What I wouldn’t give for just one more day…
But Tara had given him up without a second thought, as though she left him without a care in the world.
How could she do that?
“I’m sorry,” I apologized.
What else was there to say?
I mean, I didn’t know this man well enough to say anything else without it sounding half-hearted at best.
Of course, I knew of him. I knew that he was an ex-football player, though many in this town didn’t since he’d grown a beard and had joined a motorcycle club—something you’d never expect a famous ex-football player to do.
But again, nobody followed his career like I did—compulsively.
“The reason I asked if it was all that you do was because you know who I am,” he looked at me like he knew what I’d been thinking. “And you know Matias’ situation. I…I need help watching him on the days that I have to work.”
I gave him a look that clearly said exactly what I was thinking.
If anybody could afford to watch their kid all day and not work, it was him.
“Matias doesn’t want me to quit,” he answered my unspoken question. “That was what I was going to do, but he asked me not to.”
I pursed my lips. “And there are those times that I’m called out on the volunteer fire department.”
“You’re on the fire department?” I asked in surprise.
Rome smiled slightly. “Volunteer. Yeah. As of two months ago. I got my peace officer’s license when I started working in the prison. Some of the other guys are on it, too. You’re lucky I haven’t gotten on the bomb squad…yet.”
I wasn’t touching that comment with a ten-foot pole. Maybe if I didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t happen.
“Most people, when they’re bored, don’t do dangerous things,” I pointed out. “At least not that dangerous.”
I felt a flutter of panic hit my chest at the thought of that perfect body of his being burned during a fire he volunteered to help put out.
Then I immediately cut that thought off at the knees.
I would not care what happened to him. I would not care what happened to him.
Caring led to liking…and I didn’t like people.
At least not anymore.
But…a certain little boy had slipped under my defenses, and there was no way in hell that I’d tell him no.
Especially when he’d asked.
“What days?” I asked carefully.
Rome swallowed. “You tell me what days you can watch him, and I’ll have my schedule worked around yours.”
I looked at my watch. I had an hour to finish up the living room and get to the next job—which I sure as hell couldn’t be late for.
“I can do Mondays, Wednesdays, every other Friday, and Sundays,” I said, sounding snippy.
Rome looked like he was defeated.
“That’ll work. I’m going to go part-time, so in all honesty, I should only need you two to three days…as long as there isn’t an emergency,” he explained. “And I have a friend who’ll watch him, too. It shouldn’t be too bad…and if you want, just charge me your cleaning rate, and I’ll pay you at the end of the week. Is that okay?”
I looked at him. “My cleaning rate is twenty-nine dollars an hour. I’m not going to charge you that much to sit on my butt and watch your cute kid.”
Rome snorted. “I don’t care what I have to pay. Matias has talked about you on and off since you started cleaning for Tara. I only realized who, exactly, he was talking about just last night.”
I felt something warm slide through my chest again.
“Do you want me to start this Friday or wait?” I questioned as I started down the stairs.
He followed behind me, his silent steps like a hunting cat’s as he ghosted quietly down the stairs. In comparison, I sounded like a herd of buffalo running from that hunting cat.
“Not tomorrow, no,” he said. “I have a few days off still. I’ll get the new schedule set up on Monday after I talk to my boss.”
“That won’t be a problem?” I inquired.
I was practically my own boss, and even I didn’t make changes like that to my schedule without first consulting a few people.
“My boss is the warden of the prison.” He paused. “And he’s also the Bear Bottoms MC president. I’m fairly sure Bayou won’t care.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that. I knew who Bayou was. I also saw him every Wednesday during visiting hours—though he likely didn’t know who I was. But everyone knew Bayou—it was hard not to know who Bayou was.
He was a very distinctive man.
Big, burly, hard inside and out, and he had curly brown hair that didn’t detract from his scariness in the least. He wasn’t huge or anything, just a little over six foot two or three, but he had this air about him that clearly said ‘don’t fuck with me.’ And no one did.
I guess he’d have to be that way if he was a prison warden—a prison that housed some of the worst criminals in Texas.
The man in front of me trumped Bayou in size, but when you put the two side-by-side, I could still see the goodness in Rome. But Bayou? Well, I wasn’t sure he even had a soul.
I honestly didn’t think he’d give Rome a break on his schedule. He didn’t seem like a nice man at all.
But I didn’t want to get into that subject with him, because if I did, then he’d ask why I knew Bayou as well as I knew him, and then I’d have to tell him other stuff…and, well, that was a vicious cycle I didn’t want to start with him.
It was better just to leave it be and hope that he never broached the subject with me.
I honestly liked that little boy, and I liked this job. I’d rather not lose it.
If my parents knew that I still visited that prison every week… I shuddered internally at the thought of what I’d lose.
And I didn’t just mean my job, but my family and my heart all at the same time.
“Anyway, I should be able to get it all worked out on Monday. If any of it changes, though, I’ll call you…if you give me your number, that is.” Rome’s eyes were on me, and he was making me feel like I was a deer in his headlights.
I felt those eyes of his piercing right through me.
I walked over to my purse and pulled out a business card. Grabbing a pen next, I scratched out the number—which was my mom’s because God forbid if every single booking didn’t go through her first—and wrote my cell phone number down.
Handing it to him, I dropped the pen back in my purse.
“If those numbers are bad, you should get new cards,” he commented.
I shrugged. “They’re business cards, and they go to the business phones—which are my mother’s. Plus, I don’t see the point in giving people my direct number since I don’t know from one day to the next what my schedule will be.”
His brows rose. “Then how are you…”
I waved him off. “I’ll fix it. Don’t worry,” I hesitated. “I’ll come here, but you can’t expect me to drive him anywhere.”
His brows rose at that. “I’ll be taking him to his appointments. Other than that, he can’t go anywhere anyway because of his immune system. Which brings me to the next point, if you’re sick…you’re going to have to let me know so I can find other accommodations. I can’t have him being around that.”
I nodded. “What about if I’m around someone sick?”
He shrugged. “Do the best you can. If you think you’ve been exposed to something or you’re starting to feel off yourself, then call and let me know. I’m not God, though. We can only do the best we can.”
That was true enough.
“Alright,” I said as I picked up the spray bottle as I turned to tackle the windows in the living room. “Sounds good.”
With that, I went back to work, and when I left later that afternoon, walking down the street with my big bag of cleaning supplies over my shoulder, I had the distinct feeling that I had no clue what I was getting myself into.
***
RP’s Biggest Fan,
But Tara had given him up without a second thought, as though she left him without a care in the world.
How could she do that?
“I’m sorry,” I apologized.
What else was there to say?
I mean, I didn’t know this man well enough to say anything else without it sounding half-hearted at best.
Of course, I knew of him. I knew that he was an ex-football player, though many in this town didn’t since he’d grown a beard and had joined a motorcycle club—something you’d never expect a famous ex-football player to do.
But again, nobody followed his career like I did—compulsively.
“The reason I asked if it was all that you do was because you know who I am,” he looked at me like he knew what I’d been thinking. “And you know Matias’ situation. I…I need help watching him on the days that I have to work.”
I gave him a look that clearly said exactly what I was thinking.
If anybody could afford to watch their kid all day and not work, it was him.
“Matias doesn’t want me to quit,” he answered my unspoken question. “That was what I was going to do, but he asked me not to.”
I pursed my lips. “And there are those times that I’m called out on the volunteer fire department.”
“You’re on the fire department?” I asked in surprise.
Rome smiled slightly. “Volunteer. Yeah. As of two months ago. I got my peace officer’s license when I started working in the prison. Some of the other guys are on it, too. You’re lucky I haven’t gotten on the bomb squad…yet.”
I wasn’t touching that comment with a ten-foot pole. Maybe if I didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t happen.
“Most people, when they’re bored, don’t do dangerous things,” I pointed out. “At least not that dangerous.”
I felt a flutter of panic hit my chest at the thought of that perfect body of his being burned during a fire he volunteered to help put out.
Then I immediately cut that thought off at the knees.
I would not care what happened to him. I would not care what happened to him.
Caring led to liking…and I didn’t like people.
At least not anymore.
But…a certain little boy had slipped under my defenses, and there was no way in hell that I’d tell him no.
Especially when he’d asked.
“What days?” I asked carefully.
Rome swallowed. “You tell me what days you can watch him, and I’ll have my schedule worked around yours.”
I looked at my watch. I had an hour to finish up the living room and get to the next job—which I sure as hell couldn’t be late for.
“I can do Mondays, Wednesdays, every other Friday, and Sundays,” I said, sounding snippy.
Rome looked like he was defeated.
“That’ll work. I’m going to go part-time, so in all honesty, I should only need you two to three days…as long as there isn’t an emergency,” he explained. “And I have a friend who’ll watch him, too. It shouldn’t be too bad…and if you want, just charge me your cleaning rate, and I’ll pay you at the end of the week. Is that okay?”
I looked at him. “My cleaning rate is twenty-nine dollars an hour. I’m not going to charge you that much to sit on my butt and watch your cute kid.”
Rome snorted. “I don’t care what I have to pay. Matias has talked about you on and off since you started cleaning for Tara. I only realized who, exactly, he was talking about just last night.”
I felt something warm slide through my chest again.
“Do you want me to start this Friday or wait?” I questioned as I started down the stairs.
He followed behind me, his silent steps like a hunting cat’s as he ghosted quietly down the stairs. In comparison, I sounded like a herd of buffalo running from that hunting cat.
“Not tomorrow, no,” he said. “I have a few days off still. I’ll get the new schedule set up on Monday after I talk to my boss.”
“That won’t be a problem?” I inquired.
I was practically my own boss, and even I didn’t make changes like that to my schedule without first consulting a few people.
“My boss is the warden of the prison.” He paused. “And he’s also the Bear Bottoms MC president. I’m fairly sure Bayou won’t care.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that. I knew who Bayou was. I also saw him every Wednesday during visiting hours—though he likely didn’t know who I was. But everyone knew Bayou—it was hard not to know who Bayou was.
He was a very distinctive man.
Big, burly, hard inside and out, and he had curly brown hair that didn’t detract from his scariness in the least. He wasn’t huge or anything, just a little over six foot two or three, but he had this air about him that clearly said ‘don’t fuck with me.’ And no one did.
I guess he’d have to be that way if he was a prison warden—a prison that housed some of the worst criminals in Texas.
The man in front of me trumped Bayou in size, but when you put the two side-by-side, I could still see the goodness in Rome. But Bayou? Well, I wasn’t sure he even had a soul.
I honestly didn’t think he’d give Rome a break on his schedule. He didn’t seem like a nice man at all.
But I didn’t want to get into that subject with him, because if I did, then he’d ask why I knew Bayou as well as I knew him, and then I’d have to tell him other stuff…and, well, that was a vicious cycle I didn’t want to start with him.
It was better just to leave it be and hope that he never broached the subject with me.
I honestly liked that little boy, and I liked this job. I’d rather not lose it.
If my parents knew that I still visited that prison every week… I shuddered internally at the thought of what I’d lose.
And I didn’t just mean my job, but my family and my heart all at the same time.
“Anyway, I should be able to get it all worked out on Monday. If any of it changes, though, I’ll call you…if you give me your number, that is.” Rome’s eyes were on me, and he was making me feel like I was a deer in his headlights.
I felt those eyes of his piercing right through me.
I walked over to my purse and pulled out a business card. Grabbing a pen next, I scratched out the number—which was my mom’s because God forbid if every single booking didn’t go through her first—and wrote my cell phone number down.
Handing it to him, I dropped the pen back in my purse.
“If those numbers are bad, you should get new cards,” he commented.
I shrugged. “They’re business cards, and they go to the business phones—which are my mother’s. Plus, I don’t see the point in giving people my direct number since I don’t know from one day to the next what my schedule will be.”
His brows rose. “Then how are you…”
I waved him off. “I’ll fix it. Don’t worry,” I hesitated. “I’ll come here, but you can’t expect me to drive him anywhere.”
His brows rose at that. “I’ll be taking him to his appointments. Other than that, he can’t go anywhere anyway because of his immune system. Which brings me to the next point, if you’re sick…you’re going to have to let me know so I can find other accommodations. I can’t have him being around that.”
I nodded. “What about if I’m around someone sick?”
He shrugged. “Do the best you can. If you think you’ve been exposed to something or you’re starting to feel off yourself, then call and let me know. I’m not God, though. We can only do the best we can.”
That was true enough.
“Alright,” I said as I picked up the spray bottle as I turned to tackle the windows in the living room. “Sounds good.”
With that, I went back to work, and when I left later that afternoon, walking down the street with my big bag of cleaning supplies over my shoulder, I had the distinct feeling that I had no clue what I was getting myself into.
***
RP’s Biggest Fan,
