Page 19 of Tempt

This was a mistake.

Her first day here and she’s already turning things upside down.

I’m used to order. This is chaos.

It was a deranged impulse to invite Kat to be my nanny, a rogue moment of insanity and desperation after watching her with my kid for one evening.

I head upstairs and start toward my son’s cracked door. The strip of light broadens as I push it open and peer inside.

I’ll tell her it was a mistake, pay her for the week and—

He’s tucked in, stuffed animals nestled around him. His soft breathing is even and steady. He appears to be clean. On his nightstand is a row of pots painted every color imaginable.

One is painted with the name Andy. Another says Friends. Another Bea.

Around the names are stars and hearts, carefully inscribed to match the lettering.

Everything else in the room looks normal.

So why does it feel as if there’s suddenly oxygen when I’ve been struggling to breathe for ages?

I rub absently at a spot between my ribs as I go back downstairs.

Kat is asleep on the couch.

Her hair splays over the pillow. Instead of Andy’s stuffed animals, a closed notebook computer is clutched to her chest.

Despite the day’s hurdles, having her here allowed me to work late. It’s the first time I’ve done that in a long time.

I lift the computer and set it carefully on the coffee table, then tuck a blanket around her before heading to the kitchen to clean up.

“What time is it?” Kat’s head pokes up over the back of the sofa. She shoves at her hair, yawning sleepily.

“Late. You guys forging a Jackson Pollocks in here?”

“Hmm?” She looks around.

“Never mind. What was dinner?”

She rises from the couch, stretching both hands over her head. “Andy had French fries and deli meat and celery.”

Three food groups. Call it a win.

“And you?”

“I didn’t eat.”

I head for the fridge and start pulling out food.

Kat crosses the room and settles on a stool at the breakfast bar to watch. “Thank you for the LaCroix.”

“No problem.” I pass her one, plus a glass, without breaking stride.

She pops it open, her T-shirt slipping off one shoulder as she takes a drink straight from the can. “How was the rest of your day?”

I take out a cutting board and a knife.

“Fine.”

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