Make Me Yours

“Um…” I look around the large living room, the soft white sofa and huge flat screen television over the wide, dark fireplace. “You have such a beautiful home.”

“Think of it as yours while you’re here.”

“Right…” I wonder how long that will take. “I guess… do you need me to make breakfast in the morning?”

“Just for Lillie… and you, if you eat breakfast. Eleanor does her own thing, and I usually grab a yogurt or a power bar.”

“Should I make coffee?”

“We have a Keurig.”

“Right.” Easy enough… “I saw preschool is at eight to noon. Do I make lunch?”

“Again, just for the two of you.” He smiles. “Dinner’s really the only meal we eat together. Eleanor has a private chef who comes three times a week. She’s very particular about her diet… Our diet.”

“Ah.” I nod. “Explains why she’s so thin.”

We’ve been moving closer as we speak, and now we’re in front of each other. I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. I can smell the earthy fragrance of his cologne—sandalwood, leather, and soap. I remember it from the bar when he caught me.

“She’s very particular about a lot of things, but I’m hoping to ease her into her own place.”

I think about my own mother. “Let me know how that goes.”

“I guess you’ll be here to witness it.” The dimple in his cheek causes the space between my legs to heat. Our breath is warm, and we’re so close. My lips are full and heavy, and if I lift my chin, I’m certain his would dip, and our mouths would caress…

Or maybe I’m daydreaming.

Stepping back, I do my best to break the spell. “I’d better go on up. Morning comes early.”

His eyes hold mine, warm and inviting. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Jesus take the wheel, if I told him what I need right now…

“Thanks.” I’m retreating fast, while I still can. “And thanks for the job.”

“You’re helping me, remember?” He smiles, and that dimple almost scrambles my brain.

“Right. Although, it looks like you’ve got everything pretty much under control.”

“Things aren’t always how they appear.”

He can say that again. I turn, leaving as fast as possible without running. If I stay here, so close to him one more minute, I’m not sure what might happen.

In my room, I strip off my leggings and toss the chambray shirt on the back of a chair. I grab a notebook from my backpack and crawl into the super silky sheets, beneath the thick duvet, and bend my knees.

At the top of the page, in all capital letters, I write GOALS. Under it, I make a numbered list.

1. Get my own place.

2. Pay off my credit card.

3. Save for new career options.

Yes. This is what I need to do. Focus on my goals. This is how I’ll resist the temptation sleeping one floor below me and not fuck this up.

“Penny cakes!” Lillie sits on the stool across from me with a plastic cup of orange juice in one hand and a fork in the other.

I frown, studying the box of pancake mix. Mix with water, drop onto hot griddle, flip when bubbles appear.