Fresh Meet Page 3

  Now it’s a bit after ten in the morning, and Jace is here. With us. For the first time. It’s strange and oddly intrusive.

  Even though it’s his house.

  His son.

  More than once this last week, I thought about Jace when I was lying awake in bed at night. Trying to put myself in his shoes. His situation and what happened to Tanner’s mom is sad, but also strangely fascinating. Probably not unique, but unique enough I’d say. I’d hope.

  Something that’s hard to fathom. To not know you have a child, just to have it practically shoved into your life—a very busy one at that—after learning the woman you were involved with died.

  A shiver runs down my back at the thought alone.

  Kind of creepy, probably making the whole situation even harder to get used to. Especially since Jace seems a bit awkward around Tanner, but hopefully he just needs to warm up to the situation. From the little I’ve seen them interact, it has improved already.

  Some people aren’t kids-people by nature, I’ve seen my fair share of those over the years. But he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy either who’d say “No, please take my son somewhere else, I don’t want him.” I wonder how much experience he’s had with kids prior to Tanner. If I had to guess, the answer would be not a lot. But he’s trying. At least, he smiles at Tanner and is nice to him, which is worth a ton.

  Now he’s there, right in front of the couch. His long legs clad in gray sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, a black T-shirt tucked messily into the front of it. “Hey.”

  His voice is deep and rich, his gaze barely skimming over me before landing on Tanner.

  Then he walks around the couch table and sits down on the edge of the cushion, leaving a good distance between us, like he’s unsure of how to approach Tanner.

  Tanner lifts his hand sideways with his fingers spread wide and touches his forehead with his thumb several times. Then his gaze drifts over to me as if he’s looking for reassurance.

  I nod, giving him a big smile. “Yes. That’s Daddy.” I lift my hand to copy his motion, confirming he did the correct sign. “Say, ‘Hi, Daddy.’”

  Tanner repeats the sign once more before waving at Jace. Then he launches into a string of incoherent babbling.

  I realized on day one that Tanner does talk, a lot actually, but it’s mostly random babbling that no one but he understands. In a word, he’s incredible. When Jace told me what had happened to Tanner, I truly thought I’d have to deal with a distraught, confused, and very quiet young boy that I’d need to coax and calm and coddle.

  But Tanner has been so happy, so . . . adaptable. Patricia mentioned he was in daycare, and it makes me think he started at a young age. Not surprising if his mom was a single mom with no other relatives around to help. He’s simply accepted that I’m his nanny, and that Jace is his daddy. Amazing.

  He turns to me, his fingers rushing through a set of movements not a lot of people would recognize because they’re so sloppy. But I do. The letters of my name, the same ones I signed in every episode we filmed during my introduction. Tanner’s trying though, and the first letter m looks actually pretty recognizable.

  I point at myself, before fingerspelling my name too, extra slow this time. “Yes, I’m Millie.”

  Movement to my left makes me lift my head to stare straight into Jace’s blue eyes.

  “Does everyone call you Millie?”

  I shrug. “Mostly. That’s what my friends call me, and what I went with for the show. I think kids like it better, and I do too.”

  “Your family doesn’t call you Millie?” His eyebrows draw together, the only motion on his face.

  Well, crap on a pretzel stick. He’s a straight shooter. Of course, I walked right into that one.

  The last thing I want to do is talk about my family.

  He doesn’t look away, just keeps studying my face as I have a heated debate inside my head. Thank goodness no one can see what’s going on behind my mop of hair.

  “No.” I return the penetrating gaze, silently challenging him to say anything else.

  “Okay.” He turns to Tanner, who’s been happily looking at his books, before gazing back at me. “He hasn’t eaten yet, right?”

  Shaking my head, I check the time on the Blu-ray player on the media center. “No. I was going to turn on a show for him after we’re done reading so I can get his lunch ready.”

  “I can read with him.” He looks hopeful, and . . . nervous I think.

  I sit up straight, my stomach churning once. “Oh, of course.”

  Turning to Tanner, I brush a hand over his hair. “Daddy is going to read to you, okay?”

  He puts his hands together, palm to palm, before opening them like a book.

  “Yes, book. Good job.”

  His eyes flicker to Jace for a moment, a hint of uncertainty in them as he watches his dad repeat the book sign as well.

  Jace’s eyes are trained on Tanner, the corners of his mouth lifted in a friendly grin. “Should we read a book together, buddy?”

  Tanner gives me a smile that melts my heart. I return it and get up, going to the kitchen. Trying hard to push down my other emotions. The pity. And compassion. Sympathy. I think it’s just sinking in how hard this is for Jace. For both of them.

  They are, in every possible way, absolute strangers, and might not know how not to be.

  The urge to help, to push this along is strong, but I’m not sure that’s the best thing for them.

  Before sadness takes over, I busy myself with Tanner’s meal. Some scrambled eggs and cheese toast. Something quick and easy he loves and has devoured each time I’ve made it so far.

  I last about two minutes before I glance up. Tanner has moved on from the books, a car and a truck now in each of his hands as he drives them along the edge of the cushions. Jace sits on one end of the couch, holding the big parking garage wide open for Tanner to drive into.

  My eyes close as relief washes through me. This is good. Really good, and exactly what both of them need.

  Belatedly, I realize I didn’t ask Jace if he wants something to eat too. Dang it. I’m pretty much done with Tanner’s and mine, about to put it on our plates. I could offer him mine.

  I clear my throat. “Jace, do you want some too?”

  He turns to look at me over his shoulder. “Nah. I’ve got my prepped meals. But thanks.”

  “Okay.” My stomach rumbles, and I barely contain my chuckle. Close call.

  I grab the plates and walk over to the table. The second Tanner sees me, he drops everything and runs over. After I pull out his chair at the head of the dining table, he climbs into it, his butt firmly planted in the highchair. I buckle him in and push him to the table before handing him his green spoon—his favorite color.

  “Here you go, buddy. Bon appétit.” I put his plate in front of him and ruffle his hair before sitting down in the chair to his right.

  “You speak French?” Jace’s questioning eyes are on me.

  I shrug. “Not really. But enjoy your meal doesn’t sound as good. Much prettier in French.”

  “I guess.”

  Tanner and I eat while Jace takes out several food containers from the fridge to heat up in the microwave. The fridge is filled with meals prepared by a local chef, but we’ve never eaten together.

  My jaw falls open when he brings his food to the table, or rather when he starts to bring it over because it doesn’t seem to end. Back and forth he goes, loading up the table with what looks like enough food for Tanner and me for a whole day, if not two.

  When he sits down opposite me, the corners of his mouth twitch. It might have something to do with me staring at him like he’s grown a third eye.

  My eyes bounce from the food to his face when I finally snap out of my stupor. “Are you seriously going to eat all of this?”

  “Yup.”

  I bite my tongue before a curse word slips past my lips, but boy, does it want to get out. “Holy guacamole.”

  Jace takes a b
ite of what looks like pasta with chicken, right as his stomach lets out an angry growl. After chewing another mouthful, he puts down his fork and wipes his mouth with a paper towel. “Believe me, I need it. If I didn’t eat this much, I’d easily lose five pounds or more a week.”

  “No way.” My answers keep getting more brilliant by the minute.

  “I burn a lot of calories every day.”

  I nod, unable to wrap my head around eating so much food, or burning so many calories.

  When I don’t say anything else, he picks his fork back up, and works his way through bowl after bowl. Besides the pasta, there’s also a large sandwich, some fresh fruit, and a sports drink.

  When I pick up my toast, I stay quiet, my eyes mostly trained on my plate or Tanner. He’s too engrossed in eating to notice much around him, happily shoving small pieces of scrambled eggs in his mouth with his chubby fingers, his spoon long forgotten.

  His eyes have grown tired in the last half hour, his body knowing that his nap is coming up when he’s done eating, which is the reason why we usually have an early lunch. Looks like Jace is on the same schedule.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t around much this last week.” Jace’s voice is gentle. Hesitant.

  He picks up his drink and unscrews the cap, the bottle opening with a swooshing pop. “I missed a lot of training the last few weeks with everything going on, so I had to catch up and get back in the groove.”

  “It’s okay. You told me your schedule is crazy.” My plan was to ask him about it once we’re more familiar. It’s not like I need him here or that my working hours would change. But I’m definitely curious.

  Jace shakes his head. “It is, but it’s not always this bad. I train twice a day either at the aquatic club or at the pool at Hawkins University. Usually, I come home between my sessions for lunch though. And, if possible, a nap.”

  “A nap?” The words are out before I’m done processing what he said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Honestly, I have no clue about swimming, or swimmers for that matter. For some reason, I didn’t expect them to nap though. I’m not like some people who think it’s ridiculous for adults to take naps, that it’s for kids, but it still throws me for a loop. It sounds silly coming from a guy like him. “That’s . . . fun.”

  He blows air out of his nose at my answer, and I look down, hoping he won’t see my cheeks because they feel like they might burn holes in my face.

  “Consider it my secret weapon, one of my special training techniques.” He takes a bite of his sandwich, chews, and swallows, his Adam’s apple pulling my gaze to the smooth skin of his neck. Everything about him is smooth. “Or maybe I just like to sleep.”

  No argument from me there, so I nod. “You’ve been to the Olympics before, right?”

  Wow, Millie. Way to expose you’ve been looking up your boss online.

  “I have. Next year will be my fourth one.”

  I stare at him for a moment, trying to wrap my head around that. “Wow. That sounds like a lot of work.”

  Jace chuckles. “It is. It’s pretty much been my life since I was a kid.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “It is.” His expression has turned serious.

  What must that feel like? To dedicate everything to a sport like that. Is it really worth the sacrifices?

  I focus back on my lunch, but not before noticing how oddly quiet it’s been. When I look over at Tanner, he’s sound asleep in his chair, his head tilted back and to the side, his mouth wide open. Only kids can pass out like that.

  I’m about to push back my chair, when Jace beats me to it.

  “I’ve got it.”

  For some reason, his statement takes me aback, but I nod anyway. “Okay.”

  I guess I feel that if I’m on the clock, I should do all the responsibilities of the nanny. But, this is new to both of us, so I’ll go with whatever Jace thinks is best. It’s also nice to see Jace so keen to do things with his boy. It’s undeniably cute.

  Jace hesitates for a moment with his hands midair before gently grabbing Tanner under his armpits, pulling him out of the highchair, and up to his chest, where Tanner’s head flounders to the side on his dad’s shoulder.

  It’s a sight to behold.

  This tall, lean mountain of a man gently cradling his little boy he didn’t even know about until recently. He’s lost almost three years with him he can never get back, and Tanner deserves every bit of affection, especially after losing his mother at such a young age.

  From the outside, it seems like Jace has it in him to give Tanner exactly that. Because how can someone who’s so passionate about his life and what he does with it, even devoting most of it to his job, his sport, his dream, not have any devotion left for his child? How sad that would be for a little—

  How sad that would be for any child . . .

  The hairs on my back suddenly stand up when the realization hits me hard.

  Because that is familiar territory. Because I know just how sad that is . . . how damaging.

  Four

  Jace

  My fingers grace the wall of the pool, and I lift my head in relief. Maybe I pushed too hard during my cool down, but I felt so tense that I needed to let out some extra steam toward the end.

  Hunter crouches down next to the starting block, right in my face as I push up my goggles. “I’m so happy you kicked that punk’s ass. Your times were awesome.”

  I also had to push a lot harder than normal to get those times. But I don’t tell Hunter that.

  He squeezes the cap in his hand and casts a glance in the direction of the group that has gathered on the side of the pool. A bunch of cocky college freshmen.

  Maybe I should have trained by myself at the aquatic club today after all. Instead, I went to the university pool to see my coach, who alternates between both training locations depending on availability. But then, I wouldn’t have seen Hunter either, who’s here with his coach.

  “I didn’t do anything.” I roll my shoulders, willing this damn tension to go away.

  His gaze finds mine, and he shakes his head. “Of course you didn’t. It’s not like he has a chance against you. They don’t call you king of the water for no reason.”

  “They’re kids, Hunt.”

  He moves to the side so I can get out of the pool, even though my arms feel like Jell-O.

  “Doesn’t mean they have to think they’re better than others and act like jerks. It serves him right to learn some respect. Hopefully, that’ll put them all in their place.”

  I walk over to the bench to grab my towel. “We were just as bad back then. Thinking we were better and faster than everyone else.”

  “Maybe you were, but I wasn’t.”

  I pause with my towel right above my chest and look at him. His shit-eating grin confirms he’s full of it. “If I was bad, you were worse. You pretty much challenged everyone back then, thinking you were the hottest thing professional swimming had ever seen.”

  His casual shrug portrays Hunter’s personality more than words ever could. “I was the hottest thing, still am.”

  A chuckle escapes my mouth even though it’s the last thing Hunter needs. He doesn’t need to be encouraged. Not one bit. Two years younger than me at twenty-six, he’s often still a young punk at heart, exactly like the ones he just mocked.

  The only difference is, he has enough gold medals to back up his confidence. Even though his ego is big enough without the medals.

  “Speaking of hot things . . . how’s that nanny of yours doing?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  The pointed stare I give him does nothing to deter him. Instead, I pretend I didn’t hear him, gather my things, and wave to my coach before heading in the direction of the showers.

  I only have a few hours before I’m back after my lunch break and a nap if I can manage it. I could really use one.

  Hunter doesn’t miss a beat, grabbing his stuff and falling into step beside me. “Oh, come on, dude, give me somethin
g. She’s smoking hot.”

  His comment makes my step falter, and I turn to look at him. “How would you even know? You haven’t met her.”

  Now that I think about it, it actually surprises me he hasn’t shown up on my doorstep unannounced.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Hunter stops me with a hand on my bicep. “Please tell me you’ve googled her and checked out the YouTube channel of her old show. I mean, come on. What kind of employer are you?”

  Why do I feel like he’s interrogating me? I didn’t have time for this stuff when I was trying to find someone for Tanner, nor did I feel like it. Hunter has nieces and nephews. He’s probably familiar with a lot of the kid’s stuff. Me, on the other hand? Not one bit.

  “My mom checked out her social media.” He knows how much my mom loves everything online. “And, of course, I ran some background checks.”

  “That’s something, at least.” It’s such a quiet mumble I almost miss it.

  “Do I have to be concerned that you think she’s hot after watching her on a kids’ show?” I know he doesn’t discriminate when it comes to women. He likes them all.

  Shaking his head like I’m the weird one in this scenario, he judges me. He so does. “I think we have to get you to a doctor. It’s been like fifty-seven years since you’ve been with someone, and I’m afraid they’ve retracted your man card.”

  I blink. My best friend, the exaggerator.

  As usual, he ignores me. “Jace. She’s hot, like, seriously hot. And you’re acting like I’ve lost my mind. Her tits in the tight yellow shirt she always wears, her long legs under that tutu. Makes me wonder what’s underneath and how it would feel to get in close and shove up that skirt—”

  “What the hell, dude?” I’m relieved there’s an actual reason for her strange yellow outfit, but the feeling only lasts for a moment. “That outfit seriously does it for you? I don’t get it.”

  His eyes go wide at my words. “She comes to your place dressed like that?”

  My shoulders rise and fall. “Something like that, yeah.”

  He looks at me like he’s never seen me before. Or maybe he’s wondering why he’s my friend. He rubs his hand over his face like I just did something inexcusable, and I have no clue why.