Page 44 of Suddenly Entwined

I shake my head. “I didn’t pack Dunkaroos.”

Caro grins, wiggling her shoulders in a little dance. “I did!”

She looks pleased with herself as she climbs into her car and closes the door.

I bend at the waist, resting my hand on the roof, and raise my voice so she can hear me through the glass. “Don’t you know a man's lunch box is private?”

I lift my hand as she pulls away, but not before I see her toss her head back with a laugh. Caro might not seem that phased by this morning, but I am. Kissing her was careless. Here I am worried about Chris, when I should focus on the fact my daughters saw me embracing their new nanny. What sort of message is that sending to them? I’m Caro’s boss, her landlord, and I’m fifteen years older than her.

“Enjoy your Dunkaroos, big guy,” Dean mocks in a girlish voice, clapping a hand over my shoulder.

I shrug him off. “Quit it.”

He only laughs, adjusting his voice to the highest octave he can manage. “Oh, Berg, I wish I could dunk my cookie in your cream.”

“Stop it,” I hiss through clenched teeth as I see Chris come through the front door of his future home.

“If only you weren’t my big brother’s best fr–”

I have Dean under my arm in a headlock a second later, knocking off his hardhat while his laughter booms across the work site. The gravel under his boots slides around as he struggles to break free.

“Knock it off, dipshits!” Isaac shakes his head at us as he climbs out of his truck.

I let Dean go but he gives me a hip check that nearly sends me sprawling.

We break apart, straightening our clothes.

“What are you two idiots fighting about?”

“Nothing.” I shrug.

“Dunkaroos,” Dean says at the same time.

Even though I know I shouldn’t, I could get used to having someone sneaking treats into my lunch. And moreso, having someone to kiss goodbye in the morning.

Chapter fifteen

Carolina

What I did not realise about taking care of school-aged children was how quickly the school day goes by. After I take Berg’s lunch to him, I head to the grocery store and run some other errands. By the time I get back, I basically throw the frozen stuff into the freezer and fly out the door. The street outside the school is bumper to bumper with cars here for pick up. It’s completely different from the day I came to get them early. I squish into a parking spot and climb out to wait for the bell to ring. Parents stand in small groups together, laughing and talking. I try to imagine what group Berg might fit into. There are dads in suits, a group of moms with babies in strollers, and I even spot some grandparents. I decide that all the burly, blue collar dads are still hard at work. When kids pour out of every exit en masse, I have no clue where I’m going to find them.I bite my lip, worrying that Louisa won’t remember the new routine, even though we discussed it. I spot the pink hoodie I suggested she put on beneath her jacket and make a beeline for her before she can get swept away.

“Lou!” I call, smiling when she sees me.

I’m so focused on greeting Louisa and making this change to her life a positive one that I don’t even notice the woman who inserts herself right between us. She’s close to my height, but the three inch heels make her appear taller. Her shoes blend seamlessly with her skin, which is unusually tan for this time of year. Note to self: figure out self tanner before shorts season arrives. The brief thought of the scorching sun on my face gives me a moment of peace before bitch mode overtakes me. I’m so distracted by her outfit and calves that I take a second to place her. It’s Milly’s mom.

“I can wait with you, Louisa,” the woman says, using a voice better fit for a toddler than a kid who is reading chapter books like a champ.

“Hi. I’m Carolina.” I stick my hand out for a polite handshake, but she doesn’t take it.

Great. It’s going to be like that?

“Oh, are you new to the after school program? Are you taking her to care?”

“Um, no. I’m here to pick up Louisa and her sister, and will be for the foreseeable future.”

I sidestep her and wrap my arm around Lou, who leans against my hip in as much of a symbol of solidarity as a seven-year-old can make. We’ve had some pretty good quality time together the last couple of days, and I like to think we’re bonding.

Natalie comes around a corner to meet me where we discussed.

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