Page 10 of Cross My Heart
“He knows what he needs to know.” I finally say.
“Have you told him it’s not his fault?” Lanie repeats. “I read the file Molly sent over, and it says he rarely talks. Do you know what his last conversation with his mother entailed? In my experience…”
“Your limited work experience or life experience?” I ask, barely containing my anger.
She stares at me for a long while before answering. I get the impression she is sizing me up. “Both,” she explains quietly, and I feel like an asshole. “My mother did the best she could, but she was unstable most of my life. She said things...” stopping there, I see her swallow.
Not only am I an asshole, but I’m also a pervert because now I can’t stop thinking about her long slim neck. How would she react to my tongue on it? I snap my gaze to her eyes and I feel paralyzed. Completely unable to control myself an instant later, my gaze is back to her neck.I swear I can see her pulse racing.
Interesting. Maybe my bizarre reaction isn’t as one-sided as I thought.
She continues talking. “My mother often told me all the wrongs in her life were my fault. In my ‘limited work experience’,” she uses air quotes as she recites my earlier douchey comment back to me, “I saw a lot of the same types of behaviors with troubled mothers and their children.”
“My ex-wife isn’t troubled. She is just a bitch,” I blurt, placing the back of my hand to my head as I do with the kids. I must be getting sick. There is no other explanation for all of these uncharacteristic outbursts.
“Be that as it may, if you haven’t spoken to him, I don’t think it would hurt. Children rarely stick to their guns for as long as Tate has without reason,” she tells me stubbornly.
Had I talked to him? Yes, I know I had. The night she left, we sat and talked over pizza.But he hadn’t stopped talking at that point,the asshat voice in my head reminds me. How dare she question my parenting. I have been doing the best I can. She has no right to judge me.
As if she is reading my mind, she speaks. “Mr. Dexter Cross,”
“Jesus. Just call me Dex.” I all but yell and gone is the confident young woman from a moment ago. The woman before me is in fight or flight mode, so I try to backtrack.
“Look, I’m sorry. This is a challenging time for me. I shouldn’t be raising my voice at you. To be honest, Ms. Heart, I’m not sure what it is about our interactions that are making me react like I am. I don’t do outbursts.I’m generally more composed, always in complete control. I am sorry if I have startled you. My only explanation is that my company is in the middle of acquiring, or at least attempting to acquire, a company in London. If that can happen, it will make life much more comfortable for me, my family, and my employees.”
I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t do outbursts. It is what has made me so good in the boardroom. I’m controlled. I’m calm. Jesus, maybe I caught whatever Harper has. She is still looking down when she mumbles something I don’t quite catch. “What was that, Ms. Lanie Heart?”
She sighs and aims her eye to the ceiling. “Shiplap.”
I raise an eyebrow at her in question. When she doesn’t respond, I ask, “Did you just say shiplap? Didn’t you also say earlier that you walked into a ship-sandwich?” I don’t even try to hide the smirk taking over my face anymore.
Jesus, this girl is unexpected. She flushes bright red from the tips of her ears down her neck to her barely visible cleavage. I snap my eyes back to hers.Do not get caught ogling the nanny, you asshat.
“Ugh,” she slaps a hand over her eyes. “Honestly?”
“I do value honesty above all else, Ms. Lanie Heart.” I feel my face transforming into a full-on smile. When was the last time I smiled at someone I hadn’t created like I am at Lanie Heart?Seriously, why does my brain insist on referring to her with both her first and last names?
“Okay, full disclosure,” she gives a small smile “I swear like a drunken sailor…in my head.I haven’t sworn out loud since I was ten. Now it just comes out in the most ridiculously PG statements.”
The bark of laughter that comes out of me is so unexpected, I don’t bother trying to contain it. “What happened when you were ten?”
Lanie Heart stares at me for a minute. “My mother’s boyfriend happened.” She looks away and I have an unreasonable amount of anger towards this boyfriend. When she notices my hands balled into fists, I make a show of flexing them, forcing them to relax.
“Care to elaborate?” I ask in as calm a voice as I can muster.
“No,” she looks away.
That’s it, just no. Lanie stares straight ahead.
“Ms. Lanie Heart?” I say, trying to get her attention.
“Just Lanie,” she answers.
I smile again. “Okay, just Lanie. I’m entrusting my future nanny with the welfare of my children. There has to be a level of trust and understanding between myself and whomever I hire.”
“I agree. I also believe there is a line between employee and employer. Not everything is for quenching an employer’s curiosity.” She got me there.
“Touché, Lanie, touché.” I clear my throat. “Getting back on track. Vermont is awfully far away. How can I be sure you won’t get homesick and leave me hanging?”
