is my favorite thing to do, I’ll try to come up with something for Monday, when we have our sleepover.” The way Indie says it, perhaps unintentionally suggestive, sends an involuntary shiver down my spine, making my body tense and my cock semi-hard.

I swallow hard, battling the sudden influx of thoughts that are far too inappropriate for the moment, especially with Myra nearby. The mere idea of Indie spending the night, under my roof, stirs a turmoil within me that I struggle to suppress.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I chastise myself internally for letting my thoughts wander so recklessly.

“While you check the rooms, we’ll finish setting up breakfast,” I manage to say, aiming for a tone of nonchalance to mask the very inappropriate thoughts raging within me.

Indie offers me one of her sweet smiles. “Thank you, Ty. We’ll probably have everything delivered by Monday after you drop Myra to school, so we don’t disrupt your weekend.”

The opportunity to extend the time we could spend together presents itself, and I seize it, despite what common sense dictates. “You’re welcome to do it anytime, so I can help.”

She dismisses the offer with a gentle wave of her hand. “I’ll think about it. You two, continue with breakfast. I won’t take long.” Her assurance does little to ease the sudden tightness in my chest.

And now I understand why my child is being so insistent. We want to spend time with Indie. Whether it’s going shopping or making pancakes, how is it that we’ve come to feel like we need Indie around?

As she turns to head upstairs, her voice drifts back to me, lighter now as she begins a phone call. She sounds a bit unsure and I’m wondering who she’s talking to. “Yeah, I’m here to measure the room as you requested. You sure we can do this on such short . . .”

“You should tell her to come with us, Daddy,” Myra suggests softly, her voice carrying a mixture of hope and a slight sense of urgency. “I really like her and Rigby.”

Ah, so Myra hasn’t given up yet.

Well played, kid.

Well. Played.

I want Indie to come along as much as Myra does, but I play the practical dad. “Pumpkin, Rigby can’t come to the museum with us. They have rules about dogs. Let’s plan something with him next time, okay?”

Myra sighs dramatically, but fortunately, she drops it.

Situation averted for now.

I hope that by next week, we might have a new nanny, and things could go back to our old normal. But there’s this part of me, a part that’s getting louder, wondering if ‘normal’ without Indie is what we really want.

Chapter Fifteen

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