Page 49 of Make You Mine

When he finally relaxes, I pull back and lick my lips, smiling up at him as he looks down at me with something between awe and affection.

“You’re a menace,” he rasps, still catching his breath. “A goddamn angel and devil rolled into one.”

“You started it, I finished it,” I say, smirking as I rise up.

He pulls me into his arms and kisses me on the lips.

We finish our shower as if the naughty interlude never happened, thankfully wrapping it up in time to wake Willow for school and for Declan to make his train.

“It could work out,” I say, balancing my phone in the crook between my shoulder and neck. I’m at my desk, typing an email up to my publisher as I’m on the phone with Declan.

It’s one of those rare lunch hours where heactuallyhas time to talk. While I’m multitasking at my desk at home, he’s doing the same in his big executive office at Halberd’s London division.

He sighs from his end of the phone and says, “I don’t know, Amerie. I’m not sure there’s any gits here who’d be interested in a girl like her.”

“Why do you say it like that?” I ask, half rising out of my chair to glance out of the window at the garden below.

Chelsea and Willow are out there again, barefoot in the grass, giggling over flower crowns and ducklings. They’ve been attached at the hip ever since Willow’s Easter break started.

I’m not mad at it, mostly because it’s exactly what we hired Chelsea for, and she’s been teaching Willow all about the flowers and plants in our garden, whichhavebeen thriving all spring thanks to her.

What is there to really complain about?

Yet, as I glance down at the garden and see the pair giggling like school girls, I can’t deny a small pang of jealousy hits me.

Willow has always beenmylittle shadow.

The petty part of me can’t help feeling like I’ve been replaced, even if it sounds ridiculous.

“You know what I mean,” Declan goes on. “Chelsea is a nice girl. She’s helpful and well-mannered, but you can’t deny she’s a bit… strange.”

I grin to myself. “Says the man who believes aliens once tried to abduct him.”

“Hey, those bloody bastards did try to snatch me outside a pub in Manchester! I was lucky to fight them off. I swear on my life they did.”

I laugh softly. “Okay, so she’s a little odd. But aren’t we all sometimes? She’s a cute girl. She just needs a makeover. Maybe some contacts.”

“I’m not convinced any of the junior analysts here are her type. Most of them are right wankers, love.”

“Well, think about it. It’s the least we can do. She’s been good with the kids,” I say, shrugging. I’ve clicked send on the email I’ve typed and snapped shut my laptop. “Besides, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll need her.”

“What do you mean?”

“This whole nanny thing—I never agreed it’d be permanent, Declan. It was nice having the help while I was working on this manuscript, but I’m finishing it up soon. I’ll be done by summer and Willow will be home. The book will be going through the editing rounds. I’ll have more bandwidth.”

“How about this? We’ll talk about it more after Scotland, yeah?”

We hang up with the usual I-love-yous, promising to see each other in a few hours for dinner.

I stretch my neck, then push my chair back with a quiet sigh. Just a couple more weeks and I can finally breathe again. The manuscript will be sent off and it’ll finally be off my plate. At least for the time being.

I lean toward the window again.

The garden’s empty.

No Chelsea. No Willow. No little yellow dress streaking through the hydrangeas or muddy rain boots by the hedge.

Weird.

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