“How about tomorrow?” I ground out. Oh fuck, so much for being smooth, the man in charge. I was more like an adolescent boy, panting, no, begging for attention.
And the girl laughed throatily then.
“Sure Mr. Parker, would love to. Eight okay?” she murmured. I found her shyness adorable after what we’d just done in the bathroom, this girl had so many facets to her personality, so many amazing sides to be discovered. “I’ll come by and put Vi to sleep and then we can, we can …” her voice trailed off.
I grinned internally. So the girl wasn’t exactly the vixen she made herself out to be, she was still an eighteen year-old naïf, unable to say the words. But no worries, I’d teach her to say the dirty words, to say all the dirty words and love them, her mouth spewing filth only for my ears.
“That works,” I rumbled. “Another cup of tea?”
And the girl looked down at the empty mug.
“I drank all that?” she murmured quizzically. “I really do drink a lot of tea, but no thanks,” she said throwing me another dazzling smile. “It’s almost ten and I better get back, otherwise my parents are gonna call the cops.”
I grunted then. Trish and Jim absolutely should be calling the cops with what happened upstairs tonight, and the sexy things I planned on doing to their daughter tomorrow. But for now, there was a pause, a much-needed intermission until our next session. Because Mandy was smart, that much was obvious. The brunette had a good head on her shoulders and I wanted her to be ready for what was coming next, to have some time to think things through. Because once I started … there would be no going back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mandy
“Mom, Dad,” I called from the foyer, purse already slung over my shoulder. “I’m headed over to Mr. Parker’s place.”
My mom tottered over with an apron still on, patting her hands dry on the floral print. Oh Trish. She was cute, looking more like Mrs. Claus each year, and had insisted on spending the entire evening baking batch after batch of Christmas cookies. How in the world we were going to eat all those cookies, I had no idea, but it’d been fun helping her, icing dozens of reindeer, trees and candy canes, making idle chit chat as we worked.
“Again?” she asked plaintively. “I thought Pete Parker had a number of girls who sat for his daughter.”
I frowned slightly. What? That was the first I’d heard of a potential stable of women going by the Parker place. But I just shrugged on the outside, expression smooth.
“Maybe, but maybe they’re visiting their families for the holidays. It is December,” I said pointedly.
And my mom sighed again.
“You’re so nice honey,” she said. “Such a good heart, taking time from your vacation to help a single dad, and going over there last minute too. How is that little girl doing, by the way? Does Miss Violet miss her mom? Poor thing.”
And here I could tell the truth.
“I’m not sure,” I said, biting my lip, my concern evident. “I think she does, but Violet doesn’t say anything and I don’t ask. I just play with her a lot and cover her in hugs and kisses as much as possible.”
“Oh good,” said my mom, patting my arm. “I’m proud of you honey, taking care of a down-on-her-luck little girl like that, one with a missing mama. You have such a great maternal instinct, I hope you get it from me,” said my mom with a sweet smile. “Just like your mama,” she repeated again.
And I had to laugh then, even though the play on words wasn’t that funny. Because Trish was a good mom, no she was great, she’d given up her career as an executive secretary to stay home with us, and my brother and I had benefitted hugely from her presence, showering us with her love every minute of every day. My mom had baked countless birthday cakes, hand-sewn all sorts of Halloween costumes, and more than that, had been with us through the thick and thin, the daily tedium that makes up life. So I was grateful to Trish and only hoped I could be half as good when the time came.
“You’re an amazing mom, Mom,” I said, leaning in for a hug. “I’m so lucky to have you.”
And Trish was visibly tearing when I stepped back, blue eyes watery as she patted her nose.
“Oh you!” she exclaimed, waving a hand my way. “It’s just the holidays making me nostalgic, my baby girl is back in town again. I love you so much, Mandy. Now you better get on, that dear child is waiting.”
I gave Trish another quick hug again before getting into my car and pulling it onto the snowy street. But as I drove, the warm feeling of happiness, of utter belonging, melted a bit, turning into confusion. Because that was the thing. I did have a strong maternal instinct and it blasted to the fore when I was taking care of kids, whenever I was around Violet. On the one hand, I was pre-law at Evergreen, the pride and joy of my parents, slogging through rhetoric classes and all those things budding lawyers need to learn. But the thing is, it paled compared to when I was at home, feeling useful, doing things like helping my mom bake cookies and taking care of kids. Because what the hell was “rhetoric” anyways? Even though I’d just finished the class, for the life of me I still wasn’t sure. Instead, I’d regurgitated answers like a bird, spitting out whatever I thought the professor wanted to see on exams, with no deeper understanding of the world or what I was doing in school.