Читать книгу Hometown Valentine - Lissa Manley, Lissa Manley - Страница 11
ОглавлениеLily pulled into Blake’s driveway, her gaze roaming over the cute little 1940s house on Fogcutter Street, just east of downtown. His single-story home featured white paint, dark blue shutters flanking the windows and a wide front porch that was bare at the moment but would be a perfect place for a glider or swing.
The large lot had plenty of grass, lovely southern exposure and a picket fence running across the front yard. An ugly gray one that leaned to one side and had a few slats missing, but a picket fence nonetheless. The yard was a bit overgrown and neglected looking right now; clearly Blake didn’t have much time for gardening.
Little wonder, with everything he had going on.
Even so, it was a perfect house, replete with just the right amount of charm and old-fashioned flavor she loved so much.
Not that she’d ever live here. But the designer in her could see the potential and she could admire from afar.
She parked next to his compact car and sat for a moment, getting her nerves under control. She reiterated that she’d done the right thing by agreeing to babysit Peyton, both for Blake and for herself. She had to quit letting the prospect of working for him get to her. She was determined to contain her attraction and focus on Peyton. She could do this while remaining detached.
Taking a revitalizing breath, she climbed out of her car and hurried to the door, dodging raindrops. Even before she stood in front of the red wooden door, she could hear Peyton crying inside. Oh, boy. Blake had clearly been having a rough time.
She raised her hand to knock, but before she could, the door swung open.
A harried-looking Blake stood there with a screaming Peyton hoisted up over one shoulder. His hair was mussed and he had dark circles under his eyes. His jeans and T-shirt looked as if he’d slept—or perhaps not?—in them. He’d been through the wringer.
But he was still gorgeous. Of course. Maybe she’d been wishing he’d turn unattractive overnight? Not happening. Ever. She had to deal with it.
“Hey,” he said with a definitely weary edge to his voice. “Come on in.”
Lily stepped inside, determined to focus on the practical aspects of the situation. She made quick note of the living room, which was comprised of a tan microfiber love seat and sofa, dark wooden accent furniture and a large big-screen TV set at an angle in one corner. Nice, but bland. Very clean. But perfectly impersonal.
And...wow, there were vacuum marks in the carpet, as if he’d just vacuumed one minute ago. How odd. In her book, vacuuming would fall to just about last on the list if she were taking care of a fussy baby solo.
She turned her attention to Peyton. “She sounds like she doesn’t feel very well.”
“No, she doesn’t.” As he spoke, he shifted Peyton so she was lying down in his arms. Without missing a beat, he started the swing, swing, swing technique Lily had shown him a couple of days ago.
“Look at you,” she said, putting her purse on the couch that sat just to the left of the front door. “You’re a pro.”
He gave her a tired look edged in desperation. “Not really. I swung her like this all night long, and she still didn’t sleep much.” He yawned. “And neither did I.”
Lily held her hands up. “You want me to try?”
“Definitely,” he said, coming closer. “Here you go.”
He bent down slightly so the baby was at Lily’s level, and a whiff of his woodsy, masculine-smelling aftershave wafted through the air, right to her nose. It was all she could do to hold out her hands steadily as he transferred Peyton to her.
His arms touched Lily’s and she felt her knees tremble and her tummy somersaulted. She steeled herself and took the baby, keeping her in a prone position, trying to ignore Blake, which was about as easy as trying to ignore breathing.
“I’ve got her,” Lily managed, but her voice came out breathily. She zeroed in on Peyton’s red face, and then as soon as was practically possible Lily scooted away into the safety zone.
Able to breathe again, Lily started the swing, concentrating on Peyton rather than her wonderful-smelling uncle. She walked over to the big picture window that looked out over the front yard and did her baby calming there, moving in a small circle.
Hold the baby close. Swing, swing, swing.
Ignore the attractive man across the room.
Rinse. Repeat.
After a few circles, Peyton’s cries quieted. Lily kept it up and added a little extra flare at the end of each swing to further soothe Peyton. Her brother Liam always liked that motion.
From the corner of her eye, Lily saw Blake watching her intently, his hands on his hips. She tried to ignore him, but that proved impossible. Suddenly self-conscious, she went against her instincts and met his gaze.
His blue eyes grabbed on to her gaze.
“What are you doing?” she said in a loud whisper.
“I’m watching.”
She froze and a tingle ran up her spine. “Watching?”
“Your technique,” he said quietly. “Clearly you have some kind of magic way of soothing her. I’m watching and learning.”
“Oh. Of course.” She swallowed. So he was learning. It still unnerved her to have his gaze glued to her. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
He ran a hand over his face. “I hope so. This no-sleeping thing is going to catch up with me any day now.” Blinking, he shook his head. “Maybe it already has.”
“Good thing you have an unlimited supply of caffeine waiting for you at work,” Lily said, looking for levity. Anything to counterbalance the off-balance way his scrutiny made her feel.
He smiled. “Yeah, I never thought of that.”
“Well, there you go.” She looked down at Peyton. “She’s almost asleep. Where do you want her?”
He crooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Follow me.”
He headed down the hall to the right and Lily followed, keeping her steps fluid and smooth in the interest of keeping Peyton asleep. They passed two bedrooms and then, at the end of the hall, he went into the third one.
Lily stepped into the room. Gray morning light spilled in from the large window on the wall directly across from the door. The walls were plain white and devoid of any decorations. An oak crib with pink bumpers sat against one wall and there was a changing table nearby and a matching dresser, too, upon which sat a baby monitor. A bentwood rocker graced the near corner of the room. Two baskets of neatly folded laundry sat in front of the closet.
Blake went to the crib and pulled the fuzzy pink blankets back, looking Lily’s way. She got the message and moved in and gingerly lifted Peyton into the crib and laid her down on her back. As Lily withdrew her arms, she held her breath in hopes the baby would sleep on even though she wasn’t held snugly in Lily’s arms.
After a moment, Peyton let out a little whimper, stiffening and flailing a little hand in the air. Lily froze and she saw Blake do the same. But then the baby settled, and finally she slept, her little bow mouth working as she drifted off.
Lily looked at Blake, nodding. She mouthed, “She’s asleep.”
He nodded, then pointed to the door.
Lily turned and tiptoed out.
Blake followed, pulling the door closed behind him but leaving it ajar, pointing down the hall, indicating Lily should go back into the living room.
She headed to the other end of the house, mentally ticking off a checklist that had been forming in her head ever since she’d agreed to be Peyton’s nanny. Get fussy baby to sleep—check. Now, if she could simply meet and defeat the challenge of keeping her interest in Blake strictly professional, she’d be cool.
When she reached the living room, she turned, intending to ask Blake about Peyton’s meal schedule.
Before she could speak, Blake bowed with a flourish. “I bow down to you, oh wise and wonderful baby whisperer.” He straightened. “Please, share your secrets with me, the lowly man who’s deprived of sleep.”
She smiled, liking this playful side of him. Unable to resist his bantering, she held her hand up, palm out. “Please, please. Save your applause for later.”
He cocked his head at an angle. “Oh, so you think I’m joking?”
She blinked. “Aren’t you?”
“Not even close,” he said. “I thought it was a fluke when you managed to get her to sleep at The Cabana the other day. But now?” He shook his head. “You seem to have some kind of charmed way of getting Miss Fussypants to sleep.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you stressed out?”
He frowned.
“Just bear with me,” she said. “Are you stressed out?”
“Yeah, I am,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “I’ve got a business to run and a sick baby to take care of.”
“So you’re understandably tense. I get it. You have every right to be that way.” She smoothed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “The thing is, babies can sense tension, and from my experience with my brothers and sisters, they tend to feed on it.”
“So I’m passing my tenseness on to Peyton?”
“To some extent, yes.”
His face fell.
“Not on purpose, of course,” she quickly said. “But my point is this. If you relax, she’ll relax.”
“I don’t even know what relaxing is these days,” he said with a grimace. “I just run from one crisis to another.”
His life sounded insanely chaotic. No wonder he and Peyton weren’t getting any rest. He was overwhelmed.
He looked at his watch, punctuating her thoughts about how busy he was. “Oh, wow, it’s getting late. Why don’t we go into the kitchen and I’ll go over things.”
“Good idea.”
He turned and headed through a doorway that, presumably, led to the kitchen.
Lily followed, curious to see the rest of the house.
She stepped into the kitchen and drew up short, taken aback at the room’s obvious lack of personality. The counters were devoid of anything, and the stainless steel appliances sparkled with nary a fingerprint visible. The tile floor sparkled, and a vague hint of floor cleaner hung in the air.
Had he actually mopped the floor this morning? And vacuumed, too?
She shifted her gaze around. The small breakfast nook held a small round table that had the chairs arranged around it in perfect precision, as if they’d been placed using a ruler. And the window above the gleaming stainless steel sink was so clear she would have sworn there was no glass in its panes.
It was a spare, cleaned-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life space and held no personal touches or evidence that anyone had ever eaten—much less cooked or enjoyed—a meal within the walls of the room.
In fact, the whole house smacked of a blank, antiseptic cleanliness that set her back a bit. She’d grown up in a messy, relaxed household, one where cleaning only happened when absolutely necessary. This place was so impersonal, so cold it made her sad.
She slanted her gaze to Blake. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.
She swallowed a comment about the odd sterility of the place out of politeness. But the room spoke volumes about Blake and what was important to him.
And she had a sneaking suspicion she’d just agreed to work for a control freak of major proportions.
* * *
At about 11:00 a.m., during a lull in business—okay, the whole morning had been one big lull—Blake left the front counter in Jonah’s care and headed into his office to catch up on paperwork.
He was going to run an ad in the Moonlight Cove Gazette offering a two-for-one coffee deal on Tuesdays from noon to five as a way to drum up business. He couldn’t afford a graphic designer, so he was going to come up with something himself. He sat down behind his desk and booted up his computer, then went to the file he’d saved that contained the rough idea he’d come up with using a template he’d found on the internet. He put on his artist hat and tried to come up with something that was simple yet eye-catching.
His mind turned to Peyton. Poor little thing. Though her temperature had been normal when he’d left home, he still worried. He’d done a bit of research on the internet this morning and had read that viruses in infants her age could quickly turn serious.
Maybe he should check in with Lily again. Yeah, he would. He wouldn’t be able to focus on his work until he did. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and swiped it on. Then he went to Contacts and pressed the button for Lily he’d created while he’d been going over instructions with her this morning.
He tapped his fingers on his desk while the phone rang on the other end. After five rings, Lily answered. “Hello?” No crying in the background. That was good.
“Hi, it’s me,” he said, his shoulders tensing.
“I know it’s you.”
Right. Her phone would tell her that. He got to the heart of the matter. “How’s Peyton?”
“She’s the same as she was when you called an hour ago.”
Had it only been an hour? “Still sleeping?”
“No, she’s awake now, and I’m making lunch.”
“Any fever?” he asked, praying it was still down.
“No, she feels cool to the touch.”
Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “Did you need to change her diaper?”
A sigh echoed through the line. “Yes, I did need to, and I did.”
He stood up. “The diaper disposer is in her closet—”
“I know, you showed me where it was.”
“Oh, yeah.” He rose and paused, the outside of his thigh propped against his desk. “What’s for lunch?”
A moment of silence. “Blake, do you trust me?”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “Of course.” Lily was levelheaded and smart, and had lots of experience with babies.
“Then you need to quit calling every hour and let me take care of Peyton.”
He grimaced. “I’m bothering you, aren’t I?”
“You’re concerned, I get that. But what’s the point of having me here if you’re doing all the work remotely?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She made a good point.
“I have this handled. I’ve got nothing else to do but focus on Peyton. Let me do that, and I promise if anything changes or if I have a question, I’ll call.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m overcontrolling.”
“A bit, yes. But with the best of intentions,” she said softly.
“I’m glad you see it that way.” Some people wouldn’t be so gracious; his need for control wasn’t always received well. Amy had chided him for the trait endlessly.
“Definitely. But you have to allow yourself some distance so you can take care of The Cabana. That’s why you hired me, right?”
“Right.”
“Then let me do my job, and I’ll be in touch if I need anything.”
“Okay.” He needed to back off.
“Would it make you feel better if I checked in every few hours?”
“Yes, probably.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.” She paused. “Let’s see. It’s just after eleven. How about I check in at two?”
“Um, well...” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “That seems like a long time.”
“Okay, how about one-thirty?”
“Sounds good.” Surely he could go two and a half hours without checking in.
“I’ll talk to you then.” A moment passed. “Oh, and, Blake?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this covered.”
His tense shoulders eased down all the way. “I know you do,” he said truthfully. “You’re very capable. Peyton’s in excellent hands, I know that.” Lily was better with Peyton than he was.
“Okay, then. Try to relax. Bye.”
“Bye.”
He pressed End and shoved his cell into his pants pocket. Boy, did he feel foolish. He’d been a pest this morning. In his defense, though, this was the first time he’d left an ill Peyton. He’d never imagined how hard it would be to turn over her care to someone else when she wasn’t feeling well. All of his protective instincts were on high alert.
He sat back down behind his desk. He had to find a way to let go of Peyton during the workday or The Cabana would be toast. He trusted Lily implicitly. She’d really saved the day by agreeing to fill in for Mrs. Jones. And the last thing he wanted was for her to think he didn’t have faith in her. He had to quit bugging her and rest assured that she would call if Peyton took a turn for the worse.
