Page 42 of His

“It’s your guilt coming back,” I say. “You feel indebted to her because she had your baby, and a part of you blames yourself for her depression. You have to let it go?—”

Brittney steps into the kitchen and stops cold, registering the vibe in the room. I take a step back, distancing myself from Astor—which is ridiculous because it’s obvious that we are in the middle of an emotional argument that has nothing to do with housekeeping.

“Uh. Hi.” She says, laser focused on Astor as if he’s the second coming of Christ.

“Brittney, this is Mr. Stone.”

Astor clears his throat, along with the foul mood from his face. He extends his hand with a smile. “Lovely to meet you, Brittney. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Brittney’s ears are so red I’m surprised they don’t burst into flames. Inwardly, I smirk. I remember being just as awestruck the first time I saw Astor Stone.

As I take her in, it becomes glaringly apparent how young and impressionable she is.

I hope Valerie isn’t manipulating her, too.

“I broke a cup,” she blurts out as if someone jabbed her with a cattle prod.

I blink at the abrupt confession.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stone,” she stammers and I can tell she instantly regrets the confession.

“Actually, it was my fault,” I step in, unable to handle this cringe-worthy encounter another second. “I walked into the room and startled her, and she dropped it.”

“Ah, well.” Astor's lip twitches as he narrows his eyes at me. “In that case, I’ll deduct it from your paycheck, Sabine. And as punishment for your incompetence, you can spend the afternoon washing the windows and then pressure washing the back of the house.”

Brittney eye’s pop.

I roll my eyes. He’s enjoying this far too much.

“He’s joking, Brittney,” I mutter, “Or trying to, I should say.”

Astor smirks. “I am. Don’t worry about it for another second, Brittney. Accidents happen. Sabine has broken at least a dozen cups since working for me.”

This time, my eyes actually roll back into my head.

Brittney exhales. “Thank you. Sir.”

“By the way,” he says, “I noticed two of your tires are low, and you’re leaking oil.”

“I am?”

He nods. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to offer you a company car to use while you’re working for me.”

Brittney’s jaw drops and I’m shocked to see tears fill her eyes. “Yes, that would be—thank you so much.”

Astor dips his chin. “Great. I’ll have it delivered by the end of the week.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

I smile, wink.

“Okay, well . . .” Brittney beams from ear to ear. “I’ll go get Mrs. Stone back into bed. I think she’s had enough sun. Thank you again. Sir.”

The moment Brittney steps outside, I grin. “Sir.”

“That’s right. Don’t you forget it.” He closes the inches between us. “I’m sorry I snapped at you just now.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

---