More Than I Could (14)

It’s not you that I don’t trust, sweetheart.

My chest rises and falls with more force than necessary as I watch her hand clench the bend of her hip. Her anger should make me feel embarrassed for my behavior, maybe. Or guilt-ridden for making this whole thing a big deal. I should probably feel like a dick for being one.

The only way her confidence makes me feel is … damn.

“I trusted you—on a backroad at dusk, no less,” she says. “And now you have trust issues? That’s rich.”

I narrow my eyes at her, hoping she’ll back down. She doesn’t. She doesn’t even flinch.

“You trusted me because you needed me,” I say, irritated that she’s making this more complicated than it needs to be. “I can be more discerning. I don’t need you.”

“Yes, you do, Chase,” Mom says with exasperation.

I slide my gaze to hers. “Please let me handle this.”

“I’ll do no such thing.” Mom gets to her feet, the pink sequins on her shirt catching the sunlight and almost blinding me. “Megan is the daughter of one of my very best friends, and I trust her implicitly. I—”

“Well, that’s great,” I say. My blood pressure rises at Mom’s assumption that my opinion doesn’t matter—and the fact that I’m grasping for control. Probably mostly the latter. “But I don’t know her. I don’t know anything about her. Maybe I don’t want—”

“Okay, hold on a second,” Megan says. The fire in her eyes burns a straight line to my cock. “First, I’m standing here, so please don’t talk about me like I’m not. Second, I don’t need you either. And after listening to your rant, I’m not sure I want to work for someone with such a ...”

“A what? Go on. Finish it.”

She narrows her eyes. “A bad attitude.”

“I don’t have a bad attitude,” I fire back.

Mom sighs. “Yes, you do.”

“Mom, please …”

Megan bites her bottom lip. Sometimes people do that when they’re thinking. Megan’s thinking all right—she thinks she’ll get me to crack. To give in. To backtrack and apologize.

Not happening.

“Okay, let’s look at it like this,” I say, approaching the problem from another angle. “How am I supposed to trust a woman with my child who thought a hairbrush was an acceptable weapon?”

“It was all I had.”

“You were unprepared.”

She huffs. “Hardly. I was resourceful.”

I roll my eyes.

“Fine. Let’s look at it like this,” she says, her voice growing cocky as she throws my language back at me. “Why should I trust a man who threatened to leave me sitting in the middle of a darkened cornfield?”

Mom gasps. “You better not have.”

Megan’s lips purse together. “Maybe I need to rethink this commitment.”

“I didn’t threaten to leave you. I told you I’d leave you to your own devices because you thought I would do something bad to you. There are two reasons for that—one of them being trust issues,” I say, smirking. “You didn’t automatically trust me either, sweetheart. Hell, you barely trusted yourself.”

Megan narrows her eyes. I give her a smug grin that only irritates her more. And that only makes her hotter, which is a problem I can’t remedy—a problem I’m not willing to extend over a month. I’m not Luke. I’m not a glutton for punishment with no responsibilities and lots of time on my hands.

“I could barely trust myself? Are you projecting, Chase, dear?” Megan asks. The pulse of her jaw negates the sweetness in her voice.

“I—”

“I think you two are getting off topic,” Mom says.

“This is Megan’s comfort zone,” I say, my eyes not leaving the nanny’s. “She lets Chris lead her astray all the time.”

She grins. “Oh, are you jealous of Chris? Is that what this is?”

“Chris doesn’t know jack shit.”

“Chris is practically a superhero, thank you very much.”

I scoff.

“Will you two please stop it?” Mom says with a giant sigh. “You’re fighting like an old married couple.”

Megan gives me a final glare before turning to my mom. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”

“No apologies needed,” Mom says, patting Megan’s shoulder as she walks by. “I know this situation is stressful for all of us. Right, Chase?”

I look at the ceiling and sigh.

Mom has made her point, and she knows it. None of us wants to be here, in the position of needing someone to stay with Kennedy. Not me, not Kennedy, not Mom, and apparently not Megan. Yet here we are.

If I ask Gavin and Luke to help with my daughter, Mom will stay home. She loves my brothers, but she also knows her sons would let Kennedy get away with much more than she deserves. Mom would cancel her vacation with my sister, and she needs to see Kate. And Kate needs her. It’s been too long.

Mom hasn’t had a real getaway since Child Protective Services called ten years ago to tell me I was a single dad.

Shit.

I look at Megan, my resolve waning. “Did you call the rental company about your car this morning?”