Page 10 of Broken Daddy

Russ:Rough first day?

Me:Let’s just say no one at The Black Fig ever questioned my steamed greens.

Eva is rambling about her day, a show she’s been watching, filling Nathan in on the plot. He actually looks invested in the conversation and nods along, which surprises me. Don’t parents usually just zone out…?

Russ:Eva is only ten, Gen.

Me:So I’ve been told. Several times.

There’s a longer pause and guilt gnaws at my stomach. I know I should be grateful for this job, and for Russ pleading my case to Nathan, but the guy has been nothing but rude and bossy.

He’s a decent guy,Russ’s next text comes through, as if he can read my mind.Just give it a fair shot. And maybe try turkey sandwiches or something not so…Michelin star.

I roll my eyes and look up from my lap, gaze catching on Nathan’s. He’s watching me curiously. Eva is still chatting away, and that guilt in my stomach twists into something different…a fringe of nerves, a prey vs predator sensation of being watched very, very closely.

Ignoring the effect he has on me, I turn my attention back to dinner and start mentally planning out the next few days with the grocery haul I got today.

I’ve only failed a handful of times in my life, and this personal chef position willnotbe one of them.

Chapter6

Nathan

The house is quiet without Eva. I find myself wandering the halls, picking up a Nintendo Switch controller she left on the arm of the couch, pushing in the stool she loves to perch on in the kitchen.

She’ll be at a friend’s all weekend for a sleepover. It’s good for her to get out, develop friendships, I remind myself. But in the back of my mind, all I can picture is the sympathetic looks of the other moms from school. I can practically read their minds.Poor thing. Having to make due with a single dad who works all the time.

It’s not about me, though. It’s important for Eva to have friends. To get out and socialize.

I don’t work the weekends, so there’s nothing to keep busy with, unless I decide to head out to the workshop.

But something is nagging me…I can’t put a finger on what. There’s just been this restless feeling since last night, the pull of something under my skin.

Like an itch I can’t scratch.

As if I’ve summoned her with my uncomfortable thoughts, Gen Walker comes in from the patio, a sundress fluttering around her thighs. My eyes lock onto the sight and I feel that familiar twist of desire in my stomach. It only ramps up that feeling of frustration, but now I know it for what it is.

“Oh,” she says, eyeing me warily. “Sorry.”

We got off on the wrong foot. But I don’t know how to say that out loud.

Gen isn’t the kind of woman I’m used to. She’s vocal, talks to herself while she cooks, smiles a lot. That brown hair spilling over her shoulders makes her look like late afternoon sunlight. A golden glow to her no matter what, and that jaunty sway to her hips…

“I can leave.”

“No.” I clear my throat. Where the hell did that come from? “You don’t have to. I’m just trying to decide what to do.”

Gen smiles tentatively, moving farther into the kitchen. “Bored?” She opens the fridge—the freezer, actually. Takes out a pint of vanilla ice cream.

“Usually—” I admit, leaning against the counter with my arms crossed. The skirt of her dress brushes my pants as she reaches into a drawer for a spoon. “—I try not to work on weekends. But without Eva…”

Recognition lights her face. Russ mentioned Gen didn’t have any kids, or anyone she was particularly attached to. Something about a failed engagement-slash-partnership…a restaurant not doing well. But it’s all a haze as the scent of her, citrus and vanilla, overtakes me.

“I get it. I’m not good at free time, either.”

She faces me, leaning back on the counter and popping the lid off the ice cream.

“Vanilla? Really?” I raise a brow, staring down at the white cream flaked with little dark bits of actual vanilla pods. Can’t imagine how much is coming out of my wallet for decent, quality food, but I get curious as Gen raises the spoon to her lips and slips it between them.

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