Page 61 of Until Posey

“He used to. But he had a passion outside of cars, and now works as chef of some sort atFlame.” I glanced at Darcy. “He’s an excellent cook, too. Went to school for it and everything.”

It went silent for a bit, then I asked. “What do you do for a living?”

“Didn’t Posey tell you?” I shook my head. “I’m a social worker.” She paused. “I’m Posey’s boss.”

Fuck me.

Chapter 15

Hunter

Posey could’ve warned me. I wondered if Darcy had the same views about me as Posey had when she showed up at my door with Destiny. Not that I was going to explain myself to the older woman. I didn’t need to. Even if I was Destiny’s dad, Hope never shared with me she was pregnant, so I still wouldn’t have known until Posey showed up on my doorstep.

“I’ll ask you the same question I asked, Posey. Are you questioning me as a social worker or as a concerned mom trying to protect her daughter?”

Darcy laughed before waving me off. “The latter. Your life before my daughter came into it is just that, your life. All I’m concerned about, Hunter, is two things. Do you make my daughter happy, and will you support her in whatever adventure she embarks on next. Other than that, I don’t want or need to know, as it’s none of my business.”

To say I was a little shocked was an understatement. I had a couple of friends who were married. They constantly bitched and moaned about their mother-in-law’s. About how they were constantly sticking their noses into their relationships with their wives and their children. One of my friends, Crew, ended up getting a divorce from his wife, thanks to his mothers-in-law’s constant interference in their life. He couldn’t take it anymore. Instead of his wife turning to him for help in situations, she ran to her mom.

“That’s my plan, Darcy,” I reassured her.

“Then we’re good,” Darcy said before getting to her feet and returning Destiny to me. “I need to go pull the meatloaf out of the oven. Why don’t you take the baby and go set her up in the dining room?”

Darcy gestured to the other doorway.

Since both my parents drilled manners into my head from the moment I could talk, I responded with, “Yes, ma’am.”

When I walked through the doorway, Posey was just putting down the last glass. On one chair was a portable highchair, strapped in and ready for Destiny.

“Why didn’t you tell me your mom was your boss?” I asked, after getting Destiny into the chair.

Posey shrugged. “I didn’t honestly think about it. Is that a problem?” Her blue eyes, so filled with concern, enraptured me.

“No,” I said. “But a heads up would’ve been cool.”

Posey looked over her shoulder, then turned her attention back to me. “Is that considered a punishable offense?”

I chuckled and a wink. “No, but being sassy sure as hell is.”

Darcy walked in, effectively cutting off any further conversation. In her hands was a platter filled with a red glazed loaf of meat, a pile of what looked like creamy mashed potatoes and string beans.

“Let me help you with that.” I took it from Darcy before she could state otherwise. “Baby girl, would you mind gettin’ me Destiny’s diaper bag? I packed her dinner and snacks in there.”

Darcy was still fussing. For a moment, she reminded me of my mom and how everything had to be just so before we sat down for what my mom called a “special meal.”

“Set it on the two placemats, please,” Darcy ordered. After I placed the plate where she wanted it, she gave me the sweetest smile before thanking me.

Posey returned with the bag moments later, and I got to work setting up Destiny’s dinner. Both women watched me intently. “Go ahead and eat. I’ll feed Destiny first, then eat my meal once she’s finished.”

When neither of the ladies commented, I looked up from pulling all of Destiny’s shit from the bag. They still stared at me, and Posey had that soft expression on her face again.

“What?” I asked after I placed the spoon on the table—out of reach of little hands. I’d learned that lesson the hard way, wearing more sweet potatoes than Destiny had eaten.

All her food was homemade. Not because I had the time or the knowledge to make it. Ireland did it. She made my nephew’s food and started making double batches to share with me.

“I’ll feed her,” Darcy volunteered, skirting around the table, and moving everything to the head of the table where her wine rested near her plate. “You go ahead and eat.”

I glanced up at Posey, looking for some advice on how to handle this. A subtle shake of her head had me backed off, letting Darcy feed Destiny.

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