Make Me Yours

“That’s right.”

“And you’re serious?”

“I am.”

“I don’t care if you’re drunk.” She sticks out her hand. “When do I start?”

I catch it in a nice, firm handshake. “How about Monday? You could move your things tomorrow evening, meet Lillie, get a feel for the place… Is that too soon?”

“We should have a contract or something… lay some ground rules. I’ve never been a nanny before.”

I study this beautiful girl with bright, intelligent eyes. Her lips are red and full, and she smells like new roses. Not old lady roses, nice clean and crisp ones. I want to hold her in my arms again. I want to bury my face in her hair and slide my hands from her narrow waist, over her slim hips, cupping her ass and lifting her against the wall…

In my current state, I see no conflict in having these feelings and offering her a job. In hindsight, I probably am drunk. Still, I know my instincts are always good.

“I’ll put a contract together, and you can look over it tomorrow. If you’re at church, you can meet Lillie and let me know.”

“One month.” She holds up a finger, and I tilt my head to the side.

“What about it?”

“We’ll have a one-month trial period.” Then she nods, standing in front of the bar and picking up her small bag. “We’ll meet tomorrow, and if the contract looks good, I’ll do a one-month trial period. After that, we can decide if I stay.”

“You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“I’m a professional. I cover all my bases.” Her phone is out, and she taps the pink Lyft app.

“Give me your number.”

She starts to object, then she backs down. “I was going to make a joke, but you’re right. You’ll need to be able to reach me.”

Even if she decides not to work for me, I want to be able to reach her. Everything about this night is different, special. I’m sure it won’t happen again… like it’s the second chance I can’t let slip away.

Her digits are in my phone, and I send her a quick text. “Now you have mine.”

“My ride’s here. See you tomorrow.”

I follow her to the door, holding it as she steps out into the night. “Text me when you get there.”

She pauses at the door and squints up at me. “Oakville’s pretty small. I’m sure I’ll get home just fine.”

“Still, I’d like to know you made it.”

“You know I’ve been taking care of myself for a while.”

“Please?”

She does a little eye roll before hopping into the waiting car. I get one last look at her pretty legs before the door closes, and she’s gone.

Inside the bar, five minutes later, I’ve just settled up my tab when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Sliding it out, the text shining on the screen tightens my stomach.

Made it home, boss. Happy?

I quickly tap out a reply. So far, you’re an exemplary employee. Looking forward to tomorrow.

A few seconds pass, and I’m walking to the door as the gray bubble floats, indicating she’s typing a reply. For as long as it takes, I’m a little surprised it’s only two words.

Me too.