Miss Fix-It

Awkwardly, I hovered halfway down the stairs.

Did I stay? Did I go? I was wearing my client’s t-shirt. So many things were wrong with this situation.

“Daddy?” Ellie shuffled out of her room. “I need a pwat.”

Brantley poked his head out of the door. “Can you give me a couple minutes, princess?”

She pouted.

“You want a plait?” the words left my mouth without warning.

Ellie nodded at me.

“I can do your hair,” I said softly.

Ellie’s eyes widened and she looked at Brantley.

He shrugged. “If Kali can do it, then sure.”

I nodded and smiled. “Come on, Ellie. Grab me a hairbrush and tie and I’ll do it for you.”

I followed her into her room and sat on the edge of her bed with my legs parted. She stood between my legs like she’d done it a thousand times, handing me the brush and tie without moving her head.

Gently, I brushed her wet hair. It moved in thick streaks until all knots had gone, and I separated it into three to braid it. Left, right, left, right, left right, left, right. Lock by lock, I braided her hair until the perfect plait lay down the center of her back.

I tied the end of it, ending the braid with a few swift twists of the band.

“All right,” Brantley said softly. “Into bed, princess, okay?”

Ellie nodded, turning briefly to smile at me. I fought my smile as I stood and headed back toward the stairs.

She ran her hand down the one, long braid that now hung over her shoulder. “Fanks, Kawi.”

“You’re welcome.” I smiled and ducked out of the room, heading downstairs so he could put them to bed in peace.

I tugged at the hem of the shirt. It was soft and comfortable, a million times better than the wet tank top, there was no doubt about it.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I sighed, hovering at the bottom, gripping onto the banister. I didn’t want to leave, but I also knew I couldn’t stay. What did I say, though? Did I offer to wash the shirt and bring it back the next day?

God, why did I accept that idea?

I wandered into the kitchen. Floorboards creaked above my head as Brantley moved around, and I leaned against the counter, picking my phone up and checking it. I had a hundred and one notifications, including emails from clients and potential ones and texts from my mom demanding to know the real reason I bailed tonight.

Fucking awesome.

The woman could see right through me.

I ignored the message and replied to an email requesting a quote for a custom-made bookshelf. That was Dad’s territory, but I didn’t think my mom would appreciate me ignoring her and texting him, so that would go on tomorrow’s to-do list.

“Hey.” Brantley appeared in the kitchen.

I jumped, almost dropping my phone. My heart thundered with the shock of his arrival.

He fought a laugh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I pressed my hand to my chest and waved my phone in a dismissive way. “Working. I have emails out my ass.”

“That’s an interesting analogy.” He paused right in front of me. “I have to admit, that’s the first time I’ve seen a shirt of mine worn that way.”

I glanced at the knot at my hip. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t mean to stretch it. I didn’t think.”

I moved to undo it, but he grabbed my hand, laughing.

“Don’t worry about it, Kali. It’s an old shirt. Wear it however you want.”

My skin tingled where his hand had hold of mine. Up and down my arm, across my palm, across my knuckles…I practically buzzed with the sensation of his hot skin against mine.

I pulled my hand from his and took a tiny step back. “Thanks. I’ll wash it and return it, I promise.”

“Don’t worry.” His lips tugged to the side. Once again, his eyes roved over me, flicking down to the faded image on the front of the shirt for a second. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me out tonight. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

My cheeks heated slightly. “It’s okay. I mean, I have to be honest and say I probably won’t rush to do it again…”

His laughter cut me off. “Don’t worry—I told them that if they do this again, they’ll have to reschedule.”

“And they didn’t care?”

“They’re not allowed to care. I’m the head of the department. They have to do what I say.” He grinned, pushing off the counter and heading for the fridge.

“Ah, well, I can see how that would be useful.”

“You could say that.” He paused. “Hey…I didn’t get a chance to eat yet. I was going to order in. Do you want to join me?”

For dinner?

That’s not in my “distance” plan.

“I…I really should be going home.” I swallowed. “But, thank you for asking. That’s sweet.”

He smirked, pulling a beer bottle from the fridge. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. I’m ordering pizza because there isn’t a single bone in my body that wants to fucking cook, and you should tell me what pizza you like, because I’m buying you dinner.”