Page 6 of Make You Mine

The first words out of her mouth are reassurance.

“It’s nothing, Declan,” she says, rustling noises in the background. “I just… between walking Willow to school and Emmett’s checkup… I forgot to eat. I’m fine now.”

“Are you?” I ask, skeptical. “Because if your glucose is tanking, that doesn’t sound like fine to me, Amerie. I’m an hour away, and you don’t know anyone in the area.”

“I know that. But we moved for your job, remember?” she snipes back. “And before you ask—yes, I’ve eaten and I’ve taken insulin. I know how to manage my own body, Declan.”

Her voice drips with irritation.

That’s the thing about my lovely little wife: she’s got a temper and she’s headstrong.

Most days, I love that about her. Other times, like now, it just means neither of us will back down.

“I’m not doubting you, love,” I say, keeping my cool. “I’m doubting whether you’ll bloody take a break before you drop.”

She sighs, pausing long enough to let my words linger a moment. “What are you saying?”

“I think you know. Have you given it some thought?”

“I don’t know, Declan… it just seems…” she puffs out another breath, “silly to have help when I can do it myself. Am I really going to have some lady come to our house to pick up after us?”

I laugh like she’s told a joke. “Yes, love. That’s exactly the idea. And we’ll pay her handsomely to do it.”

“Hmm, maybe…”

“What if we put up a few job postings? Just meet some candidates and see how you feel?” I say, sensing her defenses lowering. Time to move in for the kill. “We can afford it now, Amerie. I’m making triple what I was. What have I told you?”

“You want the best for me and the kids.”

“Yes. And?”

“For me to make time for myself and my writing.”

“Precisely. Which means?”

I can hear the smile in her voice now. “Okay,” she says softly. “We’ll give it a try.”

We hang up from our call with a grin spreading on my face. First deal brokered for the day. No wonder Halberd hand-picked me for this role.

Chapter 3

Amerie

Twenty-four hours.

That’s all it takes for the job applications to come flooding in.

My phone pings each time I receive a new email, another submission from a potential hire. Willow’s eyes light up at the sound.

“Mommy, you have a message,” she says over her berry yogurt.

“I know, Lo. It must be another application.”

“For the maid?”

I pause as I move about the kitchen, trying to pack her lunchbox. “I’m not sure we’re calling her a maid. That seems kind of… dated. She’ll do more than cleaning. She’ll hang out with you and Emmett too.”

“Nanny?” she squeaks, tilting her head to the side.

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