Page 28 of The Third Girl

CHAPTER 12

SKYLAR

I take a deep breath and knock. It’s 11:20 p.m., but I can’t see any sense in sitting in my car waiting for another ten minutes. Maybe by showing up early, I can give Matt a few extra minutes to himself or he can get to the station to… heck, I don’t know what he does at the beginning of a shift. There’s probably a report from the previous shift to read or something like that. In this small town, who knows what you’d read on one of those. Old Mrs. Freeman’s cat, Chunk, up a tree. Again. Lead-foot Timmy Smith given a speeding ticket. Altercation in the stands at the high school baseball game. I chuckle. Sometimes I amuse myself.

My brows pinch together, and I wonder if I should just go on in. But this is only day two, and after yesterday’s exchange of text messages, I’m left unsure exactly how Matt views me. From his response, I couldn’t tell whether he was too stressed over what was going on with his Mom or what, but the immediate jump to his work schedule had felt like a brush off. I hope he didn’t think it was weird that I’d asked about his mom, but I’m totally on the periphery of this family, knowing Lucy and Kennedy through Laney. I’ve never met Claire, but I’m familiar with her because of my friends. They talk about her and the Morello family all the time. It hadn’t occurred to me until too late that when I hastily sent that text that maybe I shouldn’t have asked Matt. Maybe it was too personal, considering I work for him.

But the truth is I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I’ve felt a connection growing between us ever since that day at the self-defense class. We shared a couple of moments that day, then more at the park with Sailor. And he’d definitely opened up to me while he was showing me around his home—well, maybe I’m reading too much into it. It’s a job, and I hope I haven’t screwed things up.

Shit.I frown. I wonder if he heard my first knock. I give the door another quick succession of raps and proceed to fidget in place, nerves taking over my body.

I don’t know where the intense need to get to know this guy is coming from, but it might be getting out of control. No, wait. That’s a lie. I do kinda know. Every time I look into his eyes, I feel the deep ache inside him. The loneliness. The struggle to move on. It’s probably dumb of me to think I could possibly help a man like him. That he could see me as something more than just the girl who is watching his kid.

Uh-oh.From inside the house, I hear faint footfalls as he jogs down the stairs, but over that sound, are the long, loud wails of an unhappy Sailor Morello.Oh boy.I might actually earn my pay tonight. She’d been so easy Wednesday night. I cringe as the doorknob jiggles, then the door swings open to her cries piercing the night. Matt stands there looking disheveled and nowhere near ready for work.

“Come on in,” he says roughly as he pats Sailor’s back. “Sorry, she woke up while I was in the shower, and it took me a few minutes to get to her, and—”

I shake my head, interrupting, and hold my hands out. “Let me have her. You still need to get dressed I take it?”

“I do,” he grits, the exasperation rolling off him in waves. I’m certain he’s upset with himself that she was crying while he was in the shower and there was no one else to go to her. My heart hurts for both of them. I bet he deals with this sort of thing a lot.

He hands her over to me, and while I make shushing noises next to Sailor’s ear and bounce her in a soothing rhythm, I can’t help but let my eyes wander down his torso. The T-shirt he’d thrown on fresh out of the shower is partially damp and stretched tight across his muscular chest. My gaze drifts farther to the joggers that are barely hanging onto his hips. The smallest sliver of skin is visible between the two garments, and my eyeballs seem stuck on it. And his bare feet. Big, manly feet. Tingles wash through me.

I shake myself, focusing on Sailor. My efforts seem to be working. I make a shooing motion at Matt. “Go on. Go get dressed. I’ve got her.”

His brow pinches, but he turns and races back up the stairs, and out of my line of sight.Oh, man.I’m going to hell for the way I keep ogling this guy. But that hadn’t stopped me from watching his toned backside as he ran all the way up those stairs, now, had it? “Sailor, I might be in trouble.”

In a sleepy voice, she repeats me, nodding her head as she cuddles against my chest. “Twouble.”

* * *

The next morning, I wake up bleary-eyed. Sailor woke up three more times overnight. If I’m not mistaken, she’s picked up a cold of some sort. She isn’t super sick, but I do think it’s messing with her sleep. That might mean I’ll get it, too, but there are advantages to working in the kindergarten classes, like acquiring a superhuman immune system. The first two years I taught, I was sick as a dog, picking up every bug that went through the classroom, but I haven’t had it so bad the last couple years. With a sigh, I push back the covers and swing my legs out of bed. I glance at the baby monitor. Not a peep out of Sailor yet. I drag in a breath. I totally need coffee after the repeated wakings last night. I reach over to the nightstand and pick up the hair tie I’d left there and secure my unruly curls into a messy knot on top of my head.

Leaving my room with phone and baby monitor in hand, I sneak a peek at Sailor before popping into the bathroom to pee and give my teeth a good brushing. I need coffee ASAP, I feel like it’s nap-thirty already. Hurrying from the bathroom, I head downstairs to see if I can figure out Matt’s coffee machine.

In the kitchen, I set the baby monitor on the counter and pull up all my playlists on my phone. When I find what I want, I press play, filling the house with the Smashing Pumpkins cover of “Landslide.” I love it, and I tend to listen to it on repeat, which is embarrassing, but not, since I live alone. Humming to myself, I bend a bit at the waist, staring at the machine, crinkling my nose as I try to figure it out. I stretch up to open one of the upper cabinets to see if he keeps the coffee up there.

From behind me, there’s a low gasp, and then a hurried, “Sorry.”

“Oh, shit!” I stop what I’m doing, quickly lowering from my tiptoes, and pivot to put my ass cheeks to the cabinets behind me before tugging the hem of my shirt down in front. It’s not long enough. I do an awkward bending squat as I try to hide my underwear and upper thighs from Matt. When I look up, though, he’s put his back to me, his fingers laced together over the top of his head. I wince hard.Shit.And oh my God. Matt in his police uniform is something else. This is really not the time to be gawking at his ass in those pants, but damn. I could look for hours and not get enough. I stutter, “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were home.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, even though he can’t see me. “I needed coffee. Sailor was awake on and off all night.” Embarrassment floods my system.

He clears his throat, and it kinda sounds like he’s revving an engine. “Um. If you go get dressed, I’ll make you some coffee before I take a shower.” He pauses, listening to the music I have playing low on my phone, and he cocks his head to the side. “You like the Smashing Pumpkins?”

“Um. Yeah. They’re my favorite. I know you do, too.”

His shoulders tense, and his rough voice grits out, “How’s that?”

I wet my lips. “Um. You were listening to them when you pulled up at the park. I didn’t want to act like a weird fangirl, so I didn’t say anything.”Oh God, shut up, Skylar.I’m so fucking embarrassed. And somehow, I’m still standing here pantless in only my sleep shirt. “Coffee. Coffee would be good, if you don’t mind.”

“Sailor’s still asleep?”

“Yeah, I just woke up, and she was still zonked in her crib.” Goose bumps rise on my legs as I become very aware of how very exposed I am. Oh God, the thong. Not only am I standing in Matt’s kitchen in my underwear, it’s not even full-coverage underwear—I’m in a damn thong.Heat rises first to my cheeks, then washes through my entire body.Holy crap.

“Okay. Well, like I said, go put some clothes on, and I’ll have coffee for you in five minutes.”

I exhale loudly. “Again. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it.” There’s something strange in his tone, but I can’t quite place it. “Pretty sure I called the awkward moments when we made this arrangement.”

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