Mr. Smithfield - Page 17

“What are you doing?”

“If I’m going to be your wingman, I need a drink.”

“My wingman? What are you talking about? We’re here to make sure Autumn’s okay.”

“Right,” Joshua answered, handing me a pint of Guinness. “Couldn’t possibly be that you have a crush on Hot Autumn, and you’ve lost your bollocks and won’t ask her out on a date, so you’re following her around.”

I put my beer back on the bar. “You’re being ridiculous. She doesn’t know London. She grew up in the middle of nowhere, never been to a big city before. She could be in trouble.”

Joshua didn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”

I didn’t have time to argue with him.

“Gabriel?”

I snapped my head around to find Autumn looking quite bewildered. “Thank God. Are you okay?” I asked.

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, offsetting the slight frown she wore. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?” Her gaze flitted to Joshua, who raised his pint at her.

“I heard a scream and a crash, and I was concerned,” I said, feeling a little foolish now I’d found her and she was patently fine. “I couldn’t get hold of you and I thought something might have happened.”

“Where’s Bethany?”

“Tristan’s babysitting. You seem fine though?”

She glanced back at a table of people over on the other side of the bar. “Yeah, fine. Someone dropped their drink. That’s all. Come and join us.”

I was an idiot. I shouldn’t be here. I’d chased across town to check on a grown woman who was completely able to look after herself. I glanced over at Joshua, who I expected to be wearing an I-told-you-so expression, but he was too busy talking to the barmaid.

“No, thank you. We’re going to go. Just didn’t want you to be in any trouble. You’ve not been in London long and Whitechapel isn’t the most . . . Well, it’s not Mayfair.”

She rolled her lips together as if she was editing what she was going to say next. “It’s very sweet of you to check up on me.”

I shrugged. “I thought you were in trouble. That’s all. You’re a good nanny . . . and Bethany likes you.”

Autumn laughed. “Oh yes, right. Wouldn’t want to lose a good nanny.”

“That came out wrong.” I couldn’t find the right words. I’d heard the strange voice then the scream—had I put two and two together and come out with nineteen? It would seem like it, but better to be safe than sorry. Right? I tried to think whether I would have done the same for any of the other nannies we’d had over the years.

I doubt I would have noticed a man’s voice in the background of any of the phone calls I’d had with them. Or a scream. Or breaking glass. I would have been entirely focused on Bethany and getting her to bed.

But Autumn wasn’t like the other nannies we’d had before.

Maybe Joshua hadn’t been so far off.

“Well, we should go,” I said. “As you’re fine.” I tried to catch Joshua’s eye, but he was too busy flirting.

“You could buy me a drink,” Autumn suggested.

I looked at her, making sure I’d heard her right. It was like she was daring me to step over some unspoken line in the sand. She held my gaze as if she were willing me to set my foot down.

No. I wasn’t here to have drinks. Flirt. Touch. I shouldn’t be here at all.

“We’re leaving. Now it’s clear there’s nothing wrong. There’s no reason to stay.”

“Are you sure?” Autumn asked.

I nodded. “Joshua,” I called out. “We’re leaving.”

What had I been thinking coming here? Autumn was a grown woman. I had no business running after her in the middle of the night and leaving my daughter. I needed to remember the promises I’d made to myself to stay away from women. My life and my daughter didn’t need complication, disappointment, and disruption.

Eight

Autumn

As I wrestled with Bethany’s pink and blue swim cap, I had a pang of homesickness. It didn’t happen very often, but the summers I’d spent lifeguarding back in Oregon had been fun—perhaps the only fun bit of life in Oregon. I was bummed I wasn’t going to be in the water today. Bethany’s swimming class didn’t have parents and caregivers in the water with the students once they’d reached four.

An image of Gabriel in swim trunks flashed into my brain. Perhaps I should suggest both of us take Bethany swimming some time.

Neither of us had brought up the way he came after me last weekend. He’d been in bed when I’d gotten home that night, and I’d barely seen him this week. When we crossed paths in the kitchen after Bethany was asleep, he’d grunted at me before heading straight to his locked door, still without giving me any clues to what he was doing in there.

Tags: Louise Bay Romance
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