He shrugged. “I’m good. Workwise, it was a pretty slow day, so afterward, me and a few friends stopped off for a burger and beer. I chilled there for a while to be sure I was sober enough to drive.”
She nodded.
“Quinn all right?”
“Perfect.”
The house’s silence that had only a few minutes earlier been comforting now served as a reminder of just how awkward her new position may be. She’d never stayed with a family before and she hadn’t thought about the situation from the perspective that for all practical purposes, she now lived with this man.
Drip, drip, drip went the kitchen sink.
Outside, the neighbor’s dog barked.
“Well...” Calder leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Since we’re probably both thinking it, I’m going to come right out and say it—this is weird.”
She exhaled with relief. “You’re feeling it, too?”
“No offense, but the way you’re sitting there all prim and proper like my mom, I’m afraid you’re going to ground me for missing curfew.”
She laughed. “Trust me, I’m the last person who’d judge.” Although if she were in his position, she wouldn’t waste so much as a second away from his son. She’d learned the hard way what it was like when you weren’t able to see your child. The pain was indescribable.
“Now that we’ve got that dealt with—” he stood, tugging his T-shirt over his head “—I’m gonna grab a quick shower, then study a new manual.”
“Um, sure.” Her cheeks blazed. Faced yet again with his muscled-up chest, she was grateful he retreated to his room. The part of her craving adult conversation realized Calder’s vanishing act was for the best.
He was her boss.
Not her friend—certainly not anyone whose bare chest she should be appraising.
Chapter Three
“Since you’re still up, there’s something I want to run past you.”
An hour had gone by since they’d last talked, but judging by the way Pandora jumped when Calder entered the room, she’d been deeply absorbed in a parenting book.
“Scintillating?” he teased, running his hand over his bare chest.
When she glanced up at him, her cheeks reddened. “Um, not really. Just researching the proper way to introduce Quinn to more solid foods.”
He nodded, fighting a flash of guilt for not having read the book he’d bought months earlier. “Last time I talked to my mom, she mentioned that.”
“Oh?” Pandora’s red cheeks fairly glowed. Ducking behind her book, she added, “That’s nice.”
What was her problem?
The air-conditioning kicked on, chilling what moisture still clung to his chest from the shower. Then it dawned on him—prim-and-proper Wonder Nanny didn’t like him not wearing a shirt. She’d be the first woman in history who disapproved of his eight-pack, but as her employer, he supposed professional courtesy dictated he be fully dressed. Ducking into his room, he grabbed a clean T-shirt from an unfolded basket of laundry. After tugging it over his head, he returned to the living room. “I know I told you I didn’t want to talk about Quinn’s mother until I had a few beers in my system, but I guess since you’re now his primary caregiver, you need to know why I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to parenting.”
“I’ve seen worse.” She sipped from her iced tea.
“Not sure if that’s good or bad.”
“Good,” she assured.
He struggled for the right place to start. “Until a couple months ago, I didn’t know Quinn existed. Back then, I shared an apartment with friends and one morning I opened the door to find Quinn in his carrier. A Post-it attached to the handle pretty much said his mom quit and now it was my turn to be his parent.”
Hands over her mouth, Pandora’s striking green eyes shone with unshed tears. “That’s crazy. Where is she now? What if something had happened to him while he was alone? You don’t even know anything about his medical records.”
“Yeah,” he said with a sarcastic chuckle, “tell me about it. I took him to a pediatrician and he seems healthy. Had a DNA test run and sure enough, he’s mine. Only—and I’m not proud of this—I don’t have a clue who his mom could be.”
“You haven’t heard from her? How could she just leave her child without at least reassuring herself that he’s okay? What if you hadn’t even been home, but off on one of your missions?”
“Valid questions.” Running his hand over his whisker-stubbled jaw, Calder said, “I have to assume she knew my car, and when she saw it parked out front, guessed I was home. Still, the whole thing’s thrown me off my game. I’ve been asking tons of questions from everyone I know who has a kid. Bought this house so Quinn would have a backyard. Tonight was the first time I’ve been out with my friends in what feels like forever.”
“Was it as fun as you’ve no doubt imagined?”
Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the ceiling. “It was all right.” What he wouldn’t admit was that his good time had been partially ruined by mental images of her. Of wondering what she and Quinn were doing. Was the little guy playing with his plastic boats in the bath? All of which made no sense, considering how grateful he’d been to hand over his kid to a practical stranger.
“Sorry. Hopefully, now that I’m here, you can get back to your old routine.”
“Yeah. That’d be good.” But would it? And now that Calder had Quinn, was it even possible to revert to the way his life used to be? Before having a kid, he’d had no worries beyond making it to duty on time. Now he had a constant streaming checklist of diapers and baby food and formula. Granted, all of that was now Pandora’s domain, but what kind of dad would he be to just let her take over Quinn’s parenting in full?
“You ever worry about what you’ll do if Quinn’s mother suddenly shows up, wanting to take him back?”
“Thought’s crossed my mind.” In those first rough days, he’d found himself praying for just such a scenario. But as time went on, he’d gotten angry. Calder might not be the best dad, but he sure as hell would never leave his kid on a doorstep. “At this point, I doubt any judge would grant custody to a mother who pulled this kind of stunt. I mean, what kind of woman abandons her child?”
“I don’t know....” Was it his imagination, or had she paled?
* * *
AS MUCH AS Pandora cherished Calder’s quiet home during her first day, she struggled falling asleep in the still of night. After hours of fitful tossing and turning, she was relieved to hear Quinn cry over the baby monitor.
She went to him, scooping him from his crib for a quick diaper change before making him a bottle. By this age, she was surprised he wasn’t sleeping through the night, but after what Calder told her, she suspected the little guy was waking not from hunger, but an innate need for reassurance that while he’d slept, his world hadn’t once again fallen apart.
In the kitchen, Quinn on her hip, she said to the sleepy boy, “When your dad told me your mom abandoned you, I felt sad. But then I felt guilty. By choosing to drink over raising my little girl, is that what I did to her?”
Quinn nuzzled his head against her neck. His warmth, the downy-soft feel of his hair, filled