Page 14 of Touch My Shelves

That same fizzy hum is back in my tummy, so I smile and ignore the way his shirt pulls across his chest and the way his dark hair falls to one side. “Yes, thank you. The bed is really comfortable. And big. I bet three people could easily fit.”

My face heats. Why does my mouth say such stupid things?

“I mean, I’ve never had three people in my bed. I don’t… I’ve only had… I mean…”

Stop. Stop. Stop.

His lips twitch, but he fights the grin. “Poppy,” he says, putting a welcome end to my verbal drowning.

I look up at him, hopeful he’s going to stop my pain. Unfortunately, both of us glance toward the bed before our eyes connect with each other’s. One of his perfectly formed brows rises and he says, “I don’t share.”

Panties drenched, I swallow stiffly, feeling the desire behind his glance. In my mind, time stands still while visions of being wrapped around him in the bed play before my eyes. He sees it too. I know he does.

Freeya pops into the room and breaks whatever moment just passed between us. “Dad, Chef said breakfast is ready.”

Brax takes a step back and nervously stuffs his hands in his pockets. He clears his throat and explains, “Hannah Murphy dropped the suitcase off this morning with some more donations from the community.”

I glance at the suitcase and tuck an already-tucked piece of hair behind my ear. “Oh, that was nice of her. Thank you for bringing it up.”

I tug on the hem on my t-shirt and hope the shorts are covering my ass. I don’t have many options among the donated clothes to choose from, and I feel very out there in these.

He gives me one stilted nod. “No problem. After breakfast, I’d like to meet with you briefly to go over expectations and your schedule.”

“Sure. We can do that.” Why is my face hot? I can feel the breeze from the open window, but it’s doing nothing to cool me off.

Freeya loops her arm through mine and I let her lead me out of the bedroom and down the hall, away from the bed that was too close to her father.

Breakfast is delicious, but much too soon I find myself alone at the table with Brax. Freeya went to get her school books and start her reading.

“As I said, you’ll be responsible for Freeya from nine to five each day.” He pulls a piece of paper from a folder I hadn’t noticed beside his plate and hands it to me. “This is her schedule.”

I glance at the itemized schedule. Every minute of the child’s day is accounted for.

Brax goes on to clarify, “She has an hour of assigned reading time from nine to ten. At ten, you are to quiz her on what she’s read and explain as needed. The next hour is spent with an online math course, followed by history. Lunch is from twelve to one and is brought to the school room. After lunch is language arts, followed by science and social studies. If there is any time left before five, she can work on her own creative writing projects.”

He pauses and when I look up from the schedule from hell, I see he’s waiting in case I have any questions. I don’t. How could I? Everything is spelled out explicitly.

When he continues, my eyes go back to the paper. “Any work she doesn’t finish during class time is considered homework and I’ll work with her to finish. I don’t want her falling behind on any assignments.”

I lay the schedule down. “That’s a very full day for a, what, fourth grader?”

“Yes, Freeya is almost ten. She should finish her fourth year classes before the end of the year and move on to fifth in the new year.”

“Wow. Talk about your overachiever. Two grades in one school year.” I pick up the paper again and pretend to give it another going over. “I don’t see any fun scheduled. When does she go for a walk on the beach or kick a soccer ball, or even swim in that huge pool I saw in the back yard?”

His lips pull into a fine line, clearly disliking my question. “We do fun things. We exercise in the morning and sometimes that’s laps in the pool. Freeya has never shown an aptitude for team sports, so I’ve never pushed that.”

Since when do you need an aptitude for joining a recreational soccer team?

“So she has tried out for a soccer team, basketball team, or any type of team sport?”

He tugs at his collar. “Well, no. She’s always been taught from home. We don’t live here all the time, Poppy, just when I’m working on a deadline.”

“Oh, so she has friends and things she does back home? A girlfriend that she has sleepovers with and someone to share secrets?”

His lips purse before he admits, “Well, no. She and my sister used to go to museums and things like that before Lena moved to Italy. Since then, we’ve been through a lot of nannies.”

“Why so many?” Maybe there is something weird going on like Naudi thinks if he can’t keep a nanny.

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