Page 69 of DadBod

ELIZABETH

I’m studyingthe stupid driver’s education manual when I hear the garage door. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s just past seven. To myself, I whisper, “You get home earlier and earlier.”

It’s true. I’ve been doing this nanny gig for a month now, and each evening, Rome has gotten home progressively earlier. I’m not sure if I should be concerned about that or not. Does he not trust me? Is he concerned I’m doing something wrong? Harmful? Why else would he suddenly, well, not suddenly, but why would he start leaving work like this? Maybe I should have realized something was up when he promoted Jeriann. That was the first sign something had changed.

I can’t figure it out. My face must be reflecting my bewilderment about this topic because the first thing out of his mouth is “Why are you frowning?”

“Frowning?”

“Yes.” He points to his own forehead, between his eyes. “You’ve got those little scrunched-up lines here.”

I watch as he takes off his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeves.

God. That man has amazing forearms.Have I mentioned that before? If not, they deserve some attention. They’re muscular and a little too hairy, but for some reason, I find that extra sexy. They flex when he writes and when he works in his kitchen.

“Are you angry that I’m home early?”

Shaking my head in an attempt to stop my forearm fantasy, I figure I’d better say something. “No.”

He’s now got those hands, which are connected to the sexy forearms, at his slim hips. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Sliding off the sofa, I stand. I’m not sure where I’m going though. Should I just ask him if he’s concerned about me with the kids?

No.

I don’t think I could take it if that were true. I love his kids, even Ryann. I’d like to say that, after a month, the girl has finally warmed up to me, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s gotten even more sullen and, dare I say, belligerent? I’m getting a little tired of it even though I get it. Mostly. Tomorrow will be another fight because it’s outing day and I’m taking them back to the Pet Project in the morning and to the Art Institute of Chicago in the afternoon.

She’s going to hate it.

I didn’t see him approach, I guess because my mind was wandering, but when I look up, he’s right there. It surprised me. “What?”

“What’s the matter, ba––Elizabeth?”

What was he about to call me? “Nothing is the matter.” Maybe I can ask in a way that won’t cause him to be brutally honest. “Am I doing an okay job here?” I point to the floor.

“Yes.” Now he’s frowning. “Why would you ask that question, Elizabeth?”

Well, shit. He just emphasized my name. I still hate that.

“No reason.” I shrug, attempting nonchalance. “Just wanted to be sure you were happy with my job performance.”

I expected him to chuckle, or at the very least smile, but I get the opposite. “That’s a ridiculous question.”

“Okay.” No, it isn’t.

“You’re doing a wonderful job.” There’s a long pause that I don’t care for. “With Calvin.”

“Uh-huh.” Setting the manual, the size of War and Peace, down onto the coffee table, I step around the man I lo––work for.

His hand touches my arms as it passes, but he quickly releases me. “Ho––Elizabeth. You know Ryann is going to need more time.”

We may as well talk about this. “Is she? I don’t think she’s ever going to warm up to me. You might need to accept that notion, because I barely see her, and when I do, she glares at me. If I ask her a question, she snaps her response.” I roll my eyes. “That is if she deigns an answer.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“No.” Shaking my head, I continue, “No. I need to handle this. If you get involved, she’ll just––”

“What? What will she do?”

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