Page 5 of Worth the Try (Atlanta Granite #1)
He looks down, the beginnings of a blush forming just above his beard. It might be more adorable than the grins his daughter has been throwing my way. “Nah, but I’ve had to learn to trust my gut. Make decisions quickly. And you seem nice.”
Nice. Of course. Of course the hot rugby player thinks I’m nice. Some sexless creature with a one-dimensional personality who will play Barbie with his daughter for a couple of months.
Then I check myself. Don’t I want him to think I’m nice? I mean, I am nice. So why am I suddenly anti-nice? Get it together. I throw on the pageant smile. “Hit me.”
He raises a scarred brow, and there’s something in his expression. As though he sees right through me.
Impossible. “I mean, you know.” I wave my hand, forcing myself to claw back to metaphorical standing and to get my act together.
I’ve faced much, much more intimidating situations than this hulking set of muscles.
Besides, the prospect of living rent-free for a few months in a place that doesn’t involve Kari’s couch is too good to pass up, even if it does come with a daily reminder of everything that I can’t have. “Ask me the questions.”
He pulls his phone out, opens an app, and pushes it to me. “Fill that out.”
The phone may as well be a snake for the look I give it.
Ansel chuckles. “Remember the background check I mentioned?”
I fix him with a look. “You run background checks so often that you have an app at the ready?”
He sighs. “I…have trust issues.”
I snort a laugh, then immediately cover my mouth. “Sorry. That was rude. I just—” I hesitate, trying to figure out how best to say this. “First you tell me you trust your instincts, then you say you have trust issues.”
“Hey,” he protests, the veneer he’s constructed falling for a moment, “I’m multi-faceted.”
It makes me laugh even more. “Gotta say, Mr. Miles, I’ve never met a guy who readily admits his shortcomings.” Especially one who looks like him.
“Ansel,” he corrects. “Mr. Miles is my father.”
“Ansel,” I repeat, trying his name out.
He clears his throat. “And don’t worry. There’s plenty I get wrong.” He glances at his daughter, who’s returned with a sheet from one of her coloring books. “Right, Rosie?”
She nods seriously. “Right.” Then she climbs into his lap, the paper crinkling between them as she settles in. “What am I right about this time?”
I pick up the phone and start entering my info, wondering where her mom is. I can’t ask—not right now, anyway. But it seems like she’d be an obvious choice for summer Rosalie duty. I’m sure Kari knows. It’s her job to learn all there is to know about the players, so I’ll get the scoop later.
But…no. I won’t ask her. That feels like an intrusion.
“Do you like kids?” Rosalie asks after I finish with the phone and slide it back to Ansel.
My gut twists painfully, but I plaster on my trusty smile and answer, “I do.”
“Do you have any?”
I fight to keep my expression steady. “I don’t.”
“Rosalie,” Ansel warns. “We talked about that question.”
“It’s revelant,” Rosalie protests, her little voice full of indignation.
“Relevant,” Ansel corrects, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
My heart melts. Something about a newly minted five-year-old using big words is just too much for me to bear, even if the question hurts. “It’s okay,” I assure them. “Do you have more questions for me?”
Her hazel eyes light up. “I do!”
It’s a solid half hour before I’ve answered all of Ansel’s, and a fraction of Rosalie’s, questions.
Her questions are definitely more fun than her father’s: favorite place to visit, favorite color, childhood pets, current pet, is my hair always this curly, favorite rugby team, favorite sport, did I know who Bluey was, can I count to ten in Spanish, and so on.
But in the end, Ansel nods decisively. “The job’s yours if you want it.
Assuming you pass the background check.”
“Right,” I tease him. “Trust issues. Got it.”
Rosalie slides off her dad’s lap and gives me a hug, smelling of sunshine. “I hope you get it,” she whispers loudly.
We stand, and Ansel towers over me once again. I move back, having forgotten just how big he is.
He clocks the move, making his own retreat by a couple of steps. “I’ll be in touch. Should only take a day.”
Kari and Lennox join us. “Took you long enough,” Lennox says. “I’m starving.”
“You ate all Rosalie’s snacks,” Kari points out. “How are you starving?”
“Woman, have you looked at me?”
Kari shrugs, pretending to be thoroughly unimpressed with Lennox’s hulking form. “I’ve seen better.” Then she turns to me as Lennox protests behind her. “Come on. I’ve sorted out who’s helping you move already. I’m allergic to this place on the weekends.”
I laugh and lean forward to kiss her on the cheek. “You’re the bestest best friend.”
She smirks. “I know.”
Hooking my purse over my shoulder, I begin to follow her without a backward glance.
“Elodie,” Ansel calls.
My feet stop of their own volition, and I turn back to him.
He holds Rosalie’s hand, keeping her steady as she hangs from it and lets her body go limp to dangle inches from the floor. It’s clearly a move he’s used to. “I’ll be in touch.”
I smile. “You said that already.”