Holiday Hire (The Cartwright Family #2)

Chapter 17

17

Alexander

P hoebe's floral scent flares in my nose. I open my eyes and blink a few times, inhaling deeper. I'm still spooning her, and she's curled into me, peacefully sleeping, her magenta hair all over the place.

Last night was real.

Weak morning light seeps through the darkness. The rooster crows, signaling it's time to wake up, but I'm always awake at this time of the morning. I can never sleep in and normally love getting up to start my day, but not today.

I would stay in bed all day with Phoebe if I could. But there are things to do, and if I don't go soon, my brothers will barge through my front door, wondering why I'm not outside.

I glance at her, debating whether to wake her up or let her sleep.

I'm hungry.

She can sleep later.

I slide out from underneath her and roll her onto her back. Her eyelids flutter. She smiles and shyly says, "Hey. Good morning." She bites on her lip.

"Morning," I reply, then give her a chaste kiss.

She asks, "What time is it?"

"It's about four thirty. Time for me to work."

"Four thirty! Is that the time you get up every day?"

I chuckle. "That sounds about right." I kiss her again, only this time slipping my tongue in her mouth.

She slides her arms around me, pulling me close, and it's a nice feeling I haven't felt in a long time.

I'm no saint. There's a woman in town named Cheyenne. We have a friends-with-benefits arrangement, and it's purely about sex.

So is this.

Is it though?

I glance at Phoebe, wondering what this is between us. It's different from my arrangement with Cheyenne; I've never brought her to the ranch. My kids are here, and I'm not about to confuse them by mixing my personal adult life into the equation. And I'm always back before they wake up and it's time to start work.

Yet everything feels different with Phoebe.

She interacts with my kids.

That's even more dangerous.

"Alexander? Is everything okay?" she asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, baby girl. I'm hungry," I state, unable to get up and leave the room.

Her eyes widen. "Do you want me to make you something before you go outside?"

I grin. "It's not food I'm after."

She opens her mouth, then shuts it, her juicy lips curving.

"I warned you," I tease, and slide down the bed.

She giggles, and I bury my head in her pussy, eating her out quickly.

"Oh my... Oh my gosh," she blurts out, gripping my hair.

I don't take my time like I did the night before. I consume her over and over until we're both drenched.

I rub my finger over her clit and shove my tongue inside her, wanting to devour every ounce of her.

"Alexander!" she cries out, her body convulsing.

All I smell and taste is her. And I want to spend the day drowning in it.

She comes down from an orgasm, and I lunge my body over her, ordering, "Taste what's making your stallion hard as a rock."

She desperately meets my mouth, urgently rolling her tongue around mine.

There's a bang on the front door, and I groan.

She freezes, her expression reminding me of a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

I retreat from our kiss, stating, "Thank God I locked the door last night."

She glances out the window. We can see Mason and Jagger striding toward the corral, which already has two horses trotting around it.

"I have to go. I'm already late."

"No," she whines, pouting.

I chuckle. "Get some rest. I'll see you at breakfast in the main house?"

"Sure," she says, then opens her mouth. She snaps it shut and stares at me in question.

I tuck a lock of her magenta hair behind her ear. "What's wrong, baby girl?"

"How does this work, Alexander?"

"Work?" I ask, and my stomach drops. She asked the one thing I don't have an answer to and don't want to decipher right now.

And what I've done dawns on me in the growing morning light.

I fucked my sons' nanny.

I close my eyes briefly, my heart sinking.

What have I done?

"Well, that wasn't exactly the expression I was expecting," she mutters.

I snap out of it. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"No?" she asks, tilting her head, hurt exploding over her features.

I shake my head. "No, I'm just worried about the boys. They've never seen me with a woman before."

Her eyes widen. "Never?"

"No. Not since their mom..." I pause.

Phoebe puts her hand on my arm.

I shake my head again, continuing, "Not since their mom passed, and they were both babies. They really don't remember her, to be honest."

Pity enters Phoebe's expression. She offers, "That must've been really hard for all of you."

I can't stare at her for too long. I hate pity. People shoot that look at me all the time when they find out I'm a widower. I'm never going to like others directing that look toward me. So I assert, "The boys and I are fine."

She adds, "Yes, but that doesn't mean it was easy."

I quickly agree. "No, it wasn't."

She studies me closer.

"The boys really like you, and I think they're already attached to you. I don't want them to think things if they see us together."

"Things?" She arches her eyebrows.

I ramble on. "Yeah. They're very impressionable. You're from California, and I'm from here. I know you have your life, and we have ours. I don't want them to expect anything and then they get let down."

Her face hardens, and she turns it toward the window, breathing faster.

"Shit. I'm not saying this right, Pheebs," I admit, tugging my hair.

She slides out of bed and pulls the sheet around her. "It's okay."

"No, Pheebs?—"

"No, it's fine. Don't worry. It was fun. I won't attack you or anything in front of them." She tosses me a tight smile.

"Phoebe, I didn't mean it like that," I declare.

She forces a bigger smile and chirps, "It's okay. I'm going to take a shower. I'll see you later at the main house. Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

"Pheebs—"

"All good," she practically sings, disappearing through my bedroom door.

Shit, shit, shit!

I sit on the end of the bed, pissed at myself, wondering why I said what I did the way I said it.

What exactly was I trying to say anyway?

"Ugh," I mumble, putting my hands over my face.

This is new territory for me. I don't bring women I sleep with to the ranch, and I definitely don't sleep with women who have an important role in my kids' lives.

What have I done?

I need to fix this.

But I need to protect my sons.

I didn't expect this. It just happened.

Bullshit. I've been dying to get her in bed since I met her.

No, I haven't, I tell myself, knowing it's another lie.

Until I know what Phoebe and I are and what this means, I need to keep the boys in the dark.

I step into the hallway and knock on the bathroom door, but the shower's on. I turn the knob, finding it locked.

Great. Way to go, Alexander.

I step back into my room, shower, toss on clothes, and brush my teeth. I return to the bathroom, but Phoebe's hair dryer is blaring.

I decide it's best to give us both a little bit of space and figure out what exactly I'm trying to say or even what I want us to be to each other.

I remind myself this can't go anywhere. She's leaving in less than two months. And she still has a douchebag sort-of boyfriend in her life.

Not for long.

She can't be with him. She's with me.

Is she?

What is this between us?

My thoughts go around and around, adding to my frustration. So I leave the house, stepping into the crisp air. The pink morning glow lights up the ranch, creating a false hope that everything will be okay.

I meet my brothers at the corral.

Jagger grins, taunting, "Well, well, well. How did your date with Phoebe go?"

"Yeah. Was your bed rocking last night?" Mason asks.

I try to hit Jagger and Mason simultaneously, but they both duck. I advise, "Shut up. I won't tell you again not to disrespect Phoebe."

"You two looked pretty cozy coming back," Jagger declares.

I freeze, my heart thumping hard in my chest. "What are you talking about?"

He smirks. "I saw you two. It looks like there was a little kissy-kissy face going on."

I go to smack him again.

He jumps back, holding his hands in the air. "Calm down. I don't blame you. I'd bend Little Miss Nanny over my knee too if she were in my house."

I grab him by the collar and pull him close to me. I seethe, "Don't you ever talk about her again."

He pushes back, ordering, "Get off me."

I don't let go, warning, "Listen to me right now. You saw nothing. You understand?"

He gives me a sarcastic look. "Sure I didn't."

Mason shoves us apart. "Calm down, Alexander."

"I mean it. I don't need this," I spout.

Mason declares, "It's not a big deal, so chill out."

I turn to face him. "It is a big deal. I have two young boys who are already attached to her. I don't need them getting ideas in their heads. Do you understand?"

Jagger scoffs. "Ah. So you're admitting that you banged her?"

I spin in his direction and throw a punch. He leans back and it hits his shoulder.

"Jesus, Alexander, calm the fuck down," Mason commands.

"You two better watch it," I say, then go to the barn.

What the fuck have I done?

Visions of everything I did with Phoebe the night before fill my head. My dick hardens, and I groan. I've gotten myself into a mess. It's going to be hard not to want to get her back into my bed.

I open the stall, and Calypso takes a few steps forward. I pet him and coo, "Hey, buddy." Then I put on his harness and attach the leather lead. I take him out of the barn and over to the corral.

Mason and Jagger have three horses running in circles. They don't say anything else to me, but I know how they are. The whole time I'm working, I can't stop thinking about how to keep Phoebe's and my situation hidden from the boys so they don't get the wrong idea.

The bell at the main house rings, and Willow yells, "Breakfast."

I glance over.

Phoebe's magenta hair blows in the wind. She's bundled up in an oversized sweater and has on her skinny jeans and the too-small boots she shoved her feet into the night before.

She quickly moves toward the house, and I stare at her, wanting to run over and kiss her.

I have to control my urges.

Why did I dip my toe into Satan's well?

Jagger tears me out of my thoughts, jabbing, "Your nanny's looking smoking hot today."

"I swear to God, you're two minutes away from digging your own grave," I warn him.

He chuckles, adding, "Chill out. We're not going to say anything. Are we, Mason?"

Mason shakes his head. "No. We'll stay quiet."

"Are you sure?" I ask, not fully believing them.

"Promise," Mason affirms.

"I mean it. Nothing. No innuendos, no teasing, no saying anything to Phoebe or the kids or anyone else. Got it?"

Jagger nods. "You're good. Just chill out. Okay? Don't go in there acting all wound up."

I take a deep breath, warning, "Don't lie to me." I know how my brothers are, and my gut says not to trust them.

They can never keep a secret when my family is involved. They always reveal it at the most inopportune times.

Mason claims, "We have your back."

"You swear? Because if you do say anything, the boys are going to end up hurt. They're your nephews," I remind them.

My brothers' faces turn serious.

Mason repeats, "We understand, Alexander. We're just teasing you. Don't worry, we won't say anything."

I study them for a moment and realize they're telling the truth.

Jagger adds, "You know we wouldn't do anything to hurt the boys."

Relief washes over me. "Thanks."

"I said breakfast," Willow shouts, ringing the bell again.

"Let's go. I'm hungry," Jagger announces, then secures the gate shut.

The three of us make our way to the house. We go inside and wash up.

"Dad, guess what?" Ace calls out, running up to me.

"Hey, buddy." I tousle his hair. "What's going on?"

"We have a special project we're doing with Phoebe."

"You are? What is it?" I question.

"We're not telling you. It's going to be a surprise," Wilder claims, stepping next to his brother.

"Oh?" I say, glancing at Phoebe and wondering what she has up her sleeve.

She has her back to me, and she's talking to Willow in the kitchen. My heart beats faster the longer I stare at her.

"Yeah, you're going to love it," Ace claims.

"Okay, well I can't wait to find out your secret," I tell them, and we step into the dining room.

Everyone sits. I pull out a chair for Phoebe to sit next to me. She looks at it and then goes and sits down on the other side of Mason.

My chest tightens.

She's still upset with me.

Why did everything I said have to come out sounding so wrong?

My number one job is to protect my kids. If she can't understand that, then I'm not sure what to tell her, I say to myself, trying to justify our conversation earlier.

Paisley looks at Phoebe and asks, "How were the races last night?"

Phoebe doesn't look at me, answering, "It was fun."

"Who won the bet?" Willow asks.

"Pheebs won," I interject.

"Pheebs?" Mason mutters under his voice.

I kick him under the table. He chuckles, and I realize I shouldn't have let the nickname slip.

It's just a name. Lots of people give other people nicknames.

Yeah, when they like someone.

Stop worrying about this, I tell myself.

"Yes! Told you Sweetie Pie would win!" Wilder boasts.

"Yeah! We knew she'd beat all of them!" Ace adds.

"Phoebe had seven to two odds too. And that was a good eye you both had," I say, praising my sons.

"I called it first," Wilder claims.

"No, you didn't. I pointed out she was ready to win," Ace proclaims.

I groan. "Do you two ever stop fighting?"

"He always takes all the credit. But I said it first," Ace continues.

"Enough. Let's eat our breakfast in peace," I scold.

Wilder shoots Ace a funny face, and Ace gives him one back.

"Come on, knock it off," I order.

"So how much money did you win?" Paisley asks.

"$4,500," Phoebe answers.

"Awesome. What are you going to do with it?" Willow inquires.

Phoebe smiles. "I have some ideas, but I'll let you know when I figure it out."

"Secrets don't make friends," Willow chirps.

Phoebe laughs, and my heart aches. I hate not being able to sit next to her, hold her hand, and be as affectionate as I want.

She beams. "Sorry. I'll tell you as soon as I know for sure."

Willow groans. "That sucks, but okay."

"What did you do after the track?" Paisley asks.

"Yeah, Alexander, what did you do?" Jagger chimes in, arching his eyebrows.

I'm going to kill him.

I glance at Phoebe, but she picks at the food on her plate. I answer, "Went for some drinks at Boots."

Willow chirps, "I love that place! You should have called and told me to meet you there!"

I grunt. "Figured you were out with some bull rider."

She smirks. "I was, but I would have made him bring me over to the bar."

"Willow, pass the sausage," Jagger orders.

She picks up the platter and says, "Mom and Dad are home in two days. We've got a lot to do to get ready for Thursday."

The conversation changes about the upcoming Thanksgiving week. I spend the entire breakfast trying to get Phoebe to converse with me, but she barely does.

I curse myself. It's my own fault. I set the stage for this, and now I'll have to fix it. Yet I'm still determining exactly what it is I want to fix. The way I see it, whatever route I go, I'm screwed.