His head tipped as his stare turned curious. “Did you always want to work with kids?”
“Ever since I learned that a unicorn doctor isn’t a thing, and a bride is just a one day job.”
A smile climbed to his eyes. “A bride?”
She shrugged. “Moms are a big deal in my family. When I was little, I just assumed you needed to be a bride to be a mom.”
“So, you want kids.”
“I think so—someday.”
“How old are you?”
She flushed, hoping he wasn’t asking because she sounded immature or overly whimsical, which she sometimes was. “I’m twenty-one.”
He blinked as if this surprised him. “I assumed you were a little older.” He took a subtle step back, but she felt the intentional distance, unsure how to translate such body language.
“Is my age a problem?”
“Not at all. Just a surprise.”
An awkward moment passed where neither of them seemed to know how to gracefully move on. “I have all my paperwork in the car,” she blurted, painfully aware of the strange shift in energy.
“Ah. Good. Erin will need that.”
Right. Erin.
Maybe dealing with Erin would be less awkward than dealing with him. Maybe it was this house. The charismatic mayor she glimpsed on the streets of Jasper Falls didn’t seem the same as the man standing in front of her now.
He held himself so stiff, he appeared almost brittle. And the gaping voids of conversation filled with long silent seconds passed like a handful of sand down a windpipe. She desperately wished Addison would wake up. Children were easier to read than adults.
Following him downstairs, she studied the layout of the house and asked questions pertinent to the job. He went over a few of Addison’s preferences as far as food choices and cartoons.
Skylar got the impression that they ate a lot of takeout and TV dinners. Aside from the occasional meal at her grandfather’s restaurant, which was technically homemade, her family never ordered out or ate anything out of a box. Her grandmother and great-aunts wouldn’t allow it.
A collection of freshly laundered dry cleaning hung on a hook in the foyer, beside her coat. He flipped through the many suits and located a collection of ties, selecting a winter green one that matched his eyes.
She hadn’t meant to stare, but coming from a family that mostly wore flannel or cotton, she found his wardrobe fascinating. Sometimes her Uncle Braydon wore suits when he worked in the city, but those didn’t seem to have the same effect Mr. Buchanan’s suits were having on her now.
He knotted his tie with practiced ease. “You can call me or Erin with any questions throughout the day.”
The air of the house still carried a chill, but her skin felt overheated. “I should be fine.”
He slipped his arms into a pressed jacket and hitched it up his broad shoulders. “I try to wrap up at five every day, but I usually don’t get home until sometime between six and eight. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” Her throat dried and tightened. She assumed the job would be demanding, which was why she was eager to move her personal belongings into the house. “I haven’t had time to pack, but I thought I could fully move my stuff in this weekend.”
“Of course. The sooner the better.” A collection of personal effects sat on a table by the door. A watch. A wallet. A few business cards.
She watched as he sorted and tucked each item into its place. His brisk movements seemed so methodical and practiced, thoughtless, but also extremely thought out. She couldn’t help drawing comparisons between him and the men in her family, men who burped and kicked off their dusty boots and scratched themselves and grew beards out of sheer laziness and primitive habits.
There was nothing primitive about Rhett Buchanan. Primal seemed a much more fitting label. He was all man, but the most practiced, polished man she’d ever seen up close. She found him extremely intimidating and longed for the return of the humble, frazzled father she met yesterday.
Once he closed the clasp of his watch he turned to her, and his attention felt so hot and acute—almost accusing—her face burned and her gaze dropped to the floor. He totally caught her staring at him.
He cleared his throat. “You have everything you need?”
The pit of her belly hollowed with a sense of emptiness longing to be filled. She had all the information she needed to properly care for his child, but as far as having what she needed? She definitely felt like she did not. Her stomach muscles coiled around her core like hunger grabs hold of emptiness and squeezes. But she wasn’t hungry, not in any way she’d suffered hunger before.
“Skylar?”
Her name traced his lips with gentle inquisitiveness but tightened her body like a reprimand. What the hell was wrong with her? “Um…” What had he asked? Her needs… “Yes. I’m good.”