Page 65 of Free to Fall

He opens his mouth to reply, but I’ll never know what he was going to say because my voice is said a second time. Actually, it’s bellowed by a seven-year-old. “Laura! Stay!”

I pull out of my Liam stupor to realize my hands are hovering over the rock-hard wall of Liam’s chest—as if they were deciding whether to rest against the muscles or push him against the closest flat surface to have my way with him.

His husky voice murmurs, “Bad timing.”

You could say that. I thought I used my inner voice, but I obviously didn’t when his rough chuckle comes out.

Still, my body protests at the kind of meat that’s for dinner when I feel Liam’s courtly hand on the small of my back guiding me into the kitchen. “Look who I convinced to stay for dinner.”

When he moves in front of me toward the stove and I get a good shot of his ass, I suck in a breath. Yeah, meatballs are on the menu, but they’re definitely not what I’m craving.

Cursing myself for not making my escape while I had my chance, but I can’t let Bailey down since she cheers. Hiding my reaction to Liam behind a blinding smile for his daughter. “Who’s ready to eat?”

At Bailey’s exclamation she is, I shoo Liam out of the way to resume dinner preparations.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Doctor Alice Cleary has enough degrees on her walls to intimidate her young patients and enough chocolate in her desk drawer to frighten the parents of her little ones, I think with amusement as Bailey and I get comfortable the next day.

Alice immediately hands Bailey a bag of peanut butter cups and offers me a cup of coffee. “How are things working out since I last saw you?”

Before I can get a word out, Bailey chatters away about “Laura braided my hair” and “Laura did my nails.” For a good ten minutes, my jealousy spikes as Bailey describes their “Summer of Fun.” But I trip over my own stupidity when I hear how they’ve had a Dua Lipa dance party. I open my mouth, and “How? You have casts on” just flies out.

Alice and Bailey swing their heads toward me. Alice’s face is amused, and Bailey’s is insulted. With a huff, she explains, “Laura got on her knees and danced in front of me.”

All the air escapes my body. I hope I didn’t make a sound because the idea of Laura Lockwood on her knees dancing in front of me conjures a very different image in my mind than the one my seven-year-old is painting for our therapist. Despite the way I knew I’d be impressed by the doctor based on the file I read about her, I had no idea of what the woman herself would do to me. Laura Lockwood is quite simply the entire package—compassionate, brilliant, and beautiful.

And in the next two months she’s going to be in my house. It’s entirely possible she’s going to take away what’s left of my sanity.

I want to howl at the moon and fall to my knees in agony. This—she—wasn’t what I was looking for. I wanted a nanny for my daughter, not a woman to tempt me every moment I see her in person and every night I dream. What kind of sweet torment did I sign myself up for?

I find myself reeling back when Alice snaps her fingers under my nose. “What? Sorry. I was thinking about a work ... problem.”

“I was asking if Bailey’s had any more memories of the accident?” Alice enunciates.

Ashleigh. Fury singes through my blood as I listen to my daughter painstakingly pick through her memories. How she was in the back seat—good. How Mommy was texting—bad. Was she using voice text? No. Damn bitch. Then Alice goes somewhere I wasn’t expecting her to. “Do you remember if she ever talked about Daddy before the truck hit your car, Bailey?”

Bailey thinks about it before finally, she nods—for the first time. “She showed me a picture.”

“What did she say about him?” Alice nudges her gently.

My daughter’s face gets that timid, frightened expression on it like it normally does before she’s about to lie. I’m about to call her on it when Alice holds out a hand to stop me. “I don’t remember.”

Frustration eats at me, but Alice lets her get away with it. “That’s okay. One day, you’ll feel well enough to remember.”

Bailey relaxes visibly.

Alice turns to me. “How is Dr. Laura working out for both of you?”

She’s making sleeping next to impossible. On top of that, I might be chafed. But that’s not the answer Alice is looking for. “She’s terrific.” I go on to explain the routine we’ve established from my perspective.

Alice looks at her tablet and contemplates something before broaching my daughter’s least favorite topic—physical therapy. As expected, Bailey groans piteously. Alice smothers a chuckle. “Laura has ordered new X-rays. She’s hoping you might be able to switch to a synthetic cast.”

“What’s the difference?” Bailey’s pout grows to mammoth size at the word cast.

“Well, for one thing, you can take them off to bathe,” Alice shares.

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