Care for me, p.4
Care for Me, page 4
Of course, whatever might happen needed to happen between the hours of eight and six, when Aurora was with Molly. And he was mostly working during that time. Still, narrow windows of opportunity had never been a hindrance to Rowan in the past, so why should they be now?
“What’s this?” Finn came into the break room and gestured toward the bakery box.
“Bear claws,” Aidan said. “In honor of Rowan’s return to work.”
“Nice.” Finn pulled a pastry out of the box and took a bite, then pulled a plate out of a cabinet, put the bear claw on it, and set about the work of pouring himself a mug of coffee. “How’s Molly?” he asked, and they all talked about that again.
Nolan was next, and he followed his brothers’ pattern of bear claw, coffee, and discussion of Molly’s well-being.
Shane was last, and it wasn’t Molly he asked about.
“So, how’s Aurora working out?” Shane stuck a bear claw into his face and looked at Rowan expectantly.
“She’s great.” Rowan bobbed his head agreeably. “It’s her first full day with Molly, and I’m feeling good about it. They really get along.”
The thing was, Aurora and Rowan really got along, too. Maybe that had something to do with the little bloom of warmth in his chest when Shane mentioned her.
“Must be weird having a woman in your house,” Aidan said. “Bustling around, doing domestic things.” He wiggled his fingers as he said domestic things, as though he were mimicking knitting, or maybe one of those vague tasks women did with needles and thread.
“Mostly I’m not there when she’s bustling around doing domestic things,” Rowan said. “But it’s nice more than it’s weird.”
Rowan had been surprised to find that was true. And the thing about him mostly not being there? It wasn’t strictly accurate. Yes, he used the time when Aurora was working to attend to his own business—personal maintenance, that sort of thing—but more and more, he liked to take a moment here and there just to watch Aurora with Molly.
Something about the two of them together—the way they just fit—made him happy. But he wasn’t about to say that in front of his brothers and take a round of shit for it.
“So, now that you’ve been sprung from prison,” Aidan said, “does that mean you’re available to go to Ted’s tonight?”
Rowan and his brothers had enjoyed a trip to the local dive bar a couple of nights a week before Molly’s arrival, but all that had changed once she’d been born. They still went without him sometimes, but they all complained that it wasn’t the same.
The thing was? A month ago, Rowan would have agreed that he’d been living in a kind of prison. But now, all he wanted was to enjoy a productive day at work and then get back into his cell.
“Nah, man,” he said. “Aurora goes home at six, and I don’t think I can bring a baby to a bar.”
“Maybe Mom could watch her,” Nolan suggested.
“I mean, yeah, she could,” Rowan agreed. “But I kind of want to get home to her after work. Screwing around with you assholes is great and all, but I want to spend time with my daughter.”
Rowan’s brothers broke into a chorus of aww and that’s sweet and, from Aidan, “Dude, I think I’m going to cry.”
“Dicks,” Rowan said, but he was smiling. For the first time, what he had waiting at home was better than whatever random woman he might meet at whatever random bar. And it felt good.
Really damned good.
Aurora had a plan for her first full morning with Molly. First, they would deal with the practical matters of food, a clean diaper, and getting dressed. Then Aurora would take Molly for a walk on the Moonstone Beach boardwalk in her stroller. After that, they would pick up some groceries for Rowan—that wasn’t strictly her job, but Aurora had offered when she’d seen how bare his refrigerator was—followed by a nap for Molly and some quiet time for Aurora.
At the daycare where she’d worked, she’d found that schedules and routines were helpful, if not for the babies themselves, then for the staff. If your time wasn’t organized in some orderly fashion, then the whole day became chaotic and you ended it both exhausted and feeling that you hadn’t accomplished a thing.
She’d already cleared it with Rowan that she would be taking the baby on outings, so she was content and humming softly as she strapped Molly into her car seat, then loaded the stroller into the trunk for their time at the beach.
The morning at Moonstone Beach was foggy and cool, so Aurora tucked Molly into her stroller with a light blanket before they set off on their walk.
The boardwalk wasn’t crowded today as it sometimes was—only a few people strolling or walking their dogs. A light wind ruffled Aurora’s hair, and the sound of the crashing surf seemed to soothe Molly, who was happily playing with her fingers in the stroller.
They walked over the rough wooden boards, the ocean air in Aurora’s lungs. To their left, the vast and restless ocean churned. To their right, Moonstone Beach Drive stretched out with its line of hotels and the occasional shop or restaurant.
Aurora moved to the right to allow a woman and her small terrier to pass. The woman stopped to peer into the stroller. “Oh, my goodness,” she said in the singsong voice people used around babies. “Your daughter is absolutely gorgeous.”
“Thank you, but she’s not my daughter. I’m her nanny.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then parted.
Now, Aurora was fighting back tears. When that woman had called Molly her daughter, Aurora had felt a stab of longing so intense it nearly brought her to her knees.
Well, that’s what she got for wasting years in a relationship that was never going to give her what she wanted. But she couldn’t have known she was wasting her time until that time was already gone.
Keith had been her neighbor in the apartment complex where she’d lived when she’d worked at the daycare in Portland. First, they’d gotten into the habit of chatting when they’d run into each other in the parking lot or at the complex’s bank of mailboxes. Then, they’d started meeting for coffee.
Aurora had liked him. He was good-looking, smart, and considerate of her feelings. He didn’t try to get her into bed right away the way so many men did. Instead, he’d taken the time to get to know her.
By the time they’d been dating for a year, it no longer made sense for them to have separate apartments, since they always seemed to be together at his place or hers. So when his lease came up for renewal, he didn’t sign it. Instead, he moved in with Aurora.
At first, everything was too new for them to talk about things like marriage and children. Besides, Aurora herself wasn’t sure what she wanted. She was young, and there was time.
Two years in, they were both too busy with work—him in construction, her at the daycare—to think about the future. They were enjoying what they had, weren’t they? Why push for more?
But eventually the things they hadn’t talked about yet became the things they were avoiding. And some time after that, they couldn’t avoid those things any longer.
“Where do you see this going?” Aurora asked him one day after work, when they were settled in at the dining room table with plates of pasta and glasses of wine. She’d cooked—she’d made an effort. All in anticipation of asking this question.
“This?” he asked.
“Yeah, this … us. Our relationship.”
It wasn’t that they’d never talked about marriage or their future before, but it was always in terms of someday. But they’d been together so long now that someday was either going to be soon, or it was going to be never.
“What is this?” Keith wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it carefully on the table beside his plate. “An ambush?”
He’d said it in a lighthearted tone, but the remark stung.
“I’m sorry you see it that way,” she said. “I just think that after five years, we should have some sort of a plan for where our relationship is headed.”
He reached out and took her hand. “Things are good now, aren’t they?”
“I guess so. Yes. They are.”
“Then why change anything? Why not just enjoy what we have?”
“Because I want more.”
Remembering the conversation, Aurora also remembered what her mother had told her—that if Keith were really serious about her, he’d have made a move already. Aurora wouldn’t have to be the one to do it.
She’d thought her mother had been meddling, but now Aurora could see that she was right.
“All right. What is it that you want?” Keith asked.
Marriage, she told him.
“We can do that,” he said, as though they were talking about trying a new restaurant instead of making a life together.
“We can?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Really?”
It had seemed like she was on the verge of getting everything she wanted. Until she told him she also wanted children.
Then he’d gone so quiet she’d wondered what she’d said wrong.
After that, it was all but over between them. The only thing left was sorting out his things from hers—his vinyl record collection, her books, his bicycling equipment, her craft supplies.
“You were right, Mom,” Aurora had told her mother tearfully when he’d moved out and it was finished.
“Oh, honey. I didn’t want to be right.”
And now here Aurora was, caring for someone else’s baby and thinking about all of the things she wanted for herself but didn’t have.
Well, she’d wasted enough time wishing. It was time to make things happen.
Chapter Six
Rowan came home from work late one day—he’d had an emergency with a one-year-old who’d had a severe allergic reaction to her first taste of peanut butter—to find Molly already down for the night and Aurora sitting on the sofa looking at her phone in frustration.
“What’s up?” He gestured toward the phone, which was on the receiving end of an impressive scowl from Aurora.
“This dating app. It seems simple enough, but I must be doing something wrong, because the responses are all horrible.”
Rowan’s eyebrows rose. “You’re on a dating app?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” She threw her free hand into the air. “That’s how people get together these days, isn’t it? And how else am I supposed to meet someone?”
“Yeah, okay.”
The idea of Aurora looking for men online was intriguing but also somehow unsettling. Intriguing, because it meant she wanted to get involved with someone. Unsettling, because if a woman like her had to resort to an app, then something was wrong with the world.
Usually if Rowan found out that a deeply attractive woman wanted a man in her life, he would simply volunteer. But this time, that wasn’t an option. He was her employer, after all. And if things went south—which they would—he’d be left without a truly excellent nanny.
At this point in his life, he needed a good nanny more than he needed to get laid. Which was really saying something.
So instead of offering some sort of come-on, he sat down on the sofa next to her and offered advice.
“Let me see your profile.” He held his hand out for her phone.
Aurora hesitated. “That just seems weird. You’re my boss.”
“Yeah, well, it’s up to you. I’m something of an expert on horrible men, being one myself, but it’s your call. You can either mine my expertise or keep fielding comments about your breasts.”
She gave him a side-eye. “How did you know they were commenting on my breasts?”
“Like I said, I’m an expert. Hand it over.” He held out his hand, and she gave him the phone. Rowan looked at Aurora’s profile picture—the low-cut top confirmed his guess that men were commenting on her breasts—and knew that if he were on this app, he’d have been pursuing her before he’d even read about her likes and dislikes, her relationship goals and plans for the future.
“Is my photo the problem? Does it look okay?” she asked.
“Your photo definitely is not a problem.” If Rowan didn’t know Aurora—if she weren’t his daughter’s nanny—then he’d probably be using that photo to fuel nighttime reveries the nature of which he didn’t want to think about in connection with his child.
But he did know her, so he pushed those thoughts aside and stuck to business. He looked at the information she’d posted: age—31, which made him wonder why she hadn’t found someone by now; likes—children and dogs; relationship goals—fun and maybe more.
“Ah, there’s the problem.” He pointed at the screen. “Fun and maybe more. It’s that word. Fun.”
“What’s wrong with fun?” Aurora asked.
“Nothing’s wrong with fun. I love fun. But it’s code for casual sex.”
Aurora’s jaw dropped and her eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “What!? It is not.”
“It most certainly is.”
“Fun is … fun! You know, dates! Laughter! Good times!”
“Good times while naked.”
Aurora stared at her profile and then gaped at Rowan. “All I meant by fun and maybe more was that we would go out a few times, have a few laughs, and then see where it goes! Not naked!”
“Yeah, well, that’s not how men read these things. They read it as, let’s jump into bed before we even know each other’s names.”
Aurora slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God.”
“It’s not a problem, though. We can fix it.” He clicked on the button to edit her profile and changed fun and maybe more to friendship and maybe more. Then he handed the phone back to her. “There. That says what you want it to say. That you’ll go out a few times without anybody taking their pants off, and if you like him, the pants removal might come later.”
“Well … yes. That’s more what I had in mind.”
“In the meantime, you can block these guys with the rude comments.” He showed her how. “Now let’s see what you get. Should be a lot closer to what you’ve got in mind.”
Aurora took three things away from the exchange with Rowan: one, he knew a lot about online dating. Two, she knew virtually nothing about it. And three, he had absolutely no interest in dating her himself.
Not that she wanted that. He was her employer, for God’s sake. But a little part of her had thought that if he knew she was in the market to meet someone, he might do … something. Give her some sort of indication that he could, under the right circumstances, have feelings for her himself.
Instead, he’d given her clear and helpful instructions for how to attract someone else. Obviously not interested.
Well, that was fine. Better, even. She didn’t want her employer hitting on her, even if her employer was a tall, wavy-haired doctor with a sexy smile and broad shoulders and—
Stop it, Aurora.
She was lonely, and he was here. That’s all it was. She’d have to be dead not to respond to how attractive he was, but that didn’t mean she was actually interested in him. Not at all.
By the time Aurora got home that night, she was already receiving better responses to her dating profile. Men were in her inbox asking questions about who she was, not making comments about how she looked. Her breasts weren’t even mentioned.
And if the men weren’t as attractive to her as Rowan was? Well, a girl had to make allowances.
After Aurora left, Rowan went to bed thinking about the fact that she was actively looking for a man.
Why shouldn’t she be? She was a consenting adult. She was single. And she was certainly entitled to a healthy, fulfilling romantic life.
But the idea of her dating some yahoo she didn’t even know, some guy who liked porn and played with his Xbox and who clearly didn’t deserve her? It bothered him.
Yes, it was true that Rowan himself liked occasional porn and played with an Xbox, but that was different. He was a man of hidden depths.
Well, now that he’d helped her, now that he’d set her on a certain path, dating-wise, he supposed it was his responsibility—his moral imperative, really—to make sure it went well for her. To vet any assholes who might come her way so he could weed them out. With extreme prejudice.
It was just the right thing to do.
Before bed, he went into Molly’s room to check on her and found her sleeping peacefully on her back, her little lips pursed, her eyelashes fanned across her cheeks. Aurora had dressed her in footie pajamas studded with romping bunnies.
Satisfied that his daughter was comfortable and well, he went to his room, stripped down, and got into bed.
Why wouldn’t Aurora be lonely? Hell, he was lonely, too. Maybe he should get on a dating app himself. Fun and maybe more.
In his case, he was interested in the fun more than he was interested in the maybe more.
He had more than enough going on at home without adding a woman to the mix.
Even if a woman like Aurora was pretty goddamned tempting.
Chapter Seven
Aurora’s next-door neighbor was a widow named Donna who had been her mother’s best friend. Donna was one of those active women in their sixties whose physical fitness put Aurora’s to shame.
Donna had been there every day while Aurora’s mother had been sick, and she still came by now and then to check on Aurora now that Madelyn was gone.
On Saturday morning—Aurora’s day off—Donna poked her head in through the kitchen door while Aurora was sipping her first cup of coffee.
“Hey. How are you doing, kid? You should be sleeping in, since it’s your day off.”
Aurora leaned her butt against the kitchen counter, her mug in her hands. She was wearing sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt in contrast to the Lycra workout gear Donna was decked out in. Even Donna’s silver pixie haircut was perky.
“If I’d slept in, I’d be awake now anyway because you’re here.”
