Page 25 of Only Temporary

He laughs and walks toward the stove to stir whatever is in the big pot of boiling water. “Insane? I know. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it all day.”

He thinks about the kids all day? For some reason, that spreads warmth throughout my entire body, and I can’t help but smile. I’ve never met anyone like him before. I’ve known some decent social workers—not that I really gave them that much of a chance, but none of them cared this much.

“I don’t think it’s insane,” I say as I walk toward him. “What are you making?”

“Spaghetti,” he says with a small smile.

“I have to go get groceries out of the car. When I get back, will you show me how it’s not burning and sticking to the pan?”

He seems to light up at that and nods, biting on his full bottom lip a little in a nervous gesture I find oddly adorable. “Yeah. I can do that.”

I head outside to the car and bring in the groceries, putting them away as Phillip gives me some more cooking tips.

“I’m glad you aren’t upset that I’m here,” he says as he drains the pasta. “It’s kind of a huge breach of protocol. You could have me fired.”

I never even thought of that, so I decide to be honest. “All I felt once I saw you here was relief.”

He nearly drops the pan of pasta, looking startled, and I start toward him to make sure he didn’t burn himself. But he recovers before I reach him and offers me a forced, polite smile. “I’m glad. I’m happy to help out when I can.”

“So does this make us friends?” I ask, trying to smile and lighten the mood a little.

He chuckles quietly. “I’m not sure that’s ethical.”

He goes to stir the sauce on the stove, and I lean my hip next to the counter to look at him when he does. He’s a really beautiful man. There’s no denying that or any confusion about it. He’s leaner than me and not quite as tall, but there’s nothing feminine about him. He has a quiet strength inside him I noticed from the beginning. His facial features are sharp lines—he could be a runway model or something—but none of that really intrigues me all that much.

I’ve never been attracted to a man before in my life, and I don’t think that’s what this is. I’ve never really been attracted to anyone, if I’m totally honest. I’m just drawn to his kindness and his heart. A guy who works nine to five with fucked-up families and situations, who then takes time after he clocks out to cook dinner for one of those families? He’s an enigma.

“Why not?” I ask quietly. “You’re just Phillip right now, right? Not on the clock.”

His eyes lift to meet mine, and I can’t take my gaze off him. He looks almost shy, and for some reason, I really like that look on him. “I suppose that’s what I am right now then. Your friend.”

The wordfriendseems all wrong, and for whatever reason I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from his lips—that is, until Raegan walks into the room, looking over at the stove. “That actually smells really good,” Raegan says to Phillip.

He beams at that. “Well, your brother helped.”

Raegan and I both snort at that because I didn’t do shit, but Phillip is unbothered. “Do you mind setting the table, Raegan?”

I tense, waiting for the usual shrill, screeching anger I’m met with when I ask her to do something, but she doesn’t argue. Just nods her head quietly before grabbing dishes out of the cabinet and heading toward the small table. “You staying?” she asks, looking over at Phillip. Honest to God, I almost fall over. She’s inviting him to stay?

“Yes,” I answer for him before he can turn her down. His eyes meet mine in a silent question. “Friends, right?”

He purses his lips, and his eyes are expressive as I watch him war with himself. It’s really not fair to do that to him, but I can’t resist. “Right,” he says and smiles over at Raegan. “We can talk more about that art club.”

She gives him a shy smile, and holy shit, I didn’t even know she knew how to smile.

The guy is a miracle worker.

TWELVE

What are you doing, Phillip? Like really. What the hell are you doing?

I know better than this. I know I shouldn’t be here. It’s a total breach of protocol, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

All day, I couldn’t stop thinking about how today was the kids’ first day at their new schools. After the stress of losing their mom, moving into a new home with a brother they hadn’t seen in years, and then the funeral... it just broke my heart.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how I could try to make it a little easier on them and maybe making a nice dinner wasn’t such a bad idea. My heart wouldn’t stop thundering in my chest the entire time I drove to the house, and when I got here, I wasn’t surprised to find the kids alone.

I know Kellan has to work until five most nights—something I told him is perfectly fine. Cason is almost sixteen. He’s more than capable of keeping an eye on his younger siblings for two hours a day. But I still felt like I needed to do something.

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