Page 53 of Sunshine
“Liar.”
He smirks down at me with a twinkle in his blue eyes before his chin suddenly lifts and he looks around the room. He clears his throat and takes a small step back.
I know it’s the right thing to do, but it hurts.
Before I can offer to make myself scarce until it’s time to take Izzy back to the house, Dylan says, “Stay for dinner? I want to hear all about Izzy’s day, and I missed— Will you stay?”
Was he about to say he missed me? Missed Izzy? Missed being there to pick her up? Missed not going to her music lesson? Missed the chance to repeat what we did this morning?
Will there ever be a day I don’t take every word he says and turn it over and over in my head, searching for meaning that’s not there?
“Sure,” I reply. “I haven’t asked her too many questions because I didn’t want to exhaust her after such a big day. So, it’ll be the first I’m hearing about it too.”
“Great. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll meet you at the table.”
With a flirty wink that makes him look so much like the young, fun-loving kid he used to be, Dylan returns the hat to his head, adjusting it so it sits a little off-center and flops to one side. I shake my head with a laugh as he disappears into the kitchen.
Izzy and I tackle an origami bunny while we wait for Dylan. When he appears at the table, it’s with dishes expertly balanced on his arms, wrists, and hands, and I’m temporarily stupefied by how sexy that is. Is it just me, or is competence a total turn-on?
“Basil and almond pesto farfalle,” he says as he sets the first item down in the middle of the table. I inhale with appreciation as Dylan presents a soupy-looking chicken dish with long green beans floating in the sauce. “Tomato chicken braise. House-made sourdough with Silver Leaf olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Lemon arugula salad with parmesan and pine nuts.”
“This looks delicious,” I say as Dylan spoons a little of each onto three large plates.
“Thank you,” he replies, but there’s something in his tone that makes me look up, and I’m surprised by how pleased he is by the compliment.
Izzy’s the first to take a bite, but I’m not far behind. Dylan’s eyes drink me in as I take the first mouthful, and it’s a moan-worthy explosion of tomato and garlic and rosemary. He’s still watching when I spear a pretty little butterfly-shaped piece of pasta and hum with delight at the rich hit of basil.
“You like it?” he asks, his plate still untouched.
“It’s incredible.” I point to his dinner. “Don’t you?”
“Just working up an appetite,” he murmurs, smirking when my eyes round in reply.
I spent so many years wishing Dylan Davenport would notice me, but I was forever invisible. Now he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman in the room.
“So, Little Bee,” he says. “Tell us more about your new school. You said you had a good day?”
“It was the best!” Izzy says, shoveling a forkful of pasta into her mouth.
Dylan’s shoulders soften slightly, but he does a good job of hiding that he was anxious. “That’s awesome. Do you like your teacher? Are the kids nice?”
We get a solid ten minutes of extra info out of Izzy—all positive things that indicate that she’s off to a hopeful start at this expensive private school—but it’s not long before she starts to slow down. When her responses dwindle to one and two words each, and her little mouth widens into an impressive yawn, Dylan gives me an apologetic frown.
“I think it’s time to take her home,” he says.
“I think you’re right.”
He checks his watch, and a shadow of disappointment crosses his face. “I’ll be home to tuck her in, so I guess I’ll see you back at the house in an hour.”
Back at the house where Daisy will be. Possibly Charlie. We realize at almost the exact same moment that after this morning, there won’t be many opportunities to be alone.
And that’s a good thing, I remind myself. If we can’t control ourselves, we’ll just need to rely on fear of getting caught to keep us on our best behavior.
Izzy drags herself to her feet, and I take her hand to encourage her toward the exit. If I were a stronger woman, I wouldn’t look back when we get there, but what happened this morning is proof I’m not a strong woman, so as I push on the door, I glance over my shoulder. Dylan watches me, and the hunger in his eyes makes my heart skip and my thoughts race.
Thoughts about how soon we can be accidentally on purpose alone again.
It’s nearly midnight, and I’m in bed under the covers watchingRapunzelon my laptop when my phone chimes. Dylan’s name flashes on the screen, and I kick my feet. I actually kick my feet before I remember that I’m his kid’s nanny, and this might be about work.
