she replied when she was
sure her voice wouldn’t squeak.
“Trust me, it is. I’ve been meaning to get
the dishwasher fixed, but I haven’t had time.”
She nodded. In her few hours at the home, it
was clear there were several things that hadn’t been changed since
his late wife’s death. An outdated calendar on the fridge.
Magazines on the coffee table, stained and water-wrinkled.
It made her wonder if he was still mourning
his wife, and that’s why the things had been left undone. It wasn’t
a good feeling.
Maybe she shouldn’t ask him…
“You didn’t come here today to be my kids’
nanny, did you?”
Her eyes flew to his face. He looked
exhausted. Funny how she hadn’t noticed the lines bracketing his
mouth, though she’d watched him all through dinner. Or maybe he’d
been smiling so much the lines had blended right in.
“No, I came—” The words stuck in her throat.
She cleared it. “I didn’t realize you were going back to work.”
He exhaled, fanned a hand through the hair at
his nape. “Have to. Only half time, though. The insurance money is
just about gone.”
The coffee machine beeped and Brand looked at
it like he’d never seen it before.
Sarah pulled out a mug – she’d located them
when putting all the dishes away – and filled it with the aromatic
brew. “Though you might need it.” When she’d seen the pile of
paperwork he’d set aside with his briefcase. How could he work and
take care of the three boys and the household chores all on his
own?
He accepted it with a grateful sniff. “I
will. Thank you.”
He took a long drink, leaned his hips against
the counter behind him. This close, she could reach out and touch
him if she wanted. And she wanted. She just wasn’t sure how he’d
react.
He stared off into space, expression pensive.
“I haven’t had a cup of coffee this good since before Gina
died.”
The heaviness in his voice was her undoing.
Her hand was on his arm, a simple touch on his forearm and she felt
it all the way to her bones. His eyes met hers; she let her hand
slip off his sleeve.
“I’m sorry.” Was she apologizing for his loss
or the touch? The emotions rioting through her made it impossible
to tell.
He shifted his feet, rand his hand over his
face. “Thanks. But you didn’t come here to listen to me whine. Why
did you come here?”
Again, the words just wouldn’t come out.
“Maybe I could help with the boys until you find someone else. You
said there weren’t any good candidates today, but you can keep
looking, right? And my job is pretty flexible.” It was. That’s one
of the main reasons she ran her own company, an IT support
business.
His shoulders lifted. “Really? You’d help us
out?”
“Yeah.” And so much more, if he would let
her.
“Well, great. Can you come tomorrow?”
“Sure. There’s only one problem. I don’t know
anything about kids.”
DAY 1, MORNING.
ATTEMPT 2.
“You really weren’t kidding, were you?”
She’d dreamed about the last few moments with
Brand all night, including the rich-as-chocolate chuckle he’d
gifted her with before ushering her out the door, so it seemed
natural to Sarah that their conversation flowed right from where
they’d left off.
As natural as it could while she held a
gurgling baby with green goop smeared all over his face.
“No, I wasn’t kidding.” But she couldn’t keep
from responding to Brand’s smile. She laughed.
“Can I ask how you ended up helping in Josh’s
Bible school class?” Brand slapped a sandwich into a baggie and
tossed it into the briefcase located, once again, on top of the
fridge.
“It’s the only place they can’t reach,” he
explained when he caught her open-mouthed look.
“A friend – Gale – roped me into it. All I do
is give the kids Cheerios and keep them from taking each other’s
toys. Gale does the real work.”
“Well, the sharing thing is a good strategy
to start with. I wrote down a couple other
Learning to Kill: Stories