Junkyard Dog(14)

“Well, that was before you started moping around the office.”

“How can I homeschool when I’m working? Also, how in the hell does someone homeschool?”

“I don’t know. Google it.”

“You’re not making me feel better.”

“I wasn’t trying,” he says, smirking. “I could hug you, but I can’t imagine that would do anything except get you moist.”

“You’re in a weird mood today.”

“Not really. I have been thinking, though.”

“About what?” I ask, walking into the mini-kitchen to get myself a cup of coffee.

“I want to trust you with more responsibilities.”

“Okay, but these new responsibilities aren’t gross, are they?” I ask, thinking about his heir offer.

“No, but they involve me trusting you. Can I? You’re not bailing on this job if I don’t baby you during your next period, are you?”

“I’m on my period now, and I don’t want you babying me,” I lie while returning to my desk. “Staying away from me would be helpful, though.”

“No alone time today, babe. In fact, don’t waste time logging in. We’re running errands today.”

I study him and find my smile. He’s in a good mood and the damn thing’s infectious.

Once outside, Hayes helps me climb into his giant truck by grabbing my ass and pushing up. I grunt at his version of chivalry. At least, I was smart enough to wear jeans today, so his hand doesn’t encounter a warm greeting from the spot between my legs.

“Where are we going?” I ask as soon as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“My father has caregivers who handle him and his house, but I need you to check up on them. You need to make sure they’re keeping the place clean, feeding his cat, and giving him meds and food.”

“Are you overly cautious or is there something you’re specifically concerned about?”

“Overly cautious,” he says, honking at a car full of senior citizens. “Balthazar has a full-time caregiver named Lizzy Anne. There’s also a nurse who visits once a week to make sure he’s getting his meds. The setup is solid, but I don’t trust anyone.”

When I smile at him, Hayes’s expression shifts into a grumpy frown. He knows I think he’s a big softie.

“Don’t,” he warns.

“You love your daddy,” I tease.

“Didn’t you?”

“No. He didn’t stick around long enough. When I last saw him, I was living at the Eddison Estate. He showed up wanting money for his girlfriend’s kid’s braces. I called him by the wrong name and shut the door. He hasn’t bothered me since.”

Hayes nods, remaining silent for a few minutes. “Do you like men?”

“Sexually? Yeah.”

“No, I mean, do you think they’re all f*cking scum?”

“Of course not. My son is a little man after all. I adored my brother Peat. So I like men just fine. Why?”

“Didn’t know if you were the bitter sort.”

“Is this because I haven’t batted my eyes at you today?”

“I’ll be happy if you avoid f*cking crying.”

Grinning, I check my phone. “Your low standards allow me to excel.”

“I think you’d do fine if I expected more.”

I focus on him and grin. “You complimented me! Were you drugged this morning? Why are you such a sweetie pie today?”

“I’m ignoring you now.”

“Did it hurt?” I ask.

“What?”

“When you fell from heaven?” I ask, barely keeping a straight face. “You’re a damn angel; I tell ya!”

“I’m seriously f*cking considering firing you.”

I pat his arm reassuringly, causing him to glance at me as if I’ve harmed him in some way.

“What?”

Hayes shakes his head, still looking freaked out. I study my fingers and wonder what unknown powers they possess.

We arrive at a blue, craftsman style home on the east side of White Horse. The small lawn is immaculate, and the house looks recently painted.

I climb down from the massive truck and walk to the front porch where a rocking bench rests.

“Here are they keys,” Hayes says, handing them to me. “I’ll email you the security code later.”

“What’s your dad’s name again?”

“Balthazar.”

“Your name makes a lot more sense.”

“Shut up, Candy.”

“You’re so childish,” I tease while following him into the house.

Hayes wants to say something mean, but he keeps his mouth shut and walks down a narrow hallway to a back family room. I’m so busy wondering if he’ll whack his head on the ceiling that I don’t notice the bald old man sleeping in a wide La-Z-Boy chair.

Hayes walks into the adjoining kitchen and ducks to avoid a beam. I hear the caretaker going over Balthazar’s day. The old man ate eggs and oatmeal for breakfast, walked around the yard, and then took his nap in the front of the TV. Hayes looms large over the short, round woman who glances at me.

“My assistant will come by when I can’t,” Hayes says quietly, but his voice remains loud enough to wake Balthazar.