Wanted: Adored (Kindle Worlds Novella), Page 3

  “Definitely more than a blossom going on down there.”

  Scarlett wakes during the shuffle from the car to the house, and it triggers the onset of a huge shit fit.

  I place her car seat on the kitchen counter, and Leighton goes to work on unfastening the buckles.

  “Whoa, little lady. Calm yourself. I’m getting you out of there as fast as I can.”

  Scarlett screams and turns blood red, and all I can think about is how glad I am that Leighton is here. I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with my own daughter. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She always has a come-apart when she’s dirty.”

  I’m her father, but I know so little about Scarlett. Leighton is the one who knows my daughter. Her behaviors. Her habits. What she wants. What she needs.

  She knows things the way a mother knows things.

  “You’re very good with her.” She deciphers all of these things that Scarlett isn’t able to tell us. It’s amazing.

  “I hope that I’m good with her since that’s why you hired me.”

  “I think that you’ll make an excellent mother.” I truly believe that.

  Leighton smiles, but something about it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe one day.”

  “You plan on having children?”

  She breathes in deeply and exhales slowly. “I’d like to . . . if I could find a husband who didn’t lie and cheat on me behind my back like the last one.”

  The last one? “You’ve been married?”

  “Unfortunately.” Leighton brings Scarlett to her shoulder and rubs her hand in a circular motion over her back. “I was almost five months pregnant when I found out that he was cheating. I lost the baby a week later. She was stillborn.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Her name was Sadie. And I still mourn losing her, but I’ve come to accept that she wasn’t intended to live here with me. It brings me comfort to believe that I’ll be with her one day . . . so that’s what I choose to believe.”

  I don’t have a clue about how I should reply, but Leighton saves me when she crinkles her nose and says, “I know a little girl who needs her diaper changed right now.”

  Leighton leaves the kitchen, but not my mind.

  I can’t believe she was married. And had a daughter who died. That is completely unexpected. And it proves that I don’t know this woman at all.

  But I want to.

  Chapter Six

  Leighton Mitchell

  IT’S ONLY BEEN A FEW days, but I’m settling into my role as Scarlett’s nanny. She and I are establishing a routine. She demands a bottle at six, which means I have to hit the treadmill by four-thirty if I’m to get in my hour-long run and shower before she wakes.

  I don’t mind. I’m used to getting up early anyway. I’d feel like a bum if I slept late.

  I’m thirty minutes into my run when Judd comes into the gym. And shit, he’s shirtless. Not that I’ve never seen his exposed chest and stomach, but this is different. His chiseled chest and sculpted stomach and broad back and bulging biceps are minus the button-down shirt he always wore to the nursery for skin-to-skin with Scarlett.

  Dammit. I may be salivating a little.

  Judd mouths something I don’t understand so I remove my earbuds and slow the speed of the treadmill to a brisk walk. “I’m sorry. What was that?”

  “I said that I wasn’t expecting to see you in here so early.”

  And I definitely wasn’t expecting to be seen . . . especially looking like this. But I guess it’s inevitable that Judd would see me at my worst at some point, considering that we live under the same roof.

  “I have to get in my run before you-know-who wakes up for her morning bottle.”

  “You’d better, or you’ll suffer the princess’s wrath.”

  Judd isn’t wrong. That tiny little girl can throw one hell of a tantrum. I should have nicknamed her Miss cranky pants. “I know that’s right. Did she get that terrible temper from you?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Why are you in the gym so early?”

  I never see hide nor hair of Judd before eight. I think he stays up late working on new music. Several times, I’ve heard him playing his guitar and singing well after midnight.

  “Scarlett’s arrival has thrown a wrench into my routine. I typically work late and sleep late, but I’m trying to adjust to her schedule so I can spend more time with her.” He touches his abdomen. “Plus, it’s time I get back into my usual workout regimen. I’m getting a little soft around the middle.”

  “I doubt that.” There’s not an inch of soft anywhere on Judd Mathews. The man’s body is as chiseled as Michelangelo’s marble statue of David. Although I strongly suspect better endowed, judging by the bulge I’ve noticed in his jeans.

  There. I admit it. I’ve looked at that bulge. More than once.

  “Okay, I’m done bothering you.”

  “You’re not bothering me.” I enjoy talking to Judd. Probably more than I should.

  “I usually turn on some music while I’m working out. Do you mind?”

  “This is your gym. Your house. You get to do whatever pleases you in your home.”

  “This is your home now too.”

  This is your home now too. Those words make it sound like Judd means for me to stick around a while.

  Does he? We’ve never had that conversation—the one about the duration of my employment. It’s not like Scarlett will be a growing preemie forever. This job has an expiration date.

  Judd thumbs the screen on his phone and “Mama Tried” begins to play through the speakers mounted around the gym. “Can you run to Merle Haggard, or do you need something more upbeat?”

  “I could run to Mozart.”

  He goes to the elliptical. I strongly suspect he does so because I’m using his first choice. “Do you need the treadmill?”

  I know that a lot of guys like to do a short but fast run to increase their heart rates before lifting.

  “Nope. You’re fine right where you are. I can get the same cardio kick start on the elliptical.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve been on here for a while. I don’t mind getting off of it.”

  “I’m positive, Leighton.” I love hearing him say my name. “It’s not a big deal. Promise.”

  Judd moves to the weight bench when he finishes on the elliptical, and I’m happy that he’s lying on his back. I can watch him without being caught.

  Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. God, I love watching the taut muscles in his arms, chest, and abdomen bulge every time he lifts and lowers the weights.

  Judd Mathews is so damn sexy.

  But he is my boss.

  And a mega-superstar.

  He’s totally out of my league, and I have no business watching him or lusting over his hotness.

  I finish my run and turn off the treadmill, taking a big drink of cold water and wiping my face with a towel.

  “Finished?”

  “Yeah. Scarlett will be awake soon, so I need to jump in the shower.”

  “Before you go . . . my mom’s birthday is this weekend. I was planning to go into town today to get her present. I wouldn’t mind some help picking out a gift. And I could show you around Mason.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I would love to, but Scarlett’s immune system is still weak. She’s three months old, but it still isn’t a good idea to take her out into a large crowded area like the mall.”

  “What about keeping it low-key? We could shop at one of the small boutiques?”

  There would probably be only a handful of people in a small shop. “I think that would be okay. Any ideas about what you want to get for her?”

  “None.”

  I don’t know Diane Mathews extremely well, but I know that she’s crazy about her new granddaughter. “What about a grandmother’s birthstone necklace or bracelet? Maybe a piece she can add to as she has more grandchildren.”

  “She’s not getting any more grandchildren.” Judd isn�
��t smiling at all. He’s serious.

  “Well, maybe not from you, but your sister will probably have babies one day.”

  He shakes his head. “She and her husband don’t want children. They’re happy without them.”

  “I’m surprised to hear that.” And a little disappointed. Sally Kate is so good with Scarlett.

  “It’s not that she doesn’t like children. She just doesn’t have a desire to have any of her own and neither does her husband. They prefer to travel and have fun with their friends rather than take care of kids.”

  I understand that there are plenty of people in this world who don’t wish to ever have children, and that’s fine for them, but that’s not for me. I can’t imagine going through life without trying for another child. But I want a husband first. A committed husband.

  I don’t want to go through that alone. Again.

  Being a wife. Being a mother. That’s what I want more than anything in the world.

  It’s still hard to swallow . . . that I was living my dream, or so I thought, and both slipped from my grasp within the same week.

  But enough of that. Back to the birthday gift for Diane Mathews. “Do you want to get her something expensive or thoughtful?”

  “Thoughtful. My mom is not impressed by expensive gifts.”

  I’m with her on that. Not my thing either. “Okay. Let me think about it, and hopefully I’ll have something cooked up for you before we go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Judd Mathews

  SCARLETT IS STRAPPED ACROSS THE front of Leighton’s body inside one of those baby-carrying papoose things. She chose to use it over the stroller to prevent strangers from getting too close to Scarlett. She said that the carrier would act as a barrier when we come in contact with people carrying any potential illnesses.

  I watch the way Leighton carries Scarlett against her chest, and her protective nature amazes me. Scarlett’s health and safety are always at the top of her priorities. She treats her as though she’s her own child. Hiring Leighton as my daughter’s nanny . . . best decision I ever made.

  An aging gray-haired woman is standing behind the counter and waiting to greet us when we enter the shop. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

  “I hope so.” I place the aged photos and faded first-place ribbons on the counter. “I’d like to see about having these mounted and framed.”

  “Maybe in a shadow box if you think that would look good,” Leighton adds.

  The woman looks at the items. “I think these would be lovely in a shadow box.”

  “It’s a birthday gift for my mother, and I need it by Friday. Is that possible?”

  The woman looks over at a calendar hanging on the wall. “I can have it ready for you Friday morning unless you choose a special-order item.”

  “We’ll definitely choose something in stock then.”

  We follow the woman to the selection of boxes hanging on the wall. There must be at least twenty to choose from.

  I look at Leighton. “I have no idea. What do you think?”

  She picks up a box with a dark-stained frame. “This is my favorite because of the rich brown. It matches the coat on your mom’s horse in the photo.”

  I see what she means. “You’re right. That’s the one.”

  The saleswoman looks at Scarlett in the carrier and takes the frame from Leighton. “Let me get that for you, hon.”

  We return to the counter, and she begins to fill out an order sheet. “What color matte would you like?”

  I point at Leighton. “Ask her. She’s the one making these decisions.”

  Scarlett whimpers, and Leighton shifts her weight back and forth from one foot to the other in a rocking motion. “Shh . . . it’s okay, baby girl.”

  The old lady tries to peek over the counter into the carrier, but I doubt that she’s successful at seeing much. “How old?”

  Leighton pulls the sling away from Scarlett’s face for the lady to see her, but maintains a safe distance. “Three months, but she’s small for her age because she was a preemie.”

  “I was thinking that you didn’t look like you’d had a baby recently.”

  She shakes her head. “Oh, I’m not—”

  “Leighton, what color should the matte be?”

  I’m not sure why I interrupt and stop Leighton from telling the woman that Scarlett isn’t hers. Maybe I want to save her the pain of saying the words because she is a mother who has lost a daughter.

  Or maybe I just like the woman’s assumption that we are a happy little family.

  Leighton picks up the ribbons and holds them over the box. “Double matted in royal blue and off-white?”

  I nod. “Sounds like a winner to me.”

  Scarlett whimpers again. “I’m going to walk around the store while you check out.”

  “Sure.”

  I take out my credit card while the woman fills out the rest of the order slip. I laugh inside because this old lady has no idea who I am and still won’t when she sees the name on the card.

  “You have a beautiful wife. Is that the only child that you have?”

  I hesitate, trying to decide if I’ll correct the misunderstanding or let her continue to believe the misconception. “Just the one.”

  “A bit of advice from an old woman . . . don’t wait too long to have another. We had two that were fourteen months apart and then my husband and I waited four years before we had the next one. It’s easier raising them together when they’re closer in age. They play better together. Anything more than two or three years is too far apart.”

  I give the old woman a wink. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

  ***

  Leighton is in the backseat with Scarlett on the drive back to the ranch. I’m guilty again of stealing quick glances in the rearview mirror. Except this time, Leighton catches me. “What is it?”

  “Just thinking about the lady in the frame shop and something that she said.”

  “Oh . . . about Scarlett being mine?”

  “Did that bother you?”

  “No.”

  I wait a moment to see if she’ll mention my interruption, but she doesn’t.

  “She also thought that we were married.”

  Leighton laughs. “What did she say when you told her that I was the nanny and not the wifey?”

  I keep my eyes on the road without looking back at Leighton. “I didn’t correct her.”

  “Oh.”

  The few times that I’ve tried to explain, people have looked at me like I’m some kind of an asshole for hiring a beautiful nanny to replace Scarlett’s deceased mother. I don’t like the judgment I see in their eyes.

  “It was easier to let her be mistaken rather than explain.”

  Leighton doesn’t reply.

  “Does it bother you that I allowed her to believe that you’re my wife and Scarlett’s mother?”

  I glance at the mirror and see her suppressing a smile. “I don’t mind.”

  “Thank you for coming up with the shadow box idea for my mom. It’s going to look great. She’s going to love it.”

  “I think it’s going to look great too, but I can’t take all of the credit. You’re the one who came up with putting her barrel-racing memorabilia in it.”

  “Well, you’re the one who suggested a keepsake. And this one is extra special because that’s how my mom and dad met.”

  “At a barrel race?”

  “Yeah. My dad came to watch his sister race. She and my mom were competing in the same age category. Dad saw her and fell head over heels for the girl who won the blue ribbon.”

  “Your mom was a beautiful girl. Still is. I can see why he would fall for her.”

  “Both were still teenagers when they got married. Eighteen and nineteen.” I was doing other things at that age. Love and marriage weren’t anywhere on my radar. Still aren’t.

  “They were kids, and they managed to make it last. That’s pretty amazing. I was an adult when I got married and couldn’t m
ake it work.”

  Leighton is a lovely person, inside and out. I’m certain that she wasn’t the problem in that marriage. “It isn’t possible to make it work when one of you is a cheating asshole.”

  Scarlett fusses and Leighton leans over her, speaking in her special baby voice. “No truer words have ever been spoken. No, they haven’t, have they, baby girl?”

  I’ve not known Leighton for long, but from what I’ve seen, she checks every box for what a man would want in a wife. Intelligent. Fun. Kind. Interesting. Gorgeous. Sexy as fuck. I can’t imagine what in the hell that man was thinking when he decided that he was going to cheat on her.

  His loss.

  My gain.

  My gain? The notion pops into my head without any thought at all. Like it’s been there all along, waiting to jump to the front of my brain at the first opportunity.

  And now it has.

  Chapter Eight

  Leighton Mitchell

  SCARLETT AND I ARE SITTING on the living room couch. It’s approaching noon, and she’s just taken her midday bottle. Miss prissy pants will be knocked out for her nap at any minute. And as much as I adore her, I look forward to this me time each day.

  I hear the sound of Judd’s guitar carrying from his studio on the other side of the house. He’s left the door open again. It’s been a month, and he still forgets that we’re here. But it’s fine. Scarlett is soothed by the sound of her daddy’s music.

  Judd is taking advantage of this time off of the road to write again. I obviously don’t know how he is when he’s on the road, but being here working in his studio seems to make him happy.

  Scarlett dozes off, and I take her to her crib. I already know that I have ninety-five minutes to myself until she’s up again. One good thing about Miss prissy pants and me . . . we have our daily routines down pat.

  There’s a new sound coming from Judd’s studio—a piano—and I’m drawn to it. I’m dying to know if it’s him playing it or if I’m hearing a recording.

  I stop inside the studio door and admire the way that Judd looks sitting at the black grand piano: his taut T-shirt straining over his powerful chest and back, his muscular arms outstretched, his big hands moving over the keys. I see this man every day, and I swear to God that I think he gets better looking by the day.