Page 103 of Holiday Hire

She freezes, her expression reminding me of a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

I retreat from our kiss, stating, "Thank God I locked the door last night."

She glances out the window. We can see Mason and Jagger striding toward the corral, which already has two horses trotting around it.

"I have to go. I'm already late."

"No," she whines, pouting.

I chuckle. "Get some rest. I'll see you at breakfast in the main house?"

"Sure," she says, then opens her mouth. She snaps it shut and stares at me in question.

I tuck a lock of her magenta hair behind her ear. "What's wrong, baby girl?"

"How does this work, Alexander?"

"Work?" I ask, and my stomach drops. She asked the one thing I don't have an answer to and don't want to decipher right now.

And what I've done dawns on me in the growing morning light.

I fucked my sons' nanny.

I close my eyes briefly, my heart sinking.

What have I done?

"Well, that wasn't exactly the expression I was expecting," she mutters.

I snap out of it. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"No?" she asks, tilting her head, hurt exploding over her features.

I shake my head. "No, I'm just worried about the boys. They've never seen me with a woman before."

Her eyes widen. "Never?"

"No. Not since their mom..." I pause.

Phoebe puts her hand on my arm.

I shake my head again, continuing, "Not since their mom passed, and they were both babies. They really don't remember her, to be honest."

Pity enters Phoebe's expression. She offers, "That must've been really hard for all of you."

I can't stare at her for too long. I hate pity. People shoot that look at me all the time when they find out I'm a widower. I'm never going to like others directing that look toward me. So I assert, "The boys and I are fine."

She adds, "Yes, but that doesn't mean it was easy."

I quickly agree. "No, it wasn't."

She studies me closer.

"The boys really like you, and I think they're already attached to you. I don't want them to think things if they see us together."

"Things?" She arches her eyebrows.

I ramble on. "Yeah. They're very impressionable. You're from California, and I'm from here. I know you have your life, and we have ours. I don't want them to expect anything and then they get let down."

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