Page 23 of Nanny for the SEALs

“Really?” he asked.

“I noticed there was a Frank Taira piece in the hallway, well, a few pieces of his. His artwork is unmistakable and unique. The different colors he uses, depends on the type of mood you’re in and how you feel about it when you see them.”

He smirked. “Yep, my choice. I find myself traveling and picking up pieces. Stan and Rick don’t get it. They say I love to spend money, but they don’t understand the effort or even have the vision to see what’s going on behind the scenes.”

It was then, with his words and love of art, in which I looked at him in a completely different light. As he spoke, it was as if I was a human and not a nanny or the secret cook. It made me feel relaxed being able to think about something other than my broken heart or the twins.

“I need to get changed, then. I can’t go like this,” I said, standing up.

He stood next to me and grabbed my hand. “No, who says you can’t go like that? You just bought it today, don’t you want to show off your new outfit? We’ll go, grab something to eat, and make a day off it.”

“What about the twins?”

“If Rick needs you, he’ll call, but I have a feeling he won’t.”

“Oh?”

“I just sent him a text saying that if he doesn’t give you the day off, then you’ll quit.”

I shook my head. “Why did you do that?”

“Well, because everyone needs a day off from time to time.”

Yeah, there was just one problem… I had a sneaky suspicion that Stan didn’t see it that way, and he would probably call me and tell me to cook dinner. If he did, what would I say to him? I can’t, I’m out with your brother?

Shit!

As Pete’s green eyes shone, his tanned complexion made me go weak at the knees. I decided that would be exactly what I would do if Stan sent me a message.

“You’re right. Come on, let’s go.”

* * *

It wasas if for the first time since I lived here that I took note of the streets and people. Sure, I’d walked down some of these streets a few times, but it would be to get to work, meet Ben, or something related to Ben. I’d been such a fool. How did I go from a strong-willed young woman to an old woman who didn’t know her own mind.

“Ouch!” I screamed as I nearly walked into a door.

“It happens when you don’t watch where you’re going,” Pete said as he rubbed my arm and led me away from the door. “You’re not interested in the art, I get it. Sometimes it’s not for everyone, depending on what mood you’re in.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that. It’s just Ben popping his ugly head into my mind again.”

He titled his head. “I can see that. He looks a bit like him.”

It dawned on me that Pete was right. His sky-blue eyes were staring at me, the same dirty blonde hair; if anything, this was Ben. I moved closer and looked at the artist’s name, Rebecca G. Never heard of her, but it was as if we both got struck by lightning at the same time as Pete read it out loud.

“It’s really him. It’s Ben.”

The jaw structure and the shape of the face told me it was him, but it made me even madder, wondering how many women this guy had been with. Strippers. Artists. God knows who else. And here I was, crying over him. I should be laughing and rejoicing about the idea of not being with him and finally being free.

“Well, at least you didn’t have a kid with him. Not like poor Rebecca.”

I spun around to realize we were in a section with not only one painting of Ben, but several, and the one in the corner had caught Pete’s eye. Clearly, she’d painted her world, and it consisted of Ben—the man she must love—and her baby. Others came into the gallery, and they pointed at the portrait she did of herself being pregnant. Curiosity got the better of me, and I ran around trying to figure out dates or even a guide of information about her on my phone. As I did the usual social media, gallery search, etc., I decided I had it in front of me. She was pregnant, having or she could have had his baby, and I should be relieved as Pete had clearly said. I had an escape, whereas she would be tied to him for life.

“You want to get out of here?”

“I think you know the answer to your question.”

He took my hand, and we marched out of there. It was then that his height was empthasized compared to mine. For every stride he took, I had to take at least two, or so it felt like it. He gilded effortlessly, whereas I found myself nearly running and falling over a couple of times.

Once we were outside, he swung me around, wrapped his arm around me, and pressed his lips against mine. It all happened so fast, it took me by surprise.

“Now, do you feel better?”

I didn’t have a chance to answer. “I know a nice restaurant in Santa Barbara, bouchon Santa Barbara, which is not too far from here, we can get something to eat. What do you say?” he said, holding my hand.

He didn’t wait for a reply as he led the way. He wasn’t dragging me like he was when we were in the gallery, but he was in charge. I loved a man who knew what he wanted, and as for his lips, I licked mine, trying to taste his lips again. He must have had some caramel, because I could taste them on his lips. He certainly was different from his brother. He was spontaneous, fun, and everything I could do with right now—even if he was my boss.

---