Page 30 of Suddenly Entwined

“I don’t have any qualifications for that, Berg. I haven’t cared for children beyond watching them for a few hours at a time.”

“That doesn't matter.”

She screws up her face. “How can that not matter? It’s literally the key thing that matters.”

“No.” I shake my head. “It’s not. When you met them, you talked to them like people. You shook their hand for god’s sake. You asked how many months old they were.”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah. I may not remember to change light bulbs or fix doors, but I remember when people were kind to my kids.”

She dips the bag of chamomile in and out of the steaming mug of water on the counter between us.

“You can live here rent free and I’ll pay you what I’m paying the girls before and after school care.”

“You’re serious?”

I nod. “Very.”

She bites her bottom lip, staring into the swirls rising off the surface of her tea, contemplating the offer.

“I don’t think I want that type of responsibility, Berg. I can’t.”

I’m not sure where this insecurity comes from. She’s already shown me she can literally be trusted with Louisa’s life.

“At least think about it.”

Before I realise it, I’m leaning over the bar counter to gently touch the edge of the gauze covering her wound. There’s a tiny speck of blood in the centre of the bandage.

“The bleeding stopped.”

She nods. “Thank you. I was feeling pretty queasy before you…showed up.”

“I promise I’ll never let myself in like that again.”

She smiles, shaking her head. “Why do I find that very hard to believe?”

Chapter eleven

Carolina

My dreams that night are vivid. Louisa is on the other side of an impossibly high fence and every time I try to climb it to get to her, I fall down into a knee deep puddle of cold, sticky mud that sucks at my feet. When I wake, my body is aching and I wince when I swallow. Even after chugging the cold water from the bottle that lives on my nightstand, there’s a dull ache on both sides. Those dreams were something else and they must be why I’m so wiped. If this is what’s going on in my subconscious after only a week of knowing these girls, I don’t even want to know what nightmares haunt Berg.

As I shuffle to the bathroom, Berg’s offer from last night comes rushing back as quickly as the icy water pouring from the tap. I splash my puffy face until it’s numb, trying my best to keep the bandage on my hand somewhat dry. Reaching blindly for atowel, my fingers close around the same one Berg threw at me last night while I stood there freaking out over a little blood. My stomach swirls at the memory of him banging the door open with that resolute expression on his face. It’s easy to recall how effortlessly he lifted me up onto the counter, how good those powerful hands felt around my waist. Sure, his eyes might have nearly popped out of his head when he saw me nude, but then he dialled in on my injuries, and he was in protection mode. Every touch was tender, every word designed to wish away my worries. I’ve never been more vulnerable, and yet there was no trace of fear.

“Enough,” I say, babying my hand while I bundle up in some sweats.

Talk about white knight syndrome. The man helps me with minor first aid and I’m swooning? Please.

If I’m going to be his nanny, not that I’ve decided, I can’t be harbouring some sort of silly crush.

From now on, I apply my own bandaids.

I decide to take the morning to think things through. Write a pros and cons list, soul search, whatever. I’d be crazy to not at least consider it when I’ve been hating bartending so much. But as I’m hunting down my phone, because I crashed hard last night without even plugging it in, a shrill ringing fills my apartment.

“Oh my god,” I yell, blocking my ears with my sweatshirt covered hands.

Did I accidentally set off the smoke detector? Or, god, what if it’s carbon monoxide? But my eyes zero in on the phone on the counter. How on earth did I change my ringtone to something so god awful? I fumble with it, answering as quickly as possible, so the noise stops.

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