Page 30 of Yorkie to My Heart (Friends of Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #6)

Jeremy

“So, Mom’s home and okay?” I eyed my laptop—and more specifically my email program—and waited for the damn thing to leap up and bite me on the nose.

“She’s great. Relieved to be home. And Dad’s awesome. One morning with the kids, and he was totally thrilled to be back in his own house.” Marcie sighed. “Raphael can be…a little intense.”

“You manage.”

“I’m their mother…it’s kind of in the job description.”

“Not all people are lucky enough to have mothers like you.” I hovered my mouse near the icon…and didn’t click it.

“So, about that…”

I sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?” Am I mistaken? Does she not love being a mom? Did I miss a sign or something important or ?—

“Jolly Good Times wants me back.”

My panic receded. Okay, just the old events-organizing firm she used to work for. “Okay.” I scratched my nose. “Well, Raphael’s in kindergarten and Thaddeus is in daycare. You can do a few hours?—”

“Three-quarter time, Jeremy.”

“Oh.” I flashed to what her life had been like pre-Raphael. The crazy hours. The nutty requests. Hell, a couple of times she’d roped me into helping with events. Never enough staff. Always too much chaos. “What are you thinking?”

“That…” She let out a long breath. “I love being a mom, Jer. I really do. But I’m not getting enough adult stimulation.”

“Darren falling down on the job?”

“Jeremy!”

I yanked the phone away from my ear. If Marcie and I weren’t so close, I never would’ve taken the swipe. If she wasn’t madly in love with her husband, I never would’ve made the joke.

“So go back. I’m sure you can find someone to watch the kids.”

Silence.

I moved my mouse to the browser icon and clicked. “Okay, so babysitters in Gaynor Beach. There’s gotta be a website, right?”

“I need someone who can work wonky hours.”

“Right. So there’s got to be a high school student?—”

“I often get home late.”

“Okay, so maybe someone in college? With a flexible?—”

“I think…” She drew in a deep breath.

“What?” My hand fell away from the mouse. “What’s going on?”

“So…” She let out the breath. “You’ll tell me if you think I’m nuts, right?”

“You’re always nuts and not allowed to joke about mental illness. Your rule, remember?” Something she’d drilled into me. Just like how normal could be a very damaging word. I waited.

She didn’t respond.

“Spit it out, Marcie. I’m expecting an email from the lawyer we hired who filed a cease-and-desist demand with Tucker and Mixer.” Jesus, even saying their names grossed me out.

“What about Phillip?”

“What about Phillip? He’s out clothes shopping with James.

Something about insurance money.” I flicked the mouse around my screen, but didn’t click.

“Like, I know insurance can sometimes give you cash right away, but James isn’t living in the house.

Of course, what do I know? Maybe he and Colin are funding this shopping trip because they feel guilty about the fire.

Which they shouldn’t. The fire marshal’s report isn’t final, but she’s sure there was something bad with the wiring.

Happens in older homes. I’m glad when I did my reno that I took out all the old stuff and?—”

“What if Phillip might be interested in babysitting?”

I sat in stunned silence. “Uh…”

“Hear me out.”

“Of course.”

“He said he wants to get a job, but he doesn’t have any skills.”

His comment about half a philosophy degree flashed in my memory. “Yeah, okay…”

“He was so great with the kids, Jer. Honestly. Raphael couldn’t stop talking about how much fun they had. And you know they’re not always effusive or enthusiastic about babysitters.”

Hell, sometimes I wasn’t entirely welcome. “Okay…”

“Of course he might say no. But…what if he doesn’t? He could do this for a while until he figures out what he wants to do. I’d need to do a background check?—”

Which I was one-hundred percent certain would come back clean.

Still, better safe than sorry.

“And I’d want him to take a childcare minicourse.

The rec center is offering one starting the week after next.

Admittedly, most of the people in the class will be teenagers, but I don’t think that would bother him.

If it does, I could probably arrange some private instruction.

And there’s the online course on parenting free-spirit kids that was so helpful with Raphael. He could take that?—”

“You’ve really thought about this.”

“I have.” She cleared her throat. “If you could’ve heard Raphael. They…they don’t give their trust often. Someone has to earn it. Over the last week, Phillip’s earned it.”

“This might just be a ploy to get Wally in the door.”

She laughed. “Oh, I thought of that as well. I pointed out that Wally might be overwhelmed and want to stay home with Uncle Jeremy.”

“At least some of the time they can come here.” I gazed around. The solarium could be closed off from the rest of the house, including the area in the front where I worked.

“So you think this is a good idea?”

I remembered the exhausted man I’d tucked into my bed last night.

“The kids are a lot, Marcie. Hell, I don’t even know if Phillip likes kids.

” Or if he wants ones of his own . Which was the most ridiculous question ever to ask since I barely knew the guy…

except I wanted to know what he wanted from life.

Or what he thought he wanted. Or what he thought he was supposed to want.

Because those could all be very different things.

“I’m asking if you have an objection to me talking to him about it.” Her voice carried an edge to it.

Tread carefully.

“Marcie.” I swirled the cursor in random patterns.

“You’re an adult. He’s an adult. Yes, he’s…

had issues. He’s been very candid with me about them and, I think to a lesser extent, with you.

Do I have any misgivings about him spending time with the kids?

None. Do you want me to pay for the background check and the childcare classes?

I’m happy to do it. Hell, I didn’t even know such a thing existed. ”

“They’re a step up from babysitting lessons, but a far cry from early childhood education classes.”

I blinked. “Yeah, okay. He spent one day with your kids, and you think he’d be good with them?”

“He’s spent several different times with my kids and I know he’s good with them. Look, you know I’m very analytical.”

Which was part of how she coped with Raphael’s autism. “Yes.”

“This is a gut instinct. I promise I’ll ask him in a way that makes it easy to say no, if he doesn’t like the idea.”

I pursed my lips. “He talked about the kids this morning. He lit right up.”

“And you didn’t tell me this first because…”

I could hear her tapping her metaphorical foot. Hell, maybe even her literal one. “Because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I wanted to know what your intentions were.”

“My intentions. How about yours, big brother? What are your plans for the future?”

“I’m taking things day by day.”

I didn’t often lie to my sister.

Like, ever.

Because she always called me out on my bullshit.

But that lie stuck in my craw as I worked through the next few hours. Same old, same old until two emails hit my inbox at the same time. After only a fraction of a second’s hesitation, I opened the one from the lawyer first.

I fist pumped the air. Karen Mixer had removed all the photographs and videos from her sleazeball website. Didn’t mean everyone and their uncle hadn’t downloaded and made a copy, but the apology and retraction issued by the woman eased a bit of my seething anger toward her.

A bit.

The second email was from Andreas.

For a moment, I worried he was terminating my services. He hadn’t actually had a good run of publicity since the bar incident. I’d done my best to guide him through the disaster, but maybe he thought I wasn’t on my game? Hell, maybe I wasn’t. I had been distracted.

Nope.

He was merely thanking me, and letting me know he’d decided to head up to Canada nearly two weeks early. “To clear my head . ”

That was just fine with me. Away from Omar. Away from LA. Away from all the toxicity and, hopefully, the vultures from the less-than-legitimate press.

Valentino’s head of security, a guy named Hallstein, would be assigning a minder to my client. At least until Norah showed up, and the filming started. Then, hopefully, he’d be too busy to get into trouble.

I spent several minutes crafting what I hoped would be an appropriate response.

Empathetic for the shitstorm he’d just endured.

Firm that violence was never the answer.

Optimistic about the upcoming movie. Friendly enough that he’d know he could always count me on—whether we had a professional relationship or not.

Satisfied I’d hit the right balance, I clicked send.

Lunch .

So much had happened today so far.

James had suggested he’d grab lunch with Phillip in San Clemente where they were shopping, so I rummaged around my fridge searching for something perfect for lunch.

Oh, I’d meant to put the steaks in a marinade for barbecue tonight.

Should I invite Marcie and the nibblets? Is that too nosy?

Possibly.

Probably.

But that didn’t stop me from issuing the invitation. Darren was still in San Diego, so I figured Marcie might appreciate having someone else cook.

Wally yawned and stretched as he joined me in the kitchen.

“Have a good nap?”

He cocked his head.

“Well that’s good. Don’t look too greedily at my food. You’re not getting anything. Your dinner isn’t until?—”

He started scurrying around the kitchen in excitement. He grabbed his bowl in his little teeth and brought it to drop at my feet.

Shit. Obviously I shouldn’t have uttered the word dinner.

So now what to do?

What would I do if I fucked up with the nibblets?

Distraction.

Right.

I quickly sealed the steaks in containers with the marinade and shoved them back in the fridge.

Wally whined.

“That’s right.”

He cocked his head the other way.

“We’re going for a walk.”

He dropped his bowl.