Holiday Hire (The Cartwright Family #2)

Chapter 11

11

Alexander

P hoebe sits far away from me at dinner, barely looking at me. Whenever I catch her eye, she looks away and starts a new conversation with one of the kids or my siblings.

I can't stop thinking about how to get her to show me her tattoos.

What names did she ink on her body, and why?

Does she think about those guys every day when she's naked and in front of the mirror?

My cock aches, thinking what she'd look like naked.

Jesus. I need to get my head out of the gutter.

We finish eating, and it's turning darker. The kids run around, playing Ghost in the Graveyard. I add more logs to the fire while Phoebe pulls cans of fruit filling, bread, graham crackers, chocolate, and a huge bag of marshmallows out of a canvas tote.

I go to the ATV, grab the roasting sticks and metal pie makers, and set them on the table. "Dinner was good. That was a great idea," I compliment.

She glances at me. "You liked it?"

I nod. "I did. It was really creative. We should make it an annual event."

She smiles, but then it falls. "Maybe you can invite me every year."

The thought of Phoebe not being on the ranch shouldn't feel odd, but it does. My chest tightens. All I can say is, "Sure."

She beams again. "Okay, then I'll pencil it into my busy calendar."

I chuckle.

She adds, "Actually, I haven't done this in a long time. That last time my family went camping, I was only ten." She stops, as if remembering something, and her expression turns a little sad.

"Is everything okay?"

She forces a smile and picks up a can opener. She presses it against the lid of cherry pie filling and turns it. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"Was it a memory or something?"

She hesitates. "Why'd you ask that?"

"You looked sad for a moment. Was it about your father?"

As much as I know it's not right to pry into her life, I want to know what Lance meant about her father not being around.

Why isn't he?

She's a good person. Why wouldn't he want to be part of her life?

Did something horrible happen to him?

She doesn't answer at first, concentrating on opening the can.

I add, "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I'm just curious about your family."

"You are?"

I shrug. "Sure. You know about mine. It seems like I should know about yours."

She sets the open can down, releasing an anxious breath. Then she says, "My family situation is a little complicated."

"Oh?" I say, hoping she'll tell me more. I don't know why, but all of a sudden I want to know everything about her. I tell myself it's because she's watching my kids and is an interesting person. She's so different from us or anyone I've encountered, and I find it refreshing.

Her voice is sad when she reveals, "My mom and sister were in a car accident."

Goose bumps break out on my skin. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are they okay now?"

She shakes her head. "No, my sister's in a home because she can't care for herself. She doesn't know who I am. And my mom… Well..." She looks away.

I put my hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

She takes a deep breath and looks back at me. "It's okay. It's been a while. It took a long time for me to process things and get used to it."

"I'm sure it's hard for you."

She nods, continuing, "My mom lives in a mental institution. After the accident, she couldn't handle the guilt. She was driving the car. Within a year of my sister not recovering, my mom had such severe depression, I couldn't take care of her anymore. The last time she..." Phoebe glances down and blinks quickly.

I step even closer, lowering my voice. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes glisten, and she puts on a brave face. She speaks quickly, stating, "That's my family's story."

"That's a lot for a young woman to deal with," I offer.

She picks up another can and secures the opener on it. "You don't really get a choice when someone you love is sick or injured."

"No, you don't. And it really sucks." I swallow down the lump in my throat.

She freezes, then turns toward me. "I'm sorry. Your parents told me what happened to your wife. I'm sure that was hard on you."

My heart beats harder. "Let's say it was a super-shitty time."

Her expression turns, but it isn't like everyone else's. It's sympathetic, but I don't see pity, which is what I normally experience when people hear my wife died. Instead, there's an element of understanding in her silence.

After a moment, I add, "I'm really sorry to hear about your mom and sister. But where's your dad in all this?"

She returns to her can, cutting the lid, answering, "My parents divorced when I was eleven. That's why my last camping trip was when I was ten. But after the accident, he just took off. It's like he disappeared into thin air."

It's an unfathomable reality for her. I can't imagine ever leaving my sons, especially after their mother died. Phoebe basically lost her mom and sister, so her dad disappearing is inhumane to me.

Shocked, I blurt out, "So you don't have any idea where he went?"

She schools her features, chirping, "Yep. So that's my story. Anyway, do you like cherry or apple pie?"

I glance down at the cans. "Either."

She tilts her head and peers at me closer, teasing, "Why, Alexander Cartwright, are you telling me that you don't have a favorite between cherry and apple?"

I laugh. "Busted. Cherry."

She beams. "Good choice. It's my favorite too."

"Really?"

She nods. "Yeah, but there's nothing like a homemade one, right?"

"Agreed. But you haven't had pie until you taste Georgia's. Just wait until Thanksgiving. And it's too bad you weren't here this past summer. She made the best pies ever. She even took the kids to pick the cherries."

Phoebe pushes her hair behind her ear and says, "I bet they were good. She's really talented."

"Yeah, she is. You're pretty talented too."

Her lips curve. "I am?"

"Yes. You're great with the kids, and you're super creative. Way more creative than I am."

"Well, you were pretty creative when you picked out your tattoo," she teases.

I groan and put my hand over my face. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

She laughs. "It's okay. Sometimes, we do things we wish we wouldn't have, don't we?"

"Are we talking about your tattoos again?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm okay with what I inked on my body."

"And what would that be, again?"

She wags her finger. "Uh-uh-uh. Not telling you."

"What if we make a bet?"

She dramatically gapes at me.

"What did I say?" I question.

"A bet? I think you're becoming an irresponsible gambler, Alexander Cartwright."

"Why is that?"

She turns more toward me, answering, "Because you lost our last bet. Actually, you owe me a favor."

I freeze. I had forgotten about that bet, and it was a stupid mistake. I don't lose very often when I gamble. I always take calculated risks. But I have to hand it to her. She's right. I do owe her a favor. So I cross my arms, suggesting, "Why don't we make another bet?"

She taunts, "Are you becoming an irresponsible gambler?"

"No, I can assure you I'm a very responsible gambler," I assert.

She scoffs. "I'm not sure how anyone can claim that."

"Trust me, I am."

She doesn't say anything, just stares at me.

"So here's what I propose. You can ask for anything you want, but if I win, I get two things."

"Like?"

My blood heats, rushing through my veins. I declare, "I get to see your tattoos."

Red creeps from her neck and sprawls across her cheeks.

My dick hardens. The image of her and what I think she might look like naked appears in my mind. And I should stop all this before it goes any further, but I can't seem to. She's quickly become the most intriguing person I know.

She inquires, "What's the second thing?"

"You let me teach you how to ride a horse."

Her eyes widen. "We're back to this horse craziness now?"

I chuckle. "Yep. You're on the Cartwright ranch. It's a sin not to know how to ride a horse."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. God's honest truth."

She sighs. "I don't want to ride a horse. It's scary."

"Why are you so scared? Tons of people ride horses every day," I point out.

"And people fall and die or become paralyzed."

I scoff. "Everyone around you on this ranch is riding horses. You'll never have a better teacher than me. I promise."

"Oh, I don't doubt you're a good teacher. It's the horse I don't trust."

I grin. "So you trust me, then?"

She stills, peering at me closer.

My pulse pounds between my ears. I've only known her a week, but I'm dying to hear her admit she trusts me. I know she doesn't trust that douchebag, Lance.

She has a boyfriend.

No, she's done with him.

She's not. They're only taking space, whatever that means, I remind myself.

"I guess I trust you," she confesses.

Even though she has a boyfriend, my ego soars. "Good. And I would never put you in danger. So I would never put you on a horse that I didn't trust with my kids."

"Your kids know how to ride though," she points out.

"Yes, because I taught them, and I can teach you too," I declare.

She nervously laughs. "You really want me to ride, don't you?"

I nod. "I do."

"Why?" she questions.

I shrug. "Because I love it and think you will too."

She stares at me.

My chest tightens. I want to know what she's thinking but can't figure it out. I finally question, "So what do you want if you win the bet?"

She tilts her head. "I thought you only make bets you can win."

I grin. "I do. But humor me."

She shrugs. "I don't know. I haven't had time to think about it."

"There must be something you want."

She ponders it for a moment, then snaps her fingers. "Okay, I got it."

"What do you want?"

"You can't be upset with me."

"Why would I be upset with you?"

She bites her lip, hesitating.

"Go on. Whatever it is, you can say it."

"You're not going to be mad at me?" she questions.

"No."

"I'm not going to insult you?"

"I don't know, are you?" I tease.

She arches her eyebrows, biting her lip harder.

"I was kidding. You're not going to insult me. I'm pretty tough," I declare.

Another moment passes.

I add, "Come on, Miss Nanny. You can tell me."

She slowly caves and says, "If I win, we get to paint your house."

I jerk my head back. "Paint my house?"

"Yeah, add some color to it."

"You don't like my house?"

"I didn't say that. I promise you that's not what I meant. I love your house. It's really nice."

I chuckle. "Okay, but you want to paint it?"

"Yes. Some color would be nice."

"So you think it's boring."

She cringes and wrinkles her nose. "It sounds bad, doesn't it?"

I chuckle. "It's okay. I don't have a problem painting the house."

Surprised, she questions, "You don't?"

I shake my head. "Nope. I'm not much of a decorator, and I'm horrible at picking out paint colors. If you want to redecorate, do what you want. Just no pink walls, okay?"

She pretends to be offended. "What do you have against pink?"

I groan. "Pink stinks."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does. Ask my nieces. I tell them that all the time," I admit.

She laughs. "Okay. No pink."

"Okay, so what else do you want?"

"You seriously want me to pick two things?"

"Yes."

She ponders a few moments, then shakes her head. "I really can't think of anything else, Alexander. Painting your house is a big project, so I'm okay with only that."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"It doesn't seem fair to me."

"No?"

I continue, "Nope. So I'll let you think about the second thing and tell me later, okay?"

"Is that fair?" she questions.

"I'm a man. I can handle it."

Amusement fills her expression. She finally asks, "Alright. So, what are we going to bet on?"

I don't hesitate. It rolls out of my mouth before I can even think about it. And it's strange because I didn't have it in my mind going in. I blurt out, "Next Saturday, there's a race at the track. We'll go and each place a bet on the horse we think will win."

She stares at me as if I'm crazy, then states, "I don't know anything about horses or betting. And I don't have money to risk losing."

"Don't worry about the cash. I'll give it to you," I say.

She huffs. "That's not fair."

"It's fine. You pick your horse, and I'll pick mine. If you win, you keep the winnings too."

"What if neither of our horses win?"

"Don't worry, my horse will win," I cockily state.

She laughs. "And there you are again, so sure of your bets."

"Yep."

She tilts her head, asking, "So this is your version of responsible gambling?"

"Yep. So, are you in?"

She takes a few deep breaths, then asks, "Are you sure I don't have to put money down?"

"Nope. Don't worry about it. I'll give you $1,000 for your bet."

"$1,000 dollars! That's a lot of money!"

Amused, I try not to laugh. I realize she's in a different financial position than I am. Maybe I should have said $100, but I normally toss $10,000 down. So I decide it's best to keep that detail to myself.

Her eyes are wide with shock as she looks up at me.

"Are you in?"

She finally holds out her hand. "Okay. It's a bet." We shake on it right as the kids run over to us. Wilder screams, "Pie time!"

Within minutes, my entire family circles us. We spend the next hour making s'mores and pies over the fire.

Mom states, "Jacob, we should get going. We have to leave tomorrow morning."

He nods. "Agreed."

We clean up, and everyone slowly disappears. Evelyn and her husband, and Sebastian and Georgia, take the kids back to the house.

Willow announces, "I'm taking off. I need to get ready for my date."

I groan. "Which idiot are you going out with tonight?"

"None of your business." She smirks, then turns to Phoebe, wiggling her eyebrows. "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can have my date bring one of his friends."

My gut churns.

Don't go.

Don't go.

Don't go.

Phoebe shakes her head. "No, I'm good. But thanks. Have a good night."

Relief hits me.

Willow whines, "Aww, you're a party pooper!"

"Sorry!" Phoebe chirps.

"Fine. But one of these days, you have to come out with me and tear up the town!"

"Okay. Rain check, then," Phoebe agrees.

My stomach flips at the thought.

"I'll go with you," Paisley offers to Willow.

"Okay! I'll have Chase bring Tyler."

Paisley lights up. "Awesome!"

I groan. "They're both idiots."

"No, they aren't," Willow insists.

Jagger asks, "Mason, are you ready to go too?"

"Yep. What bar are you girls going to?" Mason inquires.

Paisley scoffs. "Like we're telling you."

Willow orders, "Stop trying to interfere with our personal lives."

"Then don't give us a reason," Mason states.

I chuckle. "Have fun."

"We mean it," Paisley warns.

"Then behave. See you all later," Jagger says, and he and Mason hop on their horses.

Willow, Ava, and Paisley get into an ATV, and they disappear.

"Ready?" I ask Phoebe.

"Sure."

I unhook the trailer before I get into the driver's side.

She asks, "You're not taking that back?"

"No, I can get it tomorrow. I want to show you something, if you're up for it?"

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling you. You just have to see it."

"Okay," she says nervously.

"I'm sure you'll love it," I state, starting the ATV and leaning close to her. "Don't worry, you won't end up found at the bottom of the lake or anything."

She giggles. "Well, I didn't think of that scenario."

"No?"

She squints, asking, "Do I need to worry about those situations?"

I grin. "No. Hold on."

She grabs the side rail, and we take off. There's a full moon, and the lake glistens. We go into the woods, winding around trees and several rough patches.

"Where are you taking me?" Phoebe asks after several minutes.

"Here," I answer, steering the ATV out of the woods and parking it. I put my fingers over Phoebe's lips and whisper, "Stay quiet."

Her hot breath hits my fingers, and tingles race down my spine. She looks up at me and nods.

Bullfrogs croak all around the lake, and an owl hoots loudly in the sky.

I reach for the gun in the side compartment.

Phoebe's blues widen.

I put my finger on her lips again to remind her to stay quiet.

We sit there for a few moments until the faint yips and howls of the coyotes turn louder.

Phoebe scoots closer to me.

I hold in my chuckle, put my arm around her, and murmur, "Don't worry. Just watch."

She takes an anxious breath. Then her gaze darts across the field and back to me.

I tug her tighter to me, reassuring, "It's okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

She sinks farther into me and rests her head on my shoulder.

A pack of coyotes charge from the other side of the woods into the field. They circle each other in the open area.

I keep my gun in my hand, my eyes alert for any threats, and watch Phoebe's awe as closely as I can. I take deep breaths of her floral scent, wishing my dick would stop taunting me.

The coyotes' sounds get louder, and the head of the pack breaks from the circle. He leads the rest of the animals along the lake, and they all disappear into the woods near the beach.

"Wow," Phoebe utters when their sounds can barely be heard.

"Thought you'd like that," I state.

She looks up. "I did." Her eyes drift to my mouth.

I drop my gaze to her lips, my heart pounding harder, replying, "Glad I could amuse you." I lean closer, and the ringing of my phone suddenly blares through the air.

She jerks away out of my grasp. Her blush appears, and she looks more beautiful than ever in the moon's light.

I remain frozen.

The phone continues to ring.

She says, "You should get that."

What the heck am I doing?

"Right." I pull my phone out of my pocket, then answer, "Hello."

Sebastian booms from the other end of the line, "Ace has a fever. Are you coming back soon?"

My gut drops. "On my way." I put my gun in the side compartment and then shift the ATV into gear with a wave of disappointment soaring through me.