Don’t fall for the single dad

Chapter 1

one

   ASHER

   “All her clothes are here, and I didn’t leave anything at my place, so there should be no reason to use the key, but it’s here just in case. The numbers for her pediatrician, audiologist, speech pathologist, and occupational therapist are all listed in the binder,” Sara, my ex—if you can call her that since we never dated—says as I make faces at Olivia, my daughter. “You should consider moving her to the room next to yours and giving the nanny the upstairs, but I’m sure you’ll ignore that suggestion. There’s also a bag with her school supplies. I put some of her favorite snacks in another bag as well as some other—Asher! Are you even listening?”

   I turn to Sara, making sure Olivia can still see my lips. “Yes, I’m listening. Yes, I know all of this. Yes, I will make sure Olivia goes to school, brushes her teeth, puts pants on, and eats.”

   “And the room?”

   “I’m not moving her room. She loves her room more than the one at your house.”

   Sara doesn’t look amused by my response. She turns to Olivia and signs while speaking the words so I can hear, which is what we do whenever having a conversation with Olivia. “Your father is a turd. Make sure he doesn’t miss your appointments and follows the schedule in the binder.”

   Olivia smiles. “I love you, Mommy. I will take care of him.”

   “Hey, I am a grown-up who can take care of everything,” I sign and speak back.

   They both laugh. “Sure you are, Ash. Now, this binder has everything. I worked hard on it, so please make sure you follow it.”

   She’s absolutely nutty with her demands for perfection and detail. I’d much rather let things go with the flow. She’s always been this way though, which is why we are much better off as friends who just happen to have a daughter.

   We were a casual, fun thing. Neither of us wanted a relationship, but that’s exactly what we have now—a lifelong, co-parenting friendship. It works for the most part.

   “You know, I am a really good father. I’ve taken care of her since she was born.”

   Sara eyes me. “You’ve never had her like this. Not for months while I was out of the country.”

   “We’ll be fine. We can’t mess it up with your binder in hand,” I say with a smirk.

   She rolls her eyes and then moves to Olivia with tears forming. Great. This is going to be an hour-long goodbye that will make Sara late for her car and make it so the driver has to drive like an asshole to get to Philly on time for her flight. She’ll probably ask me for a police escort because she’s already cutting it close with her time.

   Not that I blame her. I would be losing my mind if I had to leave Olivia for this long.

   For the next five and a half months, Sara will be on assignment in Israel. She’s filming a documentary about something she mentioned, but I tuned out. I do know that it’s an amazing career opportunity for her, and that means my three nights a week are now full time. God help Livvy and me.

   But we have the binder, so we’ll survive according to her mother.

   Sara crouches in front of her. “I am going to miss you so much. I love you with my whole heart. Be good for Daddy.”

   Olivia’s eyes shimmer with tears. “I will miss you. Can we video call?”

   She nods. “As much as possible. I will be very busy, and there is a time difference, but I will try to call daily.”

   “You’re going to miss your flight,” I remind Sara about that pesky thing called a plane schedule.

   “It can wait.”

   “Yes, but it won’t.”

   Sara rises, wiping her cheeks. “I want daily updates either by text or email. I want to know how she’s doing and how you’re surviving. God knows you’ll only be alive thanks to the nanny.”

   I clutch my hand to my chest. “I’ll miss you too, dear.”

   She laughs. “Do you have your childcare all set? You went through the agency I told you about and made sure the nanny knows ASL?”

   “Was that what I was supposed to do?”

   She huffs. “Of all the men . . .”

   “You were lucky enough to have a child with me. I know. You’re welcome.”

   “I could’ve done worse.”

   I take that as a compliment.

   Her eyes well up with tears again as she looks at Liv.

   “I can’t go,” she admits, tears now ready to spill over.

   Time to be a dick and force her to leave. “Sara, leave now so you make your flight and you don’t make this harder on Liv.”

   “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be the same. She’s not”—Sara turns so Olivia can’t see what she says—“she’s special. What if the agency screws up? What if you forgot to tell them she’s deaf and they send someone who can’t sign? I don’t want her to be stuck unable to communicate.”

   “I didn’t forget to tell them that. I’m just as concerned as you are, and I would never go to work if they sent someone who couldn’t take care of our daughter.”

   Olivia is completely Deaf because of complications with preeclampsia. With her hearing aids, she can hear certain sounds or pitches, but just barely, and she can’t make out any words. Sara and I learned ASL as soon as we discovered her hearing loss and fought to get the best care all around, but Liv is really good with reading lips.

   Sara’s full-time nanny, Denise, who learned ASL as well, moved to Florida a week ago to get married. Great timing on that one.

   I take Sara’s shoulders in my hands and breathe deeply until she does the same. “You have a flight to catch. I am a fantastic father. Olivia will be fine. The agency said they’d get someone who could sign, all will be well.”

   “You’re so infuriating with your constant calm attitude.”

   I shrug. “It’s better than flipping out, especially in my job.”

   Cool heads always prevail. At least that’s what I tell myself. I love being a small-town sheriff. There’s not much trouble in town other than the kids knocking mailboxes off with a bat or someone stealing a cow and moving it to another pasture for fun. It’s the same thing my brothers and I did growing up in Michigan, so I can’t be too mad at them.

   Although, we weren’t big mailbox guys. I never saw the fun in damaging a neighbor’s property, and our mom would’ve had our heads if she’d ever found out.

   I am also the newly appointed SWAT commander, which means I have to be steady and always look at the whole picture. That is what I’m doing now.

   Now that I’m thinking about it, my trying to coax Sara to leave the house on time does seem like a hostage negotiation.

   “I can do this. She’ll be fine. You’re a good dad, and you love her.” She looks down at Olivia and whimpers a little. “I have to go, sweet girl.”

   Olivia waves to her.

   They both sign. “I love you.”

   Sara wipes at her cheeks and pulls me in for a hug. “I’ll be back in less than six months.”

   “And it will be just like you left it—other than the matching tattoos we get tomorrow.”

   “Asher,” she warns.

   “Seriously, Sara, just go. I promise that I can handle this.”

   I have no choice because if she comes back and Olivia isn’t in perfect condition, she might chop my balls off.

   She grabs her bag, flings it onto her back, and heads to the front door. Sara’s tears are flowing steadily as she walks out without looking back.

   I stare at the heavy oak door, waiting, and she doesn’t fail. She comes back into the house, scooping Livvy into her arms and kissing her cheeks. Then she punches me in the arm.

   “Predictable.”

   She flips me off. “Be good. Don’t get into trouble and don’t forget to feed her!”

   “It was one time!” I yell back at her as the door shuts.

   Once I’m sure she’s gone, I turn back to Liv. “I’m off today and the new nanny comes tomorrow, let’s make some trouble. Anyone we should invite?”

   She grins. “Uncle Rowan!”

   I laugh because, out of any of the Whitlock brothers, Rowan is definitely the most likely to cause trouble. “Get your sweatshirt. I’ll let him know.”

   Olivia runs off, and I text my brother.

   I’m heading to the creek if you want to come fish with Livvy.

   Rowan

   I have to finish up on the farm, but I’ll be done in about an hour. Not in the mood to see you, but since you mentioned Olivia, I’ll come.

   Such a dick.

   See you then.

   As the oldest Whitlock, it was predetermined I would take over my grandparents’ farm, but they quickly realized that it was completely out of the realm of my capabilities. I hate the cows, and they hate me, so it was better for everyone that I was not in charge of anything livestock related. I gifted my brother the land and the bunk house on the back property for him to do what he wanted, and now he runs a dairy farm.

   Rowan

   Don’t forget to feed her before we go.

   What the fuck is with everyone and feeding Olivia? I forgot one time and I’ll never live it down. Unreal.

   Fuck off. She’s fed.

   Olivia runs in with her sweatshirt, and I let her know our plan. “Uncle Rowan has to finish work, so we can go to the farm and annoy him before we go fishing, does that sound good?”

   She squeals and, without hesitation, goes out back toward the barn where we keep all our fun toys—including the fishing gear. Liv is more like me than Sara would like. She loves the outdoors and doing pretty much anything adventurous.

   Which makes her paranoid mother nuts.

   I refuse to allow her inability to hear to hinder her life.

   I meet her in the barn, laughing because it’s really not a barn. It’s more of a shack of toys. I have two ATVs and dirt bikes, which Sara does not know about. There’s also hunting and fishing gear, tents . . . you name it, and it’s here.

   Olivia turns to me. “Can we take your dirt bike?”

   “Not until your mother is in Israel and can’t kill me.”

   She grins. I love that she’ll cover for me.

   “I forgot something,” Livvy informs me and then rushes back into the house.

   I watch her go through the big back door, smiling at how the house has turned out. I inherited my grandparents’ house upon my mother’s death. It’s small, but I love it. They raised six kids in this three-bedroom house, so it’s plenty big for me.

   I did a bit of remodeling when my mother died.

   Originally all three bedrooms were on the first level, and in order to give me, Rowan, and Brynlee more bathrooms, I gutted the attic. I put two bedrooms and a bath up there—one for Brynn and one for Rowan. Grady was never coming back, so I didn’t give much thought about him.

   When Olivia was born, she was in the room next to mine, but about three years ago, Brynn suggested putting her upstairs with her. I wasn’t sure, but she and Brynn are thick as thieves, so I went with it. My annoying sister moved out a year later, and I converted her room into a play area. When Liv is here, I usually crash on the couch in there.

   Downstairs, I just extended the house a bit to make the master bigger and then converted the other bedroom to be a suite in case I had . . . company. That way, my daughter never sees a girl coming out of my bedroom.

   However, it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve needed to worry about that.

   The house phone is ringing, and it’s incredibly loud because Liv can sometimes hear that noise, so I rush in to grab it because not many people call me on that line.

   Yeah, I know, who the hell has a house phone anymore? Well, when you live somewhere where having reliable cell reception reminds you of being a kid holding the antenna with tin foil on the end to get a picture on the television, you do what you must.

   “Hello?”

   “Hi, Mr. Whitlock, this is Stephanie from the nanny agency.”

   Good, she’s calling to confirm, and I can tell Sara to suck it. “Hi, Stephanie. I’m assuming we’re all set for tomorrow?”

   She pauses, and my heart sinks. “About that . . . I know it’s a requirement to have a nanny who knows ASL.”

   “Yes . . .”

   “So, she just quit, and unfortunately, I don’t have another nanny with that capability. We could make it work. I’m assuming Olivia can write? She can jot down whatever she wants to say.”

   Not a chance in hell. “No, thank you. I’ll figure something else out until you can find me someone who can use ASL.”

   Stephanie sighs. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Whitlock. I have searched two counties and have come up short. I’ll continue to look, and if you find someone else, please let us know.”

   Fuck, I’m sure there’s no solution for this in the binder.

   * * *

   “I’m sorry, Chief, I can’t make it today.”

   “Asher, you’re the SWAT commander, you have to be here. There’s no one else who can take your place while Billingsly is on baby leave.”

   I run my hand over my face, frustrated because I know this. I can’t call out, but I can’t leave Olivia with someone who can’t communicate with her.

   I’ve called everyone. My sister is getting ready for finals and in the middle of a big case that she has to be in court for. Rowan said there’s some big cow crisis—also, I am one thousand percent sure that Sara would have my ass if I left her with him, and my other brother is at war, so he’s out.

   I even went so far as to call her former nanny and ask her to leave her honeymoon and husband so she could come help me. That went over about as well as I thought it would.

   My options are limited.

   “I understand that, sir, but I can’t leave Olivia either. She comes first.”

   He sighs heavily. “Yes, of course. You said the nanny quit?”

   I re-explain everything about the service and Sara leaving. I have never called out. My job is not only something I love but also something I’m good at. When I was promoted to the SWAT commander, I took it very seriously. My men and women rely on me, and we’re a team. Olivia is my daughter, though, and I can’t leave her with someone who can’t understand what she’s saying. She doesn’t speak.

   “Well, I have a solution for the both of us.”

   “You do?” I ask, curious where exactly he’s going to find a nanny who knows ASL on short notice.

   “Yes, actually, Phoebe came home two days ago from school, and she can sign.”

   I laugh once. “No.”

   There is not a chance in hell that Phoebe Bettencourt is watching Olivia. No way. Not after the last time.

   “Why not?”

   While he believes his precious daughter is great, she’s the worst babysitter ever. The last time I had her watch my daughter was six years ago, and I came home to find that Olivia had cut her own hair. Three-year-olds do not cut their own hair well.

   “I think we both know why.”

   “It was a long time ago, and she’s grown up since then.”

   Yeah, and Sara lost her damn mind when I brought Olivia home with a new hairdo. “I’m sure she has, but I’m not trusting her with Liv.”

   “Listen, she’s finishing her first year of grad school, she’s an audiology major, and she knows ASL. I don’t know what else you could want in a babysitter for Olivia. I know that Phoebe had that small mishap, but she’s a great kid.”

   “I don’t need a kid watching my kid, Anthony. I need a trained nanny who will not get lost in her phone while my child burns the house down.” I might be a bit harsh, but it’s not like Phoebe has the best track record. That girl is a flighty mess with bad decision-making abilities. Take away the hair cutting incident, I can’t tell you how many times I pulled her over when she lived here. She drives like a maniac, but I couldn’t even ticket her because her father is my damn boss.

   “Well, then you’re going to have to get another nanny who can communicate with Liv another way because you’re needed here. There is no one else who can manage the team if they’re called out. I gave you a solution to the issue. Give her a chance, Asher. You’ll be close if anything happens, but she’s not eighteen anymore.”

   His solution really isn’t one, but I feel like I’m being torn apart. I can’t let Olivia or my team down. “If I do this, I need to stay in Sugarloaf so I can be close in case of any . . . issues.”

   “If you’re required to go to another town, I’ll check in on Olivia myself. Look, you don’t know when you’re going to get a nanny, and Phoebe is home and not doing anything. This will give her a job, and it helps you out. I don’t want to see you lose the position you worked so hard for,” he says as a reminder.

   I’m not sure another option is even out there. “Fine, but one screwup, and I’ll step away from SWAT, consequences be damned.”

   And if that happens, I might lose my damn mind.

Chapter 2

two

   PHOEBE

   “Are you going to tell me what happened?” Daddy asks as he sits on the edge of my bed.

   “Nothing happened,” I lie.

   What else can I do? I can’t tell him the truth about why I’m home three weeks early from my first year in grad school and not going back—at least not to that university.

   My father is a strict man. A strong man who raised his daughter to be just as fierce, so I can handle the ridicule at school and the whispers, but I can’t handle disappointment from him.

   So, I’ll lie to the only man who has never let me down.

   Way to go, Phoebe. Another notch on your belt of awesomeness.

   “Birdie, I may be a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. We both know I can smell bullshit a mile away.”

   I turn over to face him, knowing that if I want him to believe the lie, I have to believe it myself. That means looking him in the eyes when I say it.

   His shiny badge glints in the small beam of sunlight streaming through my curtains, reminding me that he, in fact, is trained to cut through the crap. “I love you, but you’re going to have to trust me. Nothing happened besides finishing my classes early. All of my finals are online, so there was no need for me to sit in Iowa when I could be home with you.”

   His eyes narrow, but I stand my ground. There is some truth in my words.

   “Then why were you crying last night?”

   Shit. He heard me.

   “Because Emmeline called, and we miss each other.” Sounds plausible.

   Emmeline MacAllister is my roommate, my best friend, and the only person who didn’t call me a liar. Never once did her support waver, and if it weren’t for her, I never would have survived. I know that sounds dramatic, and it probably is, but the last three months have been hell.

   I’ve been taunted, have been talked about like I wasn’t there, and have been called horrible names, but the final straw was finding out that people were taunting Emmeline as well.

   That was it. I couldn’t stay. No matter what happened, I couldn’t let my friend deal with the blowback of my stupidity. I went to each professor, gave some excuse about a family emergency, was granted permission to take my finals online with a ten-point deduction on each one, and I left two days later.

   I hadn’t left fast enough to avoid yet another colossal fuckup that Emmeline had to help me clean up.

   He sighs heavily. “I don’t believe a word you said, but I am a smart enough man to know not to push.”

   I smile at him. “Thanks, Daddy.”

   “Don’t thank me yet, Phoebe, I didn’t say tomorrow I wouldn’t be dumb.” My father kisses my forehead. “I’m off to work. I’ll be home around seven for dinner.”

   I guess that means I’m back on kitchen duty. “I’ll be here.”

   Wallowing.

   I flop back, wishing my mother were alive because she’d know what to do. My father is the chief of our small police department and very overprotective. Not in a bad way, but he just wants to put me in a glass case where I can’t be hurt.

   Really, I just want to put my past behind me and move forward. I’m not sure what that looks like because I need to find a graduate program for audiology that will accept me extremely late, take all my credits from my first year, and offer me financial aid, which won’t be easy. I was at University of Iowa, which I loved. It was a great campus, and the second-best program in the country. Everything was perfect.

   Until I met him.

   I hear the front door close, leaving me alone in my feelings and self-hatred.

   My phone rings, and Emmeline’s face paints my screen.

   “Why are you up so early?” I ask as a greeting.

   “I never went to sleep. I’m studying, which I hope you’re doing as well,” her soft voice chides.

   “I get to take my other final with an open book, I better pass.”

   I finished one last night, which was proctored over video to ensure I couldn’t use a book.

   Emmeline laughs. “Lucky bitch.”

   “Oh, yeah, I’m swimming in luck.”

   “You could always come back . . .”

   That’s not really an option, and we both know it. I can’t return to the place that is going to shame me while the man who ruined my life walks around, playing the victim and still able to do it to another girl.

   “We both know the answer to that.”

   “I feel like you should’ve stayed so he would have had to look at you and know that he did nothing to help you.”

   “We don’t mention him,” I warn.

   Emmy sighs. “Fine, but you running away doesn’t change things. You need to learn to stand your ground . . .”

   “And what would that have done? Nothing. All it would’ve accomplished was teaching me not to cry when people called me a homewrecker. A liar. I saw all the comments, Emmy. All of them saying the same thing. ‘Oh, look, another girl wanting a better grade’ or ‘Too bad I can’t get an A for having tits’ or ‘Talk about desperate, he looks appalled.’ None of that was true. I am not a slut or a homewrecker!”

   Emmeline stops me. “I know you’re not. I saw how he was with you with my own eyes.”

   “I know. I . . . God, I’m so stupid. Do you know how often I tell myself that? I trusted him and believed every pretty lie because he made me feel special.”

   “You are special, Phoebe. You’re beautiful and smart, and he took advantage of you.”

   That may be so, but it doesn’t matter. I was “that” girl. The one who sleeps with her professor. Who bought into the promises and the hopes of a future that never existed because he was already married.

   “It doesn’t matter. I’m back in Sugarloaf, where life is dull and I will never have to see him again. The town that reminds me of all the mistakes I’ve made.”

   “You can always come visit me at Cloverleigh Farms if you want to get away from it all.”

   She’s offered it many times, and honestly, I may go. No one knows me there, and my father and all his keen police sleuthing will be at a distance.

   “I might take you up on it.” I flop back onto the pillow, letting out a long sigh. “Lord knows I could really use a freaking vacation from my life.”

   “What are you going to do about transferring?” she asks.

   As soon as people found out about Jonathan and me, there was no other option but to leave. Someone took a photo of me with my arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him, and posted it.

   That was bad enough, but they put it right beside a photo of him holding his son and his wife. That was how I found out Jonathan was not divorced like he told me. Instead of him taking any responsibility, he told everyone that I came onto him.

   The last week of my life has been hell.

   “I’m going to have to apply to some schools and explain my situation. I have the grades, but I just don’t know if all my credits will transfer, so it may set me back time and money. Maybe Professor Calloway will help. She was really kind and told me to reach out if I needed anything.”

   “I’m sorry, Phoebs.”

   “It’s my fault. I . . . have to accept the consequences.”

   “What did your dad say? Or have you not told him about why you came home?”

   “I’m not telling him anything. He’ll never understand, and I really can’t face that kind of disappointment from him. I hate myself enough as it is.”

   Emmeline goes silent for a minute. “I’ve said it a hundred times, but you’re not the only one to blame, and you’re definitely not the first girl to sleep with her professor.”

   “Married professor. Married and lying professor.” My heart drops because I live with this shame and regret. I don’t know what to do next. Where do I go? How do I salvage this, and do I disclose any of this going forward when the questions come? “Emmy . . .”

   “Yeah?”

   Before I can ask her any of it, there’s a knock on my door. “Shit, my dad is back. I’ll call you later.”

   I end the call, force myself out of bed, and open the door. “Everything okay?” I ask. “I thought you left.”

   “I did, but I completely forgot that I need your help with something.”

   “Of course, with what?”

   He runs his hand down his face. “I know you’re home early and have things you’d rather do, but you know we’re all about helping people around here.”

   Oh, this sounds promising.

   “Right, and I have a feeling what you’re about to ask me to do isn’t my idea of fun.”

   He shakes his head. “No, but you’re pretty much the only person in the world who can help, so I need you to think before you reply.”

   “Okay.”

   “I need you to nanny for a little girl until they find a suitable replacement.”

   Uh, of all the things he would ask, I never would’ve thought it would be to nanny for someone. I have babysat a total of three times in my life. The first time, the kid ran away and I had to call my father to search for him. The second time, we ended up in the ER because when her parents said peanut allergy, they meant nut allergy. And the last time was when I was watching Asher Whitlock’s daughter and she cut her own hair—and not just a trim to the bangs. No, she cut her hair to her scalp on the side. It happened so fast, and I’d felt horrible, which only just got worse when he got home and lectured me about paying attention. I hate that guy.

   “Dad, we both know I am not really good with kids.”

   “No, but she’s not little, and it has to be you. You’re the only one who can handle this.”

   “Why?” Dread fills me because if it has to be me, then it’s for a particular skill set I have, and that means it’s—

   “Asher’s nanny quit, and I need him at work.”

   Yeah, about that luck I don’t have, it’s officially gone.

   * * *

   You can do this, Phoebe. You’re not a little girl anymore. You are a strong, independent woman who has been through the wringer, but that’s okay. It builds character. Watching a kid for the summer may not have been part of the plan, but neither was sleeping with your married professor, and you’re still breathing. Asher Whitlock doesn’t scare you, and you definitely are not into him. Sure, he’s ridiculously hot, but you’re not into hot guys. You know how that turns out. She’s not three, she’s nine and probably won’t want to cut her hair again. You’ll do this for Daddy, get some money, which you desperately need because you had to pull money from your inheritance to get home and . . . you’re a mess.

   As I open my eyes to exit the car, I scream when I see Asher standing there, arms crossed as he watches me through the window.

   “You scared me!” I yell.

   He doesn’t say anything back, just looks at me and . . . dear God. This man is even better looking than I remembered. He’s one of those cops you see on social media whose posts are full of comments like:

   He can arrest me any day.

   Excuse me, officer, I’ve broken the law. Come find me.

   Are handcuffs included in every package?

   Yeah, he’s that guy. Tall, dark brown hair that has this slight wave through it, scruff along his chiseled jaw, and eyes that could do a girl in. The different shades of blue almost swirl, and one second, it’s sapphire, and the next, you’re sure it’s aqua.

   Anyway, those eyes are trained on me and not in a sexy way.

   I roll the window down and try to salvage this so I don’t look ridiculous. “Hey. I’m here.”

   “And late.”

   I huff. “And not late, thank you. I have five more minutes until I am required to be here, which is fantastic considering I was just told about this an hour ago.”

   “This is a mistake.”

   My brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

   “You have been sitting in your car talking to yourself for the last three minutes. Also, why are you out here?”

   “Because you need someone to watch Olivia . . .” Duh.

   “I meant the car. Why aren’t you inside, meeting Olivia and preparing? I have to be at the station in ten minutes.”

   “You mean the one that’s a whole street over?” I ask, refusing to let him push me around. “How ever will you make it on time? Listen, if you’re late, I’ll call Daddy and ask him to let you off with a warning. Can you scoot so I can get out please?”

   He takes two whole steps back, which gives me just enough room to open the door without hitting him.

   “As soon as the agency finds a replacement,” Asher mutters.

   That’s a relief. I might not have to do this all summer. Thank the Lord. “You know, you could say thank you, considering I’m giving up part of my summer to help you out.”

   It’s really hard growing up in a town like this. Every mistake you make is part of the gossip mill, and no matter how small or insignificant it is, you never get to live it down. Sometimes, you can’t even live down the stuff you didn’t actually do either. Like when I took the heat for the senior prank that involved putting food dye in the pool and turning half the swim team blue. Why were the fingers pointed at me? Because no one would think to upset the chief by blaming his daughter when they all want favors. All the time I took the blame and looked ridiculous, and half of it, I didn’t even deserve.

   I wasn’t always innocent, like when Asher caught me skinny dipping in Principal Symonds’s pool when she was out of town. That I totally did.

   Not like the Whitlock family is without their screwups, but heaven forbid anyone holds a single one of those against them.

   My big screwup hasn’t even hit the gossip mill yet, and this is just me paying for being an immature teenager.

   “I could, but I won’t.”

   My eyes narrow, and I really freaking hate this guy. So, just to be petty, I drop my voice to a deep baritone. “Thank you, Phoebe. You’re really saving my ass by watching my daughter.” Then I go back to my voice. “You’re welcome, Asher. I am so happy to help you when you’re in this bind.”

   Not that I had a choice. My father informed me it was this, go back to Iowa, or tell him why I came home. Off to be a nanny it is.

   When we head inside, the house is still quiet, but it’s six thirty in the morning, so I’m not surprised. I know I would rather be asleep.

   “Where are your bags?”

   “What?”

   “Bags, you know, clothes, toiletries . . . the essentials.”

   I must look ridiculous as I stare at Asher in confusion. “Why would I need a bag? I live down the road.”

   “Right, but sometimes my shifts go until two in the morning, and I’m always on call. Plus, we rotate days and nights. You know this.”

   “Right, but we live in Sugarloaf,” I remind him. “Which means you never actually get called in because nothing happens. You do know I’m a cop’s daughter, right?”

   Asher clenches his jaw. “Did your dad not explain everything?”

   He did, but I wasn’t agreeing to those terms. There’s no way I am staying in Asher’s house. Not a chance. I live exactly eleven minutes away.

   “There’s no need for me to move in here, especially since this probably won’t last a week. You’ll get your replacement. I’ll go back to my big plans.” Of sitting in bed and regretting my life choices. “All that before I could even unpack.”

   “Yes, because nannies who also know ASL are so plentiful in the area. If that were the case, I would have one.”

   “Maybe it’s because you’re cheap and won’t pay them what they’re worth.” Seriously, when Daddy told me what the pay was, impressed was not the word I would use.

   “I’m not cheap. According to the agency, the pay was extremely fair and people would be lined up.”

   “And, yet, here I am.”

   “Not a nanny. Let’s not forget I was there when the last kid you babysat almost died.”

   I knew it was coming. “Does Olivia have any allergies I should know about?” I ask, sugary sweet.

   “No, which is why you’re allowed here.”

   I let out a long sigh. “Look, you think I’m irresponsible, and I think you’re a big jerk, but this is the only option you have. I am not sixteen anymore. I’m twenty-four, a college graduate, and am working toward my doctorate in audiology. Okay? I am smart, focused, driven, and I know ASL.”

   I am also the opposite of all those things at the moment, but my little speech wouldn’t have been as impactful otherwise.

   “Eighteen,” he says.

   “What?”

   “You were eighteen when Olivia cut her hair.”

   “Okay?” I’m not really seeing the point here, but no need to fight about semantics.

   “I’m pointing out that you were older than sixteen when you screwed up.”

   “I’m really sorry that happened. I explained it a hundred times, but you weren’t hearing me. I promise that won’t happen again.”

   He laughs once. “Yes, because she’s not three.”

   “And I’m not eighteen. So, look at that, we both grew up some.” This is really getting on my nerves. “I’m doing you a favor, Asher. No need to be a dick about it.”

   He sighs loudly, running his hands through his dark hair. “I’m not trying to be a dick. It’s just that Olivia is my world, and I was already hesitant about this agency thing, but Sara was adamant I go through them, so I did. Then the only nanny they have who knows ASL quit, so they suggested I have Livvy write everything down instead of sign. I just . . . I tried to take leave, but your dad needs me since I’m the SWAT leader for the county. You’re right, neither of you are little anymore, it’s been six years, and you have managed to make it through college without any major fuckups.”

   I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m not about to offer up my errors. “Thanks.”

   He smiles softly, and those damn eyes are all molten lava as they stare at me. For a second, I forget this is Asher Whitlock—my father’s employee and a big jerk who hates me—and only see every woman’s dream. He’s a hot, older, freaking SWAT leader, who has his life together, and did I mention hot? Too bad he’s also a huge grump—except with Olivia.

   I shake my head, coming back to reality and my decision to never like another man for eternity. They’re the worst. “I appreciate you saying it. Is Livvy awake? I haven’t seen her in a while, so I would like her to be comfortable with me before you go.”

   “Let me grab her. My sister will probably stop by after work. Brynlee has some new clothes and other things for her that Sara will never approve of.”

   “Is your sister still working for Sydney?”

   “Yeah, she loves it.”

   Sydney is one of my favorite people in Sugarloaf. I worked for her when I came home after my freshman year of undergrad because I was sure I wanted to be a lawyer. It all changed my sophomore year when I met Jenny. She was my roommate and had lost her hearing when she was nine. I learned ASL so we could talk easier, and then I found myself drawn to her story about how she lost her hearing and the things she wished were different.

   The language itself isn’t the same as speaking. You don’t say every word with your hands and the words are signed in a different order than you’d speak them, but it makes it easier to say what you need to faster. However, I’ve learned how to mentally translate ASL into a full spoken sentence.

   After really diving into the language and the Deaf culture, it became really important to me that others have access to opportunities and high levels of care regarding their communication. So, here I am, doing exactly that.

   And I’m so glad I didn’t go the legal route.

   “It’ll be great to see her again.”

   Brynlee is two years older than I am. We were never friends, per se, but we liked each other well enough.

   “Good. All right, let me get Olivia up. There’s a binder on the table, read it, memorize it, you’ll never have to ask me anything because Sara literally listed everything about Olivia in there. Her appointments, schedule, information about school, favorite colors, it’s all there.”

   That’s right, she has two and a half weeks left in school. Crap. “And what do I do when she’s at school?” I ask.

   “Fuck if I know . . . I’m sure it’s in the binder,” Asher yells as he’s walking away.

   Binder. Got it.

   I flip open the top, and my jaw drops. He wasn’t kidding. There are probably eighty pages, front and back. What in the world have I agreed to?

   I read through the first page, which lists emergency information, doctors, therapist, and I stop when I see who her audiologist is. If she has any appointments, I am for sure going. I don’t care what deal I have to make with Asher. Doctor King is literally the king of audiology. He is doing cutting-edge research, and I tried so hard to get an internship with him at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia—because they’re seriously the best—but he had no openings.

   Maybe I can beg at an appointment though . . .

   Nope. Not going there. I go back to reading the information I need. I check for allergies, of which there are none listed.

   That’s a relief.

   But, Jesus, this girl’s schedule is more complex than a Rubik’s cube. She has appointments practically every day after school, after school is out for the summer, her appointments are even worse. Although, Sara has allotted an hour of “fun” between sessions—I won’t even go there.

   I keep flipping, seriously, her mother has some major issues to write out how to make Kraft Mac and Cheese to Olivia’s liking, but . . . to each their own. Immediately after that, though, I think about my own mother. How if she had a binder like this when she died, so many things would have been easier.

   Someone clears their throat, and I turn, forcing myself to smile. There stands an adorable little girl with light brown hair. She signs. “Hi.”

   I lift my hand, wave, and sign back while also speaking. “Hi, I’m Phoebe. I’m going to be your nanny, which sounds ridiculous so let’s just say your older friend. Although that’s not much better. Do you read lips?”

   She nods. Good, sometimes that really helps when there are others in the room as well. Not everyone signs and often the conversations move quickly.

   The dread that was in her pretty blue eyes fades. “I’m happy you’re normal.”

   I laugh. “I wouldn’t say that.”

   Asher taps her shoulder and signs to her. “No, she’s not normal. She’s more like Uncle Rowan than Aunt Brynlee.”

   I step forward, Olivia’s eyes going to mine. “Don’t listen to him. He has a stick up his butt.”

   Asher glares at me. “Really?”

   I shrug. “That’s for the allergy comments.”

   Olivia makes a noise. “Sign please.”

   It’s so easy to forget how much deaf and hard of hearing people struggle. Everyday conversations that they would normally listen to don’t exist. If the people around them don’t sign or face them so they can read lips, it means they’re excluded completely from the conversation.

   I tap Olivia’s shoulder. “I was saying that your father deserved the comment since he made fun of me.”

   She nods and tilts her head at him with pursed lips.

   I like this kid already.

   “I wanted to ask, do you have a name sign?”

   Instead of having to spell out Olivia each time I need to use her name, she would have a name sign, which is something unique about her.

   “I do.” Her open hand brushes down her chin and then closes.

   “I love that you’re sweet.”

   “Do you have one?” she asks, and I nod.

   “My deaf student gave me it.” I make the sign where I trace the sun and the sky before opening my hand like the rays are hitting my face.

   Olivia smiles. “Sunshine?”

   I nod. “Apparently, I am bright and fun. Does your dad have one?”

   Olivia makes the sign which is a mix between hero and strong. Her hand almost looks like a claw as she touches her shoulder, pulls her hand back into a fist. “Asher.”

   “Did you give it to him?”

   She nods. “He’s very lucky because I think he should’ve had something like grumpy.”

   She laughs, and Asher sighs heavily. “Go get dressed and ready for school. I’ll deal with this bright light.”

   I wave to her as she walks off, leaving Mr. Grumpy Cop alone with me. “Your ASL is really good,” he notes.

   “I’m going to school to be an audiologist, I would hope it would be.”

   “That was a compliment.”

   “Then thank you,” I say with a grin and follow him into the kitchen. “You weren’t kidding about the binder.”

   “Sara is thorough, and Olivia means the world to us, so we work hard to make sure the transitions between our homes is easy for her, which means sharing information.”

   Smart. “Do you have a binder she gets?”

   He laughs. “Hell no. I’m not doing that crap. I tell her what I remember, and she writes it down.”

   I scoff. “Typical man.”

   “Anyway, I have to leave in a few minutes. There is a detailed page about school days and the order she’s supposed to do things, ignore it. Just make sure she has what she needs. Mrs. Arrowood will be outside the school to get her from you. I already sent her an email to let her know you are authorized to drop Olivia off and pick her up.”

   “That was very forward thinking of you.”

   He winks. “It’s on page twenty-two of the binder.”

   I laugh. “And your shift today is until?”

   “It’s a twelve today and tomorrow, but I am on call for the county twenty-four seven for the next month.”

   Yeah, this on-call thing is going to be an issue. I am all for helping, but I really don’t want to live here. “Here’s the deal, I’ll stay here when you have a shift the next day or overnights, but on your days off, there’s no reason for me to stay the night. If you get a call and need me, I’ll come back over.”

   Asher shakes his head. “No.”

   “No?”

   “No. If I’m on call, I have minutes. I don’t have time to wait for you to get here.”

   I cross my arms over my chest. “I live literally eleven minutes down the road. I could run here in fifteen. That’s the maximum amount of time it would take me to reach you. If you’re in bed, you’ll need to get up, get dressed, take a piss, probably shoo out whatever girl is in your bed . . . it’ll be fine.”

   “Anyone ever tell you that you’re still annoying?”

   “Nope. Just you.”

   I’m not backing down on this. The last thing I need is to be living in his house. No matter how nice he is to look at, I can’t stand the guy.

   “I’m not going to argue this now. You can take the bedroom down the hall, and it has its own bathroom. I’ll be home around eight, but I work tomorrow, so you’ll need to pack a bag according to your demands. Please try not to make me regret this.”

   I sigh. “Go to work. We’ll be just fine.”

Chapter 3

three

   PHOEBE

   Where the hell did Mrs. Arrowood say to pick up Olivia? I swear she said the side exit, but she should’ve been out of school ten minutes ago.

   Shit.

   I park my car and walk to the front, but there’s no one here. The buses are gone, there are just a few parents left in the pickup line, and no Olivia.

   I cannot lose this kid on day one.

   Dropoff went great. I followed the directions and got her to school on time. Then I went back home and packed two large duffle bags, one with my personal things I’ll need to bring home each time, and one with stuff I can leave at Asher’s.

   Laid in my bed, listened to the last voice mail Jonathan sent three days ago, and then cried until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I realized I’d slept way longer than I meant to and had to run like the devil was on my ass to get to the school. Small towns are great, until you’re in a hurry. Then there’s some asshole going the speed limit on a two-lane road with no passing allowed.

   This was worse because the asshole in question happened to be Mr. Montvale driving a tractor, which wasn’t even capable of going the speed limit. I couldn’t get around Mr. Montvale no matter what hand gestures I made.

   So, I was late to pick Olivia up.

   My phone rings, and I accept the call without looking, hoping it’s the school. “Hello?”

   A man clears his throat. Shit, it’s Asher, and now I’m in trouble. “Phoebe, love . . .”

   No, it’s not Asher. My chest goes tight and my breath catches in my throat. I can’t speak, I want to rail and scream and cry as it hurts just that badly. I can’t talk to him. “No,” I say the word, clinging to my anger. Jonathan lost the right to talk to me.

   “Just listen, I won’t take long. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry you were the one who—”

   I hang up. I don’t want to hear his voice or his apologies. I needed those a week ago. I needed those when my life was torn apart, and he hung me out to dry, painting me as the one who came onto him, ruined his marriage, and then tried to destroy his career.

   None of those were true.

   I thought I loved him. I thought he was smart, funny, sweet, and we could have something real. Instead, he caused me pain and embarrassment unlike I’ve ever known.

   I still hear his words when I begged him to tell everyone the truth.

   “I can lose my job, Phoebe. I can lose everything. You’re young and can survive this. I can’t. Do you want me to be fired?”

   Angry tears fall, and I wipe them away. I didn’t want that any more than I wanted to be the laughingstock of the school, but I will not cry any more. Damn him for making me break another promise to myself.

   I hope his dick falls off.

   I really hate that when I cry, I look like Rudolph. Whatever, I can’t think about this, I need to find Olivia. I climb back into my car and drive to the back entrance, finding them waiting just outside the double doors.

   Thank God.

   “Hey! Sorry, I was at the wrong exit,” I call to her as I rush to them.

   Mrs. Arrowood’s relief is palpable as she gets Olivia’s attention and points toward me. Then I sign the same thing I just said aloud.

   “I get dismissed from the hallway,” Olivia informs me.

   Her eyes are glossy, and I feel awful. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

   “It’s okay.”

   I smile at her. “I’ll make it up to you.”

   She looks up at Mrs. A and then back to me. “Can we go?”

   “Yes.”

   Mrs. Arrowood smiles and then gives me a pointed stare. “You’re lucky Asher didn’t answer, or he’d have lost it.”

   “I know. I know. I’m sorry,” I repeat. This is not off to a good start.

   “Don’t worry, I’ll make something up to cover for you.”

   This is why she’s everyone’s favorite person in this town. I had Mrs. Arrowood for sixth grade, although she wasn’t Arrowood at that time, and she’s the best. Seriously the best.

   When we get to my car, I pull up the schedule, which I took photos of. She has an appointment with the speech pathologist two towns over in seven minutes. Yeah, that’s not going to happen, but we’ll do our best.

   If he finds out about this, I am in so much freaking trouble. He warned me, and of course, I screwed up. It’s all I ever do.

   I turn to face Olivia in the backseat. “We’re going to be late, but I’m calling the therapist to let them know. Do you want a snack?”

   She nods. I grab the bag of Cheez-its out of my bag and hand them to her.

   Then I make the call and find out the therapist is running behind as well, so there’s no harm done, and we head that way.

   Not even eight minutes into my drive, my phone rings, and this time I check the name before answering. It’s just as bad as before. “Hello, Asher.”

   “I got a call from the school a few minutes ago.”

   “Oh?” I play stupid.

   “Any idea why?”

   I turn left onto Main Street from Front Street, hoping to shave a few minutes off by taking the dirt road that cuts out the traffic lights. “Nope. Did you talk to anyone to find out why they called?”

   He sighs. “Ellie answered and said she’d call me back but that nothing was wrong.”

   “Sorry, I really have no idea what she could be calling for then.”

   “Where are you?” he asks, his voice a bit steely.

   According to the binder, I should’ve been at her appointment three minutes ago. I’ve learned that lying to cops isn’t always the best idea, but I’m not going to let Asher Whitlock know I fucked up on day one.

   “Pulling into the building for Olivia’s appointment.”

   “Really?”

   “Yes, really.”

   I mean, not really, but again, lying for the greater good isn’t really bad, right?

   “So, then why did I just see you pass me on Front Street?”

   I’m committed now. “That wasn’t my car.”

   “No?”

   “No, it couldn’t be since I’m not on Front Street.” I’m on Main Street about to turn onto the cut through.

   He sighs. “Look in your rearview.”

   I do it, knowing exactly what I’m going to see. And sure enough, there’s a police car behind me.

   “Okay, I know what you’re thinking. And, yes, maybe we had a slight issue, but I didn’t hear which entrance to pick her up at. It’s fine. I was at the school, just in the wrong place. She’s safe and eating her snack. I called the therapist to explain we were running a bit late, but they are running behind as well, so all is well.”

   “Pull over,” he says and then disconnects.

   As much as I really didn’t want this job, I do now. Not because I’m suddenly a great babysitter or anything, but because Olivia needs someone who can communicate with her. We live in a small town, and she struggles enough without having people sign to her. Okay, maybe it has a little to do with the fact that her doctors are some of the best in the country, and I could maybe learn a little from them.

   Plus, what am I going to do all summer? Brood in my room? I need money, and while I’m not getting paid a lot, it’s better than nothing.

   Most of all, I want to prove to myself that I’m not a complete failure.

   After I pull to the side of the road and park, I turn to Olivia. “Your dad is here, so I’m just going to talk to him outside of the car.”

   She gives me a thumbs-up and turns to see her dad approaching.

   Here goes getting fired on my first day.

   I exit the car, and Asher doesn’t even give me two seconds before he starts. “Trust doesn’t start with you lying to me. Especially about her safety! Damn it, Phoebe, both you and your father told me you could handle this.”

   “And I can. I know, I was wrong to lie,” I admit. “I should’ve explained everything right away, but you already think I’m flakey, which I was six years ago, but I’m not now. I got things mixed up, and I’m sorry. More than that, I’m sorry I betrayed your trust. You have every right to fire me, Asher, and I wouldn’t blame you, but I really like Olivia and can do a lot with her. I went to school for this, and if you give me another chance, I promise I’ll do better and there won’t be any more issues. If there are, I’ll fire myself.”

   Laying it all out on the table is probably the best option anyway. I was wrong, I admit it. This is his kid, and he loves her. I’m sure this isn’t easy for him.

   Ugh, now I’m empathizing with the man.

   He seems a little stunned. “Well . . . that was . . . very mature.”

   “I’m not the girl you remember.”

   He runs his hand through his thick hair, sighing at the same time. “This doesn’t exactly prove that, Phoebe.”

   “I should’ve told you the truth, and for that, I am eternally sorry. Let me take her to her appointment, and I promise I’ll follow all the rules in the binder to a T.”

   His eyes find Olivia’s in the car. She waves, and he does the same. Then his radio goes off, informing him of a situation. There are very few options available, so I’m really hoping I get that second chance. “Fine. If you fuck up again, you’re done.”

   “You should really give inspirational speeches. I mean, you missed your calling.”

   “Don’t push your luck. I’m giving you another chance.”

   “Thank you. Now, I have to be at an appointment, Officer Whitlock, and since you’re so kind as to let me off with a warning, I must go.”

   Before he changes his mind, I rush to my car.

   * * *

   It’s almost eight, and I’ve done the dishes, gotten Olivia’s bag together for tomorrow, and talked to Sara. That was super fun. Thankfully, I don’t think she put together that I was the same babysitter who let her daughter attempt to scalp herself.

   “Phoebe?” Asher calls from the front door.

   “In the kitchen!”

   I hear his keys hitting a bowl or something and then heavy footsteps making their way toward me. They stop, and I turn to see him.

   “Hey,” I say with a smile.

   “Any more issues?” he asks as though he is expecting a list of them.

   “Not a one.” My smile is broad because I made it without any incident. “We did homework, which—super lame. You need to have a talk with the school because half of it was redundant, and Olivia is incredibly smart and needs to be challenged. After that, she took a shower. Before you ask, yes, I checked in on her at the six-minute mark just like the binder says.” He rolls his eyes, and I continue on. “Dinner was great, she ate well, and then I painted her nails because she told me mine were pretty.”

   “Was that in the binder?” he asks.

   “Nope, but I got approval from Sara after she had her fifteen-minute video call with Olivia and then let me know all the rules—and I mean all.”

   Seriously that woman is wound so tight. I thought my mother was a taskmaster, but Sara is next level.

   Asher laughs. “Good, you can deal with Sara from now on. Any time she calls, tell her I’m at work.”

   “I’m sure she has a tracking device on you.”

   “I wouldn’t doubt it. She isn’t normally this intense. We do the co-parenting thing really well. I think it helps we never really dated and there were no feelings.”

   “I thought you guys dated,” I say, not really sure why.

   “Not really. We had an arrangement, we ended it when it wasn’t working, and then we found out she was pregnant. Now she’s dating that Finnegan guy on the Ford dealership commercial.”

   I skip past the hooking up part and go to the interesting tidbit at the end. “Oh! I saw that one today! He is cute. Go, Sara.”

   Asher starts to unbutton his uniform top and lets out a chuckle. “I’m a much better catch, but I guess Finnegan from Ford isn’t a bad second choice. But”—he claps his hands together—“enough about that. I’m going to shower and then eat before I have to get up in six hours.”

   He saunters off, going upstairs toward Olivia’s room first. She’s fast asleep, which seems super early to me, but Sara explained her therapy days are really hard on her and it’s best to get her to bed by seven.

   I lean against the doorframe, thinking about what a great kid she is. Then my mind reels a bit about Asher and Sara. I didn’t know much about their arrangement, but I thought they were together. Come to think of it, I don’t know that Asher has ever been linked to anyone in Sugarloaf. Weird that.

   He comes back down the stairs with a soft grin.

   “Everything okay?” I ask.

   “She’s alive and resting peacefully. Her device wasn’t on, but I forgot to mention that.”

   “Was that the box beside her bed?”

   “Yes, if she needs anything, she pushes the button, and there’s a box in my room that alerts me. There’s a second one that I put in your room as well.”

   “All right. Thank you.”

   He opens his shirt the rest of the way, and I really wish I hadn’t looked because—sweet Lord, his body is freaking perfect.

   “See you in the morning,” he says as he walks toward the back hallway.

   Needing to collect my wits, I go back to cleaning the kitchen, grab my large duffle bag, and make my way to where I think is my room.

   The house is not big, and the floor plan is kind of in the shape of a u. You enter in the middle of the home where there is the living room, the dining area is off to the right, and the kitchen is behind it. The right hallway has a bathroom and two other doors, the left is where Asher went. It’s definitely an addition of some kind, but I haven’t exactly asked, and now I’m not sure.

   I head to the right first, but the first door leads to a laundry area and the second opens to a room full of boxes, so that’s not it.

   No way is it upstairs since that entire floor is Olivia’s.

   So, I go to the left hallway.

   There are three doors, and only one is closed. The first is a bathroom, and the other open one is definitely where he expects me to stay. There is a queen-size bed between two windows that look out to the backyard, rolling hills, and the mountain on the horizon. It’s pretty much the same view most of Sugarloaf has.

   I close the door and quickly change into my shorts and camisole crop top before I start to unpack. With my earbuds in, I crank up the angry 90s girl music—because, really, there’s nothing like Amy Winehouse blaring about going back to black when you’re hating all of the male gender—and put my clothes in the drawers.

Chapter 4

four

   ASHER

   I toss on my basketball shorts and run the towel through my damp hair. Today was a weird day. It started going down one path where I thought I might actually have to fire Phoebe and then shifted to my realizing that she’s not the same girl she was six years ago. She took responsibility for her mistake and owned her error. That never would’ve happened before.

   There was something about the way she looked at me standing in my kitchen with her big, pouty brown eyes with thick lashes framing them, that made me forget she was the nanny and my boss’s daughter and not one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. For just one second.

   I open my door, heading to the kitchen for something to eat, but I stop and look around, trying to figure out what is making that noise.

   Seriously, what the hell is that sound? A cat dying? No, cats don’t say words or try to sing them.

   I walk into the hallway, and it’s much louder, which means I won’t find an animal being tormented. I’m going to find the woman who is attempting to torture my eardrums. Right now, I envy Liv being deaf because . . . this is horrible.

   I start to walk away, needing to find earplugs, when I hear, “No more! Help!”

   Moving quickly, I push open her door, expecting to find her hurt or someone in the house. Instead, Phoebe is in shorts and half a shirt that’s tight to her body, singing and dancing around the room without a care in the world.

   Jesus Christ. My earlier thoughts about her are smack dab in my face. She is beautiful. No, she’s more than that—she looks free and happy. Something about how she stands with her mouth open, letting out the worst sounds ever while completely unconcerned about how off-key she is, has my heart racing. Her eyes are closed, her head is back, and she’s just letting it out. Earlier, her hair was in a bun, and she was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. Now that I know this is what is hiding under her clothes . . . I’m so fucked.

   She’s your boss’s daughter. She’s your-much-too-young-for-you boss’s daughter. Again, she’s younger than your sister. She’s also your daughter’s nanny. And she’s a pain in the ass. Sunshine, my ass.

   No, I do not see how perfect her ass looks in those shorts. And those curves, when the hell did she get those? It doesn’t matter that she looks adorable dancing around and singing into her fake microphone.

   All that matters is that she’s my daughter’s nanny, and the only person in the freaking county who knows ASL and will watch her. Also, she’s my boss’s damn daughter.

   I tell myself this, but my dick doesn’t seem to care.

   Time to leave. I go to close her door to get away from the trainwreck that is Phoebe Bettencourt, but she gasps.

   “Asher! What are you doing?” she wails and grabs her shirt.

   I go to speak, but at the same time, her earbud pops out, she somehow manages to swat it into the air, and she attempts to catch it. As she does, her top rises, revealing her breasts. I am not sure what to do, so I start to go toward her, but she’s too busy scrambling for the earbud while also trying to cover herself and ends up tripping on the area rug and falling on her ass.

   “Please tell me you didn’t see anything.”

   I lie. “I didn’t see anything.”

   She’s on the floor, trying to pull her top into the right angle as her hips move side to side. “Ugh! You saw it all!” She groans as she finally gets herself covered. “Seriously, can I just stay here until I don’t want to fall through the floor anymore? It might be forever.”

   I try not to laugh—I really do—but . . . it was probably the most hilarious thing I’ve seen in a while.

   “Let me help you . . .” I step toward her, but she raises her hand.

   “Don’t!” she warns as she glares at me from the floor.

   “Are you okay? It looked like that hurt.” I approach her, palm outstretched.

   She swats at it. “Don’t try to help me now. You saw my boobs, you big jerk!”

   “How am I a jerk?”

   “You laughed.”

   “You would’ve too from my vantage point.”

   She huffs, pushing herself up. “Why don’t you recreate it, and we’ll see if I laugh.”

   I grin. “I’m good. I wouldn’t want to hurt myself. What the hell made you fall?” And maybe we can have it happen again so I can see more clearly this time.

   Nope. No, do not even think it.

   I am not attracted to Phoebe. Not even a little.

   “You scared the shit out of me.”

   “Clearly, unless that was your attempt at dancing and flashing your boss.”

   Her lips move while she rolls her eyes, mimicking what I just said. Why do I find that adorable? Oh, I don’t. Nope. Nothing about this is cute. Not the fact that her long brown hair flows down her back in waves or how her arms are crossed, pushing her breasts into the perfect position.

   “What the hell did you just barge in here for?”

   “You yelled for help.”

   “No, I didn’t.”

   “Yes,” I argue back. “You said, ‘No more! Help!’”

   She sputters. “I . . . I was singing!”

   “I didn’t know that! I thought someone was hurting you.” I chuckle beneath my breath. “I thought maybe you were trying to deter them from attacking you with your singing.”

   Her jaw falls open. “You are such an ass!”

   She’s not wrong, but I have to distract myself from thinking about how gorgeous she looks.

   “You know, for an employee, you are extremely rude. Hasn’t anyone told you that you’re supposed to be nice to the person who writes your check?” I push her buttons because it’s better than pushing her against the bed, kissing her, and palming her breasts that I’m pretty sure will fit in my hands like they were made for me.

   Doing a bang-up job at forgetting, Asher.

   “Oh, and has anyone told you that as an employer, you suck? Because you’re not exactly overflowing with kindness and understanding.”

   “I didn’t fire you today when I caught you lying, that was nice.”

   “You don’t exactly have a replacement either,” she reminds me as she steps closer. “I don’t know that your kindness would’ve extended to me if you weren’t desperate.”

   No, I don’t, but that last part isn’t true either. There was something in her eyes when she was apologizing that I couldn’t shake. She was so sincere, so hopeful that she’d have another chance that I knew I wouldn’t have fired her.

   Phoebe may not be the world’s best childcare, but all I’ve heard for the last five years is how smart she is and how hard she works at school. She went to undergrad at Penn and then the University of Iowa for graduate school. Her father is beyond proud of her, as he should be. It would be unfair of me to think she hasn’t grown up.

   However, that doesn’t answer the question of why would she leave her school before the semester ended and before finishing her graduate program?

   It’s none of my business.

   “Brynlee would’ve quit her job if I really needed her to.”

   She shrugs. “Well, I survive another day. Uh, I meant to ask, but you were in the shower. This is my room, right?”

   “It actually isn’t.”

   “No?”

   She’s too close. I catch a hint of the scent of lemons and sugar, tart yet sweet. The air around us charges as though an electric current has been unleashed.

   I shake my head, hoping to dispel the desire I feel rising. “This is for my other overnight guests. You have the guest house out back.”

   Her eyes widen and then, as though the words just finally doused the same fire I’m fighting, she steps back and a look of disgust crosses her face. “Is that in the binder?”

   I breathe and then grin. “Nope.”

   She turns to look at the bed and shivers. “Considering the available number of single women around here, I’ll move out now. I’m not sure I want to risk cross contamination.”

   Phoebe starts to grab her stuff, and I laugh. “I’m kidding. Yes, this is where the nanny was going to stay.”

   “And the bed?”

   Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “It’s clean, and it’s been clean for . . . a while.” Far too long if I’m lusting after my boss’s daughter.

   She throws the clothes onto the bed and grumbles. “You’re infuriating.”

   “Again, I’m your boss.”

   Keep reminding yourself of that, Asher.

   “Right now, I’m off the clock.”

   “Fine, then I’m not your boss right now, but I will be in a few hours.”

   She sits on the edge of the mattress and crosses her long legs. “Okay, so you’re just Asher now?”

   I nod.

   Phoebe’s eyes light up, and she clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Oh, good. Dude, I have to tell you about what happened today. So, I’m working for this grumpy old guy, and of course the most embarrassing thing happened to me right in front of him, and he laughed. Isn’t he such an ass?”

   Speaking of ass . . . nope. Stop it.

   I need to get out of here.

   Walking out, I toss my words back to her. “I’ll be gone before you wake up tomorrow. Remember to pick up my daughter this time, okay?”

   Phoebe practically growls. “I didn’t forget her. I was at the wrong door—you know what, you’re right. I’ll do better next time, boss.”

   I smirk. “See that you do.”

   I kick my door shut, flop onto my bed, and make a plan to find a new nanny so I can limit my time around Phoebe Bettencourt and not imagine her completely naked.

   * * *

   “He’s not that hot,” I hear Phoebe whispering from inside the kitchen.

   I’d hoped to avoid her before I went in for my shift. I’d gotten up early, went for my run, showered, and came to grab my coffee and go. That was the plan, but apparently, the Lord is testing me.

   “No, seriously, he’s not. I mean, I grew up looking at guys in uniform, so I don’t have that same affliction you seem to.” She laughs. “Out of uniform? Oh, I’m sure he’s . . . nope. Not going there.”

   I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but I also can’t seem to force myself to move. I’m what?

   “We’re not talking about how my hot boss saw my boobs, Emmeline.” A pause. “I’m done with older men—well, that’s a lie, I’m done with all men. My plan today is to take Olivia to school and then work on my transfer applications. I decided on three schools to apply to, and hopefully, I don’t lose all my credits.”

   Transfer? She’s in her first year of grad school, why the hell is she planning on transferring?

   Better question is, why do I give a shit?

   I don’t. All I care about is her ability to take care of Olivia until the nanny service sends a new nanny.

   Just as I’m about to go back to the stairs, bang around so I don’t seem like a creeper, my cell phone rings, announcing my location. I close my eyes for a second and then look at the phone.

   My play is to act like I was walking into the kitchen and didn’t hear a thing.

   “Hello, Sara,” I say as I push the door open.

   “Hello, Asher. How is our daughter?”

   “She’s good. Where are you now?” I smile at Phoebe, who ends her call, slips her phone into her pocket, and gives a hesitant wave.

   I bet I look hot now.

   I’m not a vain guy, but it’s not all that bad hearing you’re still hot when you’re inching toward forty.

   Sara sighs heavily. “We’re here. I miss her. I want to come home already. I don’t like that the agency hasn’t sent you anyone.”

   “We have it covered. Everything is good, and Olivia really is fine.”

   “If you say so . . .”

   “I wouldn’t lie about this, Sara. You have a huge opportunity, and I have it covered here. Phoebe is great with Liv.”

   And if she lets me down, then I will beg my sister to help out, but I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. She has today to prove me wrong.

   “Okay. I will try my best to relax. I would just feel better if I had met her.”

   No, she definitely wouldn’t, and since she hasn’t pieced together exactly who Phoebe is, I’m not telling her. “You weren’t going to meet the nanny the agency sent.”

   “But they’re vetted.”

   “So is she. I have to head to work. Call Phoebe later to talk to Olivia, and be safe there.”

   “I am.”

   We hang up, and Phoebe gives me a soft smile. “It must be hard for her.”

   I nod. “It is. I think the longest either of us have ever gone without seeing Liv was two weeks, and that was when I went to a training program. The longest I’ve had her in one stretch was a week because Sara was on location. Usually, she turns down big projects, but this was one she couldn’t.”

   “I can imagine it’s not easy. Listen, I really appreciate your giving me another shot. Today will be different, there will be no mess ups. I promise.” She turns and grabs two brown paper bags. “Here.”

   “What’s this?”

   “I made lunches. One for you and one for my dad. If you could give it to him . . .”

   “That won’t be awkward,” I say with a chuckle.

   “He’ll know it’s from me. None of you guys eat well when you’re on shift. Whenever I’m home, I try to do what I can to mitigate the damage from his crap diet. There are some snacks and heart healthy sandwiches.”

   I don’t have sandwich supplies in the house. I meant to grab them, but it’s been a bit hectic since I’m the SWAT commander. It’s more than just being on standby. There’s paperwork, planning, and scheduling for the team that I have to do on top of my officer duties.

   “When did you . . .?”

   “I went this morning and grabbed some stuff for the house. I love twenty-four-hour grocery stores.”

   “What the hell time did you wake up?”

   She shrugs. “I’m still on grad-school-kid time, which means I run on caffeine and severe sleep deprivation. I passed out last night earlier than I have in months, so when I woke up, I figured I might as well be productive.”

   I nod. “And why aren’t you still at college?”

   Phoebe’s eyes widen just a touch, but I was watching for it. “Why stay when you can do your finals online?”

   “So, all your friends left school early as well?”

   “No, but . . . why do you care?”

   “I don’t,” I reply.

   “Then why are you asking?”

   Talk about evasion. “You can just say you’d rather not tell me what happened.”

   Phoebe lets out a long breath. “Fine. I’d rather not talk about it.”

   I shake my head. “Nope. Now I want to know.”

   “Well, I have no intention of telling you anything. Besides, if I hadn’t left, you wouldn’t have childcare. So, think about that, Mr. Grumpy Cop.”

   While that may be true, my gut is saying something is off. “First, I’m not grumpy. Second, I didn’t say I was ungrateful. I just wondered why you’d leave.”

   “It’s none of your business.”

   She’s right. It’s not, but I’m intrigued, which is never a good thing. “Well, something clearly brought you home.”

   “Yes, something did.” She glances at the clock. “Oh, look at the time! You’re going to be late to work. I hear your boss is a real stickler about time.”

   If she were my sister, I would push relentlessly until I got a satisfactory answer. Brynn is notorious for running when things get rough and pretending nothing is wrong. Then the issue usually comes and smacks her in the face so Rowan and I have to pick up the pieces.

   But Phoebe is not my sister.

   She’s my daughter’s nanny.

   “I’ll be home late, and then I’m off tomorrow. If you could stay the night just in case . . .”

   She sighs. “I would rather not.”

   “Okay, let me rephrase. I’ll need you to stay the night with Olivia because I have a huge caseload I need to catch up on. Thank you.”

   “Anything you need, boss.”

   Phoebe leaves the kitchen, and I grin, imagining bossing her around in other ways.

Chapter 5

five

   PHOEBE

   “Hey, Phoebs!” Brynlee says when she spots me sitting in Sugarlips Diner.

   “Brynn, hey!”

   “Mind if I sit?” she asks while already pulling the chair out.

   I smile. “Of course not.”

   I’ve been here the last two hours, filling out applications and pulling copies of my transcripts from Penn as well as my grades and test scores from Iowa. I haven’t gotten all that far because every five minutes someone comes over to tell me how good it is to see me.

   “What are you up to?”

   “Just waiting for Liv to be done with school and working on some college stuff.”

   “Oh? College stuff?”

   “I’m transferring this year, so I have to fill out a ton of application stuff by the end of tomorrow.”

   There are really only three options to consider for schools. One in Nashville, which was my first choice the last time I went through this. The second best would be in Illinois, which I got into last time, but is way too close to Jonathan. Then the last is in Texas, which I might take just because it’s the farthest from Iowa.

   “Oh. Good luck. How is it going with the runtlet?”

   “Good, she’s amazing.” I have really connected with her. This morning she got up, gave me a hug, and we got everything done per Sara’s instructions.

   I even sent a photo of Olivia walking into class to Asher so he knew she was delivered properly.

   His text back, which read, “It’s the collecting her that seems to be your issue,” shouldn’t have surprised me.

   Well, I can’t wait to prove him wrong.

   “I agree, she’s so special. I was going to stop by tomorrow and take her to lunch, I’m not sure if you guys have plans . . .”

   I shake my head. “I’m off tomorrow, so you’ll have to check with Asher.”

   “I’m actually going to see him in a few. I have a favor to ask him, and it’s always best to bring food.”

   “Good to know.”

   She laughs. “Seriously, if you feed him, he’s much more amiable. It’s a Whitlock trick I learned long ago. Asher is French fries, Grady is ice cream, and Rowan is meat. Give the man a steak, and he’ll do anything you ask.”

   “How is Grady doing? Still in the navy?”

   “Yeah, he’s still in and stationed in Florida for now.”

   “That’s awesome, and he’s a pilot, right?” I remember everyone talking about how he flew.

   “Yup, well, I guess for now. His commission is up soon, and he’s actually going to be moving back to Sugarloaf.”

   “Wow! Back to Sugarloaf. Not many come back after they leave. How does his wife feel about moving here?”

   Brynn looks down at her hands. “Umm, I assumed you heard because of your dad, but Lisa passed away about two and a half years ago.”

   “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I never would’ve asked.” I feel awful now.

   “Don’t be sorry. It isn’t something we talk much about around here. Grady hasn’t been in Sugarloaf for so long, and they never lived here. Anyway, she had an aneurysm and just . . . it was sudden.”

   My heart falters for a second. “Like my mom.”

   “Oh, I am so sorry to—”

   I rest my hand on her forearm. “It’s okay. It’s been a while. I was just saying that I understand.” My mother’s death was sudden, and it was incredibly hard. It’s been ten years now, but sometimes, it feels like yesterday.

   “Yeah. It was just really hard on him to lose her when their son was only a few weeks old.”

   I gasp. “Oh, God. He has a baby?”

   Brynn nods. “He’s adorable, and I hate that he’ll never know his mama. I went down to help right after, but then Lisa’s parents moved to Florida to watch Jett while Grady finished his commission. He’s just . . . not the same.”

   “I’m sure he’s drowning in grief. I know my father did. When it’s unexpected, it just feels like you’re cheated in some way. I didn’t get to say goodbye to my mother or tell her all the things I wanted to. I would’ve apologized for the stupid fights we had or all those times I argued with her about my hair. Dad was worse, he just shut down and threw himself into the job.”

   “Which is what Grady’s doing,” Brynn says with a sad smile. “But he’s coming back home. He is going to stay with me for a few months until he finds a place or builds on the land that’s his, and I’ll get to spend all the Auntie time with Jett. I’m hoping to throw them a welcome-home party.”

   “That’ll be fun.”

   Brynlee laughs. “He’ll kill me for it, but I really want him to have something to remind him that people love him and he has a family here who will support them.”

   Magnolia comes to the table with her shirt buttoned to the top, which is a change. Then again, she only disrobes when there are guys around. She’s been here since I was a kid and is super sweet, but she’s the biggest flirt I’ve ever met.

   “Hey there, girls.”

   “Hi, Mags, how is business?” Brynn asks.

   “You know, can’t complain, other than about freaking Cooperton. He is so rude and pushy.” Both Brynn and I tilt our heads to see Memphis sitting there, hat down low so you can’t see his eyes as he leans back. “He hates the food, hates me, and hates the town, but he still comes in every day.”

   I shake my head. “He’s always been that way.”

   He’s the town mystery. Rolled into Sugarloaf years ago, bought Ellie’s old farm, doesn’t talk to anyone, and is perpetually grumpy. I, for one, like him. He’s a man of few words, and in this world, that’s rare.

   “He just needs a hug or maybe a kitten,” Brynn says.

   “I dare you to hug him.” Magnolia gestures her arm that way.

   “Tomorrow.”

   We all chuckle, and Magnolia lifts her book. “All right. What can I get you?”

   Brynn places a very large to-go order, and we catch up about the goings on in Sugarloaf. She is single, which I’m surprised by because she’s smart, funny, and incredibly pretty. She has strawberry blonde hair and the most stunning green eyes that guys gush over. On top of that, she’s just . . . nice.

   “So, no dating?”

   She shrugs. “I think you understand this better than most, but it’s hard to date in this town. Put aside the fact that I am a Whitlock, my brother is a cop, my other brother is a maniac, and Grady has access to missiles, the guys here either started dating their wives when we were eleven or moved away to greener pastures.”

   Ain’t that the truth? “The intimidation thing I totally get.”

   “It’s so damn annoying!” Brynn complains. “I did meet a guy a few months ago, and it was going well until he met Rowan. Then, suddenly, he wasn’t interested anymore.”

   “Then that guy wasn’t worth your time!”

   Brynn sighs. “I guess so, but the casualties of dating have left me battered.”

   Don’t I know it. “Believe me, I feel you. My father ruined my prom, I ended up going alone after he threatened one of the boys who were going to ask. Jim spread the word that no one should ask the chief’s daughter, or they might get shot.”

   She laughs softly. “So frustrating. But I’ve talked a lot about me, what’s new with you? Did you finish this semester early?”

   Always about school. I should’ve just stayed in Iowa until the semester was over. It would’ve led to fewer questions.

   “No, I was able to come back early.”

   “Oh, well, that’s good. Did you decide what school you’re transferring to?”

   “Not yet. I am applying to a few schools, but it kind of comes down to money.”

   Brynn smiles. “I know that feeling. I’m going to school at night and working full time, but Syd is great and allows me time off for classes or anything education related.”

   “What are you going for?”

   “Philosophy.”

   That word makes my chest ache. Immediately, I feel the anxiety start to build as I think about that class. About him and his lies and the way I ate them up like Skittles, desperate for the next sugar high.

   Brynlee snaps her fingers in my face. “Hello? You okay in there?”

   I clear my throat and nod. “Yes, sorry. I just . . . spaced out. I woke up ridiculously early, and I guess it’s catching up with me.”

   “I get it. I stay up studying and then fall asleep with my face in the book.”

   “I know that all too well.” Magnolia brings a bag and places it on the table, and Brynn stands. “I should get these fries to Asher before they’re cold.”

   I grin. “So, you’re buttering him up?”

   “Absolutely.”

   “Good luck.”

   She winks. “I don’t need it, I have potatoes.”

   * * *

   “I understand that, sir, but I need to apply, and they’re going to request my transcripts.”

   I don’t know why this is so hard for my academic advisor at Iowa to understand.

   “I am not sure what you want me to say, Miss Bettencourt. I can’t send these until the semester is over and grades have been finalized.”

   “Right, but most of my grades are final now.”

   “Most is not all, and I cannot release incomplete transcripts. This school has standards and rules, and while you have chosen multiple times not to follow them, I can’t just bend to your whim. So, I suggest you wait until the end of the year and put in your official request then.”

   Every part of me wants to rail and fight back. Victor Waite is one of Jonathan’s friends, so I’m not really sure what I expected. Maybe some professionalism?

   “Thank you for your help, Mr. Waite. I’ll be in touch at the end of the semester.”

   What else can I do at this point? I’ll submit my unofficial transcripts as well as some letters from professors who aren’t complete assholes and another essay. Once the year is over, I’ll file the request and go from there.

   The bell rings, and kids start barreling out of the doors, reminding me of just how exciting it was once you were finally done with school. I look for Olivia, but I don’t see her right away. Once the larger group of kids have dispersed, she exits.

   I wave, and her smile is automatic.

   Mrs. Arrowood’s face brightens, and she urges Olivia toward me.

   “How was school?” I sign.

   “Over.”

   I laugh. “And now it’s the weekend.”

   “Will you come fishing tomorrow?” she asks.

   Fishing? “I don’t think so. I have to do some schoolwork.” She makes a face. “I agree.”

   “Can we get ice cream?”

   I’m pretty sure the binder had a strict no-sweets policy, which is utter crap if you ask me, but there must be a loophole. And that would be Asher.

   “Let me ask your dad.”

   I fire off a text.

   Can we pleaaaaaaaase get ice cream?

   Asher

   Why are you asking me?

   You’re the parent.

   Asher

   You’re the terrible nanny.

   So, are you giving me permission to disobey the binder?

   Asher

   I didn’t write it . . .

   I grin at Olivia. “Mr. Pips?”

   She nods vigorously, as any nine-year-old should. Mr. Pips is the best ice cream in the county, and it’s within walking distance of the school.

   The two of us walk, and she fills me in on her day. Apparently, it was very stressful. The teacher wanted her to explain something, but she was nervous to sign in front of the class.

   I wish I could go in there and give her support. At her age, no one wants to be called on in class, but couple it with having issues with hearing, it’s a lot. She most likely feels different already, and to have her stand up and try to answer questions probably doesn’t help.

   As a kid who struggled with a crippling fear of public speaking, I can empathize with her.

   “I’m sorry it was a rough day,” I tell her.

   Livvy’s smile is reserved. “Mommy says bad days pass.”

   “She’s right.”

   Lord knows I’ve had enough of those in the last week.

   When we get to Mr. Pips, it seems as if the whole town is here.

   “Phoebe!” Devney Arrowood calls with her hand high.

   “Hi, Devney, how are you?” I smile as I approach and Olivia follows. She’s sitting at the table with a blonde woman I’ve never met.

   “Good, I heard you were back. This is my friend Addison, and her peanut is Elodie. Hi, Livvy. You look very pretty. I love your nails.”

   I turn to Olivia and sign what she says.

   Olivia holds up her hands to give Devney a better look, and she coos over them.

   “It’s nice to meet you,” I say to Addison.

   “Nice to meet you as well. Your dad is such a great guy and has been so much help with my organization. He talks about you nonstop. He’s very proud.”

   He wouldn’t be if he knew why I was home.

   “Thank you. What has he been helping with?”

   Olivia tugs on my arm. “Can I color with Elodie?”

   I say the words, and Addison smiles with a small nod.

   “I’m sure Elodie would love you to play,” I say aloud as well as sign.

   Devney winks and tilts her head to Olivia, handing her a crayon to color with. “I really thought you met Addison when you were home the last time.”

   I shake my head. “Nope.”

   Addison purses her lips. “Hmm, I think I was back in Oregon when you were home last time. I spent the summer in Oregon.”

   “Oh!” I say, thankful she filled me in since I was kind of lost. I’ve heard her name, of course, but last summer I worked in Iowa as I was preparing for grad school, so I didn’t meet her. “Well, it’s great to finally meet you. I feel like I’ve missed so much. Do you like Sugarloaf so far?”

   “Yes, I love it here. The people are wonderful and your dad has offered a lot of his resources to our foundation.”

   “Really? That’s great, what exactly do you do, though?” I ask.

   Daddy mentioned something about having a runaway refuge close to here, but I hadn’t realized it was something the town needed. Still, it’s a great option for those in need.

   Now we need to get better resources for deaf and blind children. We need more therapy options for kids with learning disabilities and physical issues. There are so many families who have to choose between hiring an agency or driving to Philadelphia for care.

   Addison nods. “Right now, we provide safe harbor and rehabilitation options for runaways. We also help reunite them with their families and get them the help of psychologists. We have two chapters right now, but the other partner and I hope to open more on the East Coast.”

   “That’s great.”

   Addison smiles warmly. “We are always looking for volunteers if you have time. I know you’re in school, but maybe when you’re home?”

   While it may not be my idea of a priority for the town, it’s clearly doing good for those who need it. Not only would I like to see more, but also it would be good for me to volunteer as well.

   “I would love to. I hate to ask this, but would you be willing to provide volunteer hours? I’ll volunteer regardless, but I’ve decided to transfer schools, and it would be really great to have it on my applications.”

   God, I hate this part. However, it’s the games we play to get into school.

   “Of course I can do that! I remember all too well how ridiculous schools are. My sister-in-law was a nightmare because she didn’t have all the things that she thought she needed.”

   “Did she move here with you guys?” I ask.

   Devney clears her throat. “Just Addison and Elodie are in Sugarloaf.”

   I feel like I’m missing something.

   Addison places her hands in her lap. “After my husband was killed almost three years ago, I came here to start over. All of my family are back in Oregon still.”

   “I’m sorry for your loss.”

   Before I can say anything else, Olivia puts the crayon down and points to the counter. “I think that’s my cue to get her some ice cream. It was great seeing you. If it’s okay, I’ll come by tomorrow since I have the day off from the nanny gig.”

   They both smile. “I’d love that,” Addison says.

   With that set, I take Olivia’s hand and we head to the counter. She gets two scoops because I’m a total sucker.

   “That’ll be eleven dollars.”

   “Eleven dollars for two scoops and half a spoon of sprinkles?” I ask, eyes wide. “What, did you go out back and milk the cow and hand churn it into ice cream?”

   Josiah Sandifer rolls his eyes. “Are you going to pay for your goods, or do I need to call the cops?”

   I lean in. “I remember a certain story about a little boy who was on a fishing trip and thought he could catch himself so he tried to stick the hook in his own mouth. He peed his pants when they took the hook out but told everyone he fell in the water . . .” I drop my voice lower. “Do you know who that was, Josiah?”

   He leans back. “Fine, five dollars. Sprinkles are free.”

   “Can you put it on my dad’s tab?”

   The little jackass laughs. “Tab? What tab? Mr. Pips says you’re not allowed to put anything on a tab . . .”

   Oh, yeah. During my freshman year in high school, my friends and I came in here every day and put everything on my dad’s tab. After two months of it not being paid, my father got a very large bill. My dad made me work the dairy farm down the road for the whole summer with no pay. I didn’t know people paid a tab. I thought it was just . . . free money.

   Sometimes I sound stupid even to myself.

   “Okay. Give me a second.”

   Unsure of how I’m going to pay for this, I dig through my purse, searching for a few dollars I always keep at the bottom, and look up when Olivia gasps.

   Asher is standing next to us in his uniform with a big smile for his daughter. He signs and speaks. “I thought I would surprise you girls.”

   Olivia wraps her arms around him, and my heart thaws a little. There is something about a big grumpy asshole who melts at the sight of his daughter.

   No, no, there’s not.

   I can’t even let myself think about this. No way in hell.

   “Are you getting ice cream?” he asks.

   “No, I . . . wasn’t going to.”

   “Why?”

   I huff. “Because I’d forgotten that Josiah here did away with the tabs. When I was going to order for myself, he so kindly informed me of the rule change. So, I probably have enough for Olivia, and that’s who matters.”

   Asher turns to Josiah with his head tilted to the side. “Since when did Mr. Pips do away with the tabs?”

   “She didn’t say it was your tab, Officer Whitlock.”

   Asher’s eyes narrow. “You know Olivia is my daughter, right?”

   He nods.

   “Then . . . I’m curious why you thought it wouldn’t go on my tab?”

   I stand here, fighting back a smile as Asher puts him in his place.

   “Sorry,” Josiah says to him and then me.

   Asher turns to me. “Get anything you want.”

   That slightly giddy feeling I had is now gone. Instead, I feel stupid and ridiculous for needing him to come in and pay for me.

   “I’m okay. I don’t need anything.”

   “Get what you want, Phoebe. I’ll pay for it.”

   “I can pay for myself,” I say, feeling slightly defiant. I don’t want or need charity.

   His voice drops as he leans in. “I didn’t say you couldn’t. Get something so you and Liv can sit and have ice cream.”

   Olivia watches the two of us and asks, “Are you getting ice cream too?”

   I close my eyes for a second and then nod to her before placing my order.

   Asher kisses Olivia’s cheek and then grins at me. “Enjoy your ice cream. I’ll see you both later.”

   I really want to wipe that smirk off his face.

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