Page 2 of Triplet Babies
“Three years, give or take. I worked for a landscaping company in New York before I moved here. We maintained several high-end properties, so I got used to dealing with complex water systems.” I pause, studying his face for any reaction. “This setup is actually pretty sophisticated. Whoever designed it knew what they were doing.”
“But?”
“But it needs regular maintenance to function properly. The corrosion suggests it’s been neglected for a while.” I gesture toward the valve assembly, which is now dripping steadily onto the stones. “I can fix this specific problem, but there are probably other issues throughout the system that will need attention.”
He nods once, a sharp movement that suggests he’s filing away this information for later use. We stand there for a moment, studying each other in silence. He’s wearing dark jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up that look effortless on him. Everything about him suggests money and power, but there’s something else underneath that makes me think he’s used to getting his hands dirty when necessary.
“Report to the main house tomorrow morning at eight.” He speaks like someone accustomed to being obeyed without question. “Ask for Mrs. Nykova.”
I blink, trying to process this unexpected turn. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Eight o’clock. Main house. Mrs. Nykova will be expecting you.”
“But I—” I gesture helplessly at the irrigation equipment, the small flood I’ve created, and my mud-stained clothes. “I don’t understand. Am I being transferred? Fired?”
Something that might be amusement flickers across his features, but it’s so brief I could have imagined it. “You’ll find out tomorrow.”
“Should I bring anything? My tools, or paperwork, or?—”
“Just yourself.” He turns to walk away, then pauses and looks back at me over his shoulder, looking at me with an intensity that makes my stomach flutter. “Clean up the water before you leave.” The words are clearly an order, but the way he says them—low and careful—makes them sound almost like a suggestion. Almost intimate.
“Of course,” I say, my voice coming out smaller than planned.
He studies my face for another long moment, and I have the strangest feeling he’s memorizing my features. Then he nods once and disappears through the same path the blonde woman took, leaving me standing in a puddle with my pulse hammering and no idea what just happened.
I stare after him for several seconds, trying to process the encounter. Was that an order? A promotion? Am I in trouble, or am I being transferred to different duties? The man obviously has authority here because everything about him screamed “boss,” but I have no idea what he wants from me.
The water is still spreading across the deck, so I force myself to focus on the immediate problem. I turn off the main valve and spend the next twenty minutes mopping up the flood with towelsfrom the pool house, trying not to replay the moment when his hands caught my waist or the way his eyes seemed to see right through me.
By the time I finish cleaning up and pack away my tools, the sun is starting to sink toward the horizon. I’ve been here for nearly eight hours, and I’m exhausted, muddy, and completely unsure about what tomorrow will bring.
I walk back to the employee parking area, a small gravel lot tucked behind a hedge, where my ancient Honda looks painfully out of place among the luxury cars scattered throughout the main drive. As I load my tools into the back seat, I catch myself glancing toward the main house, wondering if he’s watching from one of those panoramic windows.
The thought makes me uncomfortable, so I force myself to stop looking and focus on getting out of here. I need to shower, eat something that isn’t a granola bar, and figure out what to wear to whatever meeting awaits me in the morning. My phone buzzes as I’m pulling out of the estate gates. Nina’s name appears on the screen, so I pull over and answer.
“How did it go?” Her voice is bright with curiosity. “Are you rich yet?”
Despite everything, I laugh. “Not exactly. It was complicated.”
“Complicated how? Good complicated or bad complicated?”
“I honestly don’t know. I flooded part of the pool deck, got rescued by some guy who might be my new boss, and now I have to report to the main house tomorrow morning for reasons unknown.” I let out a heavy breath, worry suddenly gnawing at me again.
“Wait, back up.” I can practically hear Nina sitting up straighter. “Rescued how? What do you mean ‘might be’ your boss? Don’t you know who you’re working for?”
“I slipped on wet stone after I accidentally created a small flood.” I can still remember the warmth of his hands, and the solid strength of his chest against my back. “He caught me before I could fall and crack my skull open on the flagstones.”
“Okay, that’s actually really sweet. Was he cute?”
“Nina.” I don’t bother to mask my exasperation.
“What? I’m asking the important questions here. You said he might be your boss, which means he has authority over you, which means he’s probably loaded, which means?—”
“Which means nothing,” I interrupt, though I can’t quite keep the smile out of my voice. “He was completely professional. Cold, even.”
“Cold how? Like rude cold, or like mysteriously aloof cold? Because there’s a difference.”
I consider this distinction more seriously than I probably should. “Mysteriously aloof, I guess. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was like he expected to be obeyed without question. He had this way of looking at me that made me feel...”
