Give & Take (Redbeard Cove #2)

11. Raphael

Chapter 11

Raphael

W hile it’s my second week in this gig, it’s the first out of probation, and it feels like the tiny, slightly chilled, but oh so sexy ax that’s been hovering at the back of my neck has lifted. The weekend after Lana gave me what felt somehow like the best news of my life, Mac and Cal drove me around town to help me pick up a few things for my place. Everyone and their uncle apparently heard I’m moving into Lana’s suite, so the place is now overflowing with housewares, plants, and food. The local church even donated a desk and chair to work on. But the chair must have belonged to a sadistic monk (okay, choir lady, maybe—I know how churches work, I swear) because after writing in it all day Sunday I was so stiff I made myself wake up early to do laps in the ocean on Monday morning to get the kinks out before work.

The girls and I continue to settle into our rhythm with fun adventures in and out of town, including the Bean Scene, a coffee shop with extremely comfortable chairs where I set up shop in that same night, and a trip to the fish market in Swan River, where we played a game of ‘How much candy would it take to convince you to lick that fish’s scales?’ Aurora’s limit is shockingly low—two chocolate bars and ‘one of those marshmallow cookies Grandma makes’. Nova’s is ‘seventeen dump trucks of skittles’. I offer to lick one of the fish for free just to gross them out, but the fishmonger good-naturedly tells us it’s you lick, you buy.

On Thursday, Nova mentions something about Lana going out on Saturday night.

“Mom never goes out at night,” Aurora says.

We’re at the beach collecting sea glass—Aurora’s choice of activity—but she now looks worried. “Who’s gonna tuck us in?”

Suddenly I’m worried too. “Did she say what she was doing?” I ask casually.

Nova shrugs. “I don’t remember,” Nova says, already losing interest in the conversation. “Maybe Chris.” She frowns. “No wait, Chris said she’s going to some motorbike thing this weekend. Maybe Annie?”

“Annie?” Aurora asks, wringing her hands. “Who’s Annie?”

Nova reminds her that Annie is Mac’s sister and she’s super nice, she just flies around for her job a lot so Aurora doesn’t remember seeing much of her.

When Aurora’s lip starts to wobble, I pick her up, giving her a squeeze. “We’ll figure something out okay? You’re definitely going to get a great tuck-in.”

When Lana gets home and the girls get their requisite after-work TV time, I take my time putting my shoes on. Which is hard because they’re the kind of well-worn sneakers I only have to slip into.

“So,” I say. “Any plans this weekend?”

Lana’s unpacking her backpack, and she pauses to look over at me. She looks tired. Beautiful as always, but slightly weary. Her hair’s falling out of her loose bun, and her shoulders are stiff. Deanie used to make me rub her shoulders back in Vancouver, and I very much wish I could offer that to Lana without sounding weird. But I can’t, so I don’t.

Lana fiddles with the lid on her water bottle for a moment, then loads it neatly in the dishwasher. “Yes,” she says, pushing the rack back in. “I have a date, actually.”

I’m glad her back is to me as she pulls the door back up, because I’ve suddenly turned into a plank of wood. “Oh,” I say, my voice so falsely casual it’s laughable. “Right. The girls mentioned you were going out.”

She gives me a strange look, like why would I ask if I already knew. “They didn’t know about the date part,” I say, then cringe at myself. “Anyway listen, you don’t have to get a babysitter. I’m happy to look after them for you.”

Lana shakes her head. “That’s very kind of you. But you’re off the clock on the weekends.”

“It’s not a chore, Lana.” Looking after her kids doesn’t actually feel like a job at all. “I feel like I’m getting away with something because I get to have fun all day. The least I can do is help you out at night. Plus, it’s not like I live far from here.”

Lana’s lips lift just the tiniest bit before dropping again. I call that her ‘wants to smile but can’t quite crack the facade’ smile. Or almost-smile. “Surely you must have other plans.”

“I don’t.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. It’s so sexy I have to look away, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. Whoever this date is with, he better fucking notice all these little tells. Actually, fuck, no he better not.

I know she wants to say yes. It would be a relief to her to say yes. So I decide to remove her option to easily say no. “It’s set then,” I say, slipping into my shoes at last. “I’ll be here at what, seven?”

“Six,” she says. Before seeming to realize she’s agreed.

I give her a grin. “Six it is.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Bye girls!” I call as I reach for the door handle.

“Bye Raph!” they chorus without pulling their eyes from the TV.

“Bye Lana,” I say, giving her a wink. Just a friendly one, I swear. Sort of.

By Saturday, I’ve mostly chilled out. Enough to be in a pretty good mood as I knock on Lana’s door. I’ve restrained myself from asking for details, and so long as I don’t think too hard about it, I think I can be okay with this date thing.

There’s a thunder of footsteps, then the girls are at the door, calling my name. The last vestiges of my unease vanish as I’m greeted with hugs—well, Aurora’s, anyway. Nova gives me a return high-five and an almost-smile, which is just as good.

“Hey guys,” I say, setting Aurora down again and relaxing into the feeling of being in this specific place. Every time I come in this door, I’m filled with a kind of warm fuzziness that everything is going to be just fine. Like no matter what, this place is where I want to be.

It’s going to hurt like a motherfucker once I leave at the end of the summer.

But I shove that thought aside, instead striding in and toeing off my shoes before setting them neatly on the shoe rack next to Lana’s. I like the look of that, too. Our tiny sevens and huge thirteens next to each other. I edge the shoes a little closer, allowing myself a moment of smugness that the mystery dude she’s seeing tonight doesn’t get to have his shoes next to hers.

I realize as I finally settle in that I can smell something outrageously delicious. We didn’t talk about dinner, and I realize I should have eaten before I came over here.

“What’s in the bag?” Nova asks as Aurora pulls me into the living room.

“Fun stuff,” I tell her, handing over the bag I brought.

Inside is a ton of random items, including a box of microwave popcorn, Silly Putty and Silly String, as well as a Jenga set the local librarian—an older woman called Bea—actually pulled over to give me as I headed home from the coffee shop last night. “Just the man I wanted to see!” she’d said. “In case you like Jenga.”

I do, in fact, like Jenga.

I laugh as the girls descend on the bag, but my laugh cuts off as I glance up the stairs, to where Lana’s coming down, her head tilted as she puts on an earring.

My mouth turns to about the same level of aridity as the Sahara as I take her in. She’s wearing make-up—something smoky around her eyes that make the irises look almost unreal, her lips shiny and pink. I get more agitated as I take in her hair, which bounces in loose waves over her shoulders. Even more when I keep gliding down and see her shoulders area bare because she’s wearing a sundress. A fucking sundress! It’s butter yellow, flowy, and fitted at the waist. The fabric swishes around her bare legs as she takes each step down toward me.

I almost groan when I see her bare feet, the tiny toenails painted pink to match her lips.

“Hello, Raphael,” Lana says, tipping her head the other way to put in the second earring. The long slope of her neck is exposed, and when the dangly earring brushes against it, I curse under my breath, now also jealous of a fucking earring.

Because I’m suddenly very not okay with this date again.

But I stuff that down, because this is what she wants to do. I’m her nanny, not her boyfriend.

“Your eyes,” I say, stupidly, trying to regain some equilibrium.

“Pardon?” she stops on the second to last step, so we’re close to eye level. She smells so fucking good. Perfume, I realize with an inward groan. A subtle floral scent I’ll be dreaming about for days.

She’s looking at me with an eyebrow raised .

I’d said something about her eyes. “The earrings—they match your eyes.”

Lana’s mouth parts, just a little, like she’s going to say something. But she doesn’t, and instead I just get the tiniest glimpse of the tip of her tongue.

Fuck me. “'You look nice, is what I’m trying to say.” I’m keenly aware once the word is out that it’s how one describes pleasant weather or an inoffensive sandwich. Not Lana fucking Bloor.

“She looks beautiful,” Aurora says, looking up from the bag. Has she been watching me turning as loopy as the Silly Putty Nova’s currently testing on the coffee table?

I take a breath, remembering why I’m here.

“You’re right,” I say, smiling at the sweet girl in front of me as she stands up and takes my hand. “She looks beautiful.”

Lana’s cheeks stain pink as she glances between the two of us. “Thank you, sweetie,” she says after a moment. I know she’s talking to her daughter, but I still exchange a grin with Aurora like a happy fool.

Lana gives me a brief, awkward smile as she passes by me on her way to the kitchen.

Once she’s out of hearing range, I whisper to Aurora, “Your mom always looks beautiful.”

Aurora giggles. “Yeah.”

When I look back at Lana, I feel like her cheeks are even pinker, but it’s probably just the steam from the pot she’s opened.

“I made you guys Bolognaise,” Lana says .

My eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? Bolognaise is my favorite!”

“Nova mentioned,” Lana says. “Girls, come and eat.”

When she dishes us each a bowl, I feel like one of the kids. That is, until Lana reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of beer. “Mac also mentioned you like this brewery?”

Now it’s my turn to lift my eyebrows. “I do, actually. Cal introduced me to it at the Dinghy my first weekend here.”

Lana pulls out a bottle opener and pops the cap off the beer with an expert twist of her wrist before tossing the opener back in the drawer and the cap in the garbage. Then she gently hip checks the drawer shut before holding the frosty bottle out toward me.

That was one of the sexiest sequences of movements I’ve ever seen.

When she gives me a little smile, I realize I might as well have spoken that thought aloud. I snap my jaw shut and take the bottle from her, being careful not to brush my fingers against hers. I’m pretty sure if I touched her right now I’d tell her not to go.

And she has to go. This is what she wants to do, and I can’t get in the way of her life. Just because I have a little crush.

“Thank you,” I say, taking a healthy swig of the bottle. I probably won’t finish it; I want to stay focused on these kids. But damn it feels necessary going down my throat.

Cool and frosty. Inanimate. Definitely not wearing a yellow sundress I can imagine sliding up a gorgeous hip.

I can do this.