Page 3 of Love Notes & Lifelines
It’s heavy and black with baby-pink text:The Single Dad Hotline.
“What is this?” Turning it over in my palm does little to ease my apprehension. The back is blank.
He lets out a long, scoff-like exhale. “I told Lottie she needed more information on those cards. It’s nothing pervy. It’s a hotline for new single dads who have no clue what they’re doing but are suddenly responsible for a child or children. It’s nationwide now, and soon she’ll expand to offer nanny services, but for now, it’s just hotline helpers.”
“What? Who’s Lottie?” Pain pulses between my eyes. Whoever said stress headaches could be cured with deep breathing exercises has obviously never met me.
“Focus, Stella. I’ve known Lottie for years, and she’ll take good care of you, I promise. She runs a hotline for single dads who have no idea what they’re doing. Email her. Tell her I sent you, and she’ll set you up. You’ll get a monthly salary based on how many clients you match with, but remember, you’re at their mercy twenty-four seven, so don’t be an asshole and think you can handle twelve at a time. Just start with one or two clients, okay? It’s not ideal, but at least with this position you can do itfrom home, and I don’t have to worry about you taking the bus all over North Carolina.”
He shakes his head, then tugs on the back of his neck. “Listen, you’re running yourself into the ground to care for your mother. You’re strong, Stella, but you need a hand. That card is a step in the right direction to getting you back on your feet.”
“Will she have mannies too? What about single moms?”
Elijah tugs so hard on his suspenders they might snap. I lean out of the way just in case. This is a sure sign that he’s getting frustrated.
“Okay, Miss Skeptic, yes, Lottie will have mannies, though I don’t think she calls them that. Lottie will kill me for making her business personal,” he mutters. “And she does have a five-year plan for single moms, but she built her business from the clientele she had access to through her father—rich, single men.” He frowns. “I think she started it because her own father was a single parent, and he was a nightmare who never asked for help. She hopes that through her company she can help other children in similar situations.”
I’m rubbing my temples, attempting to process all this information, when the door is wrenched open again. I hold my breath while Elijah steps in front of me. I love this man. I know he’s trying to shield me in case it’s Caleb, but he’s not much bigger than I am.
“Elijah?”
My insides coil into a tight knot. They do it every time I hear that man’s voice.
“Stella? What are you two doing in here?” Mr. Hayes stares at me sitting on an overturned bucket with a fabric lunch box at my feet. “Are you eating lunch in here? Why are you two eating lunch in a utility closet?”
“Better question is, why areyouin a utility closet?” Elijah counters.
But we all know the answer to that question. This is where he hides his chocolates—the man has an incurable sweet tooth. I normally refill his drawer for him, but he’s been in his office at odd hours this week and I didn’t want to risk being caught.
He proves me right when his gaze darts to the basket above my head, and my lips twitch. Elijah thinks he keeps them in here because he has no self-control, but I’m not so sure. I think Mr. Hayes is in control of every situation he encounters, and I hate that I find it so frustratingly sexy.
“I…spilled my coffee,” he says reaching for the mop to my left.
I grab it just as he does. Our fingers twist around each other’s, and our eyes meet, but I can’t hold his gaze when his nostrils flare. He’s the pot of gold under a rainbow. No matter how close you get, he’s always out of reach.
His fingers press into my knuckles, and my body zings to life. His energy zips through my veins like a drone that only he controls.
“I’ll get them—it, I mean. Elijah said you have a meeting at one. I’ll take care of it.”
My voice is as shaky as I feel. It makes me sound weak, and it’s irritating. I wasn’t always this way around men of authority. I used to have a spine—I probably even knew who the hell I was at one point.
He lets go of the mop and my hand as though it bit him. His glare is hot and steely when he addresses me. “You understand that your job is to assist Caleb, correct?”
My head snaps up at his tone. He sounds almost…angry. What the hell? Over the last few weeks, he’s become increasingly irritated around me, and I don’t know why, but it makes my stomach hollow out.I need this job.
Instead of answering him, I nod. He’s so close that if I moved my knee an inch we’d touch, but I know we’d set fire to this place if I did. It’s all too much.
And why does he have to smell so good? Who would have guessed that at twenty-nine years old I’d salivate for fresh-cut grass and the ocean? But seriously, he has a high-pressure job with hundreds of people depending on him—maybe thousands of people. He should stink like stress sweat, but it’s quite the opposite. The more balls he has in the air, the better he smells.
Well, that’s what the girls say in the break room anyway.
He crouches down in front of me so we’re eye to eye. If I remembered how to breathe, we’d be sharing air.
“You’re not obligated to clean up messes or fix printers or make other peoples’ days easier.” His breath blows my hair away from my face. Why ishebreathing so hard? Did he run laps before coming in here to yell at me?
I press my lips into a thin line—he’s been watching me, too.
“Don’t be a dick just because you’re having a bad day, Becker.” Elijah and Mr. Hayes have been friends for years. I can’t imagine using that tone with a boss, but Elijah knows what he can get away with.
