Yeah, that confirms my theory.
In between bites, I got a lot of intel. She loved Selena Gomez, her favorite color was pink, she could watch Snow White every day and wasn’t much of a reader. She did like coloring books and crafts, though.
After we finished the sandwiches, I took out the sunscreen. We’d smeared ourselves at the house, but it was time to reapply; the sun was burning, and we were sweating a lot. A few minutes later, we went on with our bike ride, only taking another break to eat hot dogs from a food truck for an afternoon snack. Once we got home later that afternoon, we worked on a puzzle of the Chicago skyline while drinking lemonade. As six o'clock approached, I was on pins and needles again, bracing myself for Tate's arrival.
He came home at six on the dot. The second the front door opened, Paisley jumped into his arms. He gave her a tight hug, smiling over her shoulder. When he looked up, his gaze met mine, and I was delighted at the look of happiness in his irises. He put his daughter down and walked toward me, and I swear to God, with every step he took, my body temperature seemed to rise in anticipation of his nearness. This was going to be much harder than I thought.
"How was the day?" he asked. “Thanks for the pics, by the way.”
“You’re welcome. It was great. The pics were from the Lakefront Trail. We were there for a while and then we came home and spent some time inside the house working on a puzzle."
“It was so fun, Daddy,” Paisley piped up. “Lexi can ride really fast, not like the last nanny. And she made a really good lemon drink too.”
Tate was obviously pleased with this bit of news. “So the bike fit okay, then?”
I nodded. “Yes, it was fine.”
“I’ll have to try the lemon drink. Is there any left?”
“Of course!” My voice was a bit high-pitched. Why his interest in my lemonade made me nervous was beyond me.
He poured himself a glass in the kitchen and downed it in big gulps.
"This is great. Do you want to stay for dinner? I'm making chicken kabobs. They’ll go great with lemonade." He winked at me, and it definitely didn’t help with my nerves.
"Chicken kabobs? Wow. I'm impressed."
“Please stay, Lexi,” Paisley begged. “Dad is a really good cook.”
I was hungry, but I didn't want to interfere, even at Paisley’s insistence. Besides, I wasn't sure it was very smart to spend more time with him than necessary. He was my employer, and I didn't want to get into a messy situation.
"I'm hungry, but I think it's best to go," I said. Damn it, why did I admit I was hungry? I really couldn't get my wits together around this man.
He cocked a brow. "Why aren’t you staying if you're hungry?"
I swallowed hard, whispering, "I don't want to interfere during your time with your daughter."
“I’ll walk you out,” he offered, looking at me intently. I suspected that he actually wanted to be alone with me for whatever he wanted to say next.
“Okay.”
“Paisley, I’ll be right back,” he said. We stepped out into the corridor and walked toward the front door.
“Lexi, if you want to stay, you wouldn’t be interfering. Are you sure that’s the only reason you want to leave?”
Oh Lord, the way he says my name sounds so decadent.
I looked straight at him and wondering if I should take the bull by the horns and openly discuss everything.
“Or is it because I was inappropriate on our phone call?”
Okay... so I’m guessing he’s the take-charge guy all the way.
I liked that.
“Well, I was inappropriate by running my mouth in the first place,” I murmured. “Tate, listen, I’ve been a teacher for seven years, and I have a golden rule. I don’t get personally involved with parents.”
Finally, I found it in myself to look straight at him. Amusement danced in his eyes.
“Define ‘personally involved.’”
The tips of my ears felt hot. “You know what I mean.”
He looked at me for a few moments, and the temperature of my body seemed to rise with every passing second.
“It can get confusing for kids, and—”
“Lexi, I know. Paisley is my priority. I’d never do anything to confuse her. She’s everything to me.”
He can’t say that and expect me not to swoon.
“I can tell.”
“You and I can keep it professional.”
There was a slight edge in his voice that told me he didn’t quite believe that.
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t stay for dinner,” he added.
Hmm... here was the thing: if I stayed, I was sure to swoon some more, and that made me more susceptible to him. I couldn’t say that out loud, though. That would get us in trouble.
"I'll take you up on the invitation another time, but tonight I'm off. It was a great day. Enjoy your evening."
***
For the rest of the week, I skirted around Tate. I did have breakfast with them every day because he always prepared it right when I arrived, but I left before dinner.
On Wednesday, he worked from home in the morning, and I swear to God, I could feel his presence no matter where I was in the house.
Paisley and I were going to a museum, and she was taking her time choosing an outfit. I waited for her downstairs in the kitchen, leaning against the island and browsing an online foodie shop on my iPhone.
“What are you doing?” Tate asked, startling me. I hadn’t heard him come up.
“Waiting for Paisley. And using the time to search for a present for my parents. My mom was given the all clear from the doctors to add some goodies to her diet.”
“Was she sick?”
“Yes, she’s had two heart surgeries. The bills are adding up.”
“That’s why you took the job?”
I nodded. “I offered to help, but a teacher’s salary barely covers my bills. Anyway, I’m going to look for a present for them later.”
He narrowed his eyes. I tried so hard to keep eye contact, but he was wearing a white shirt, and the top button was open. I was dying to take a peek.
Eyes up, Lexi. Eyes up.
“Do they like wine?” he asked suddenly.
“Is the sun yellow? Yes, they do.”
“I can send them a special collection from Maxwell Wineries.”
My jaw dropped. “Wait... Tate Maxwell? Oh my God! You own Maxwell Wineries?”
He chuckled. “My last name didn’t give it away?”
“Honestly, I didn’t put two and two together. Until now. Wow. You’re related to those Maxwells.”
I’d loved their bookstores and spent a lot of time there as a teenager. The Maxwell family was something of a legend in Chicago. It never occurred to me that he was one of them. Aside from the huge house, he seemed very down-to-earth, and so was Paisley.
“Umm... okay,” I recovered. “And yes, they’d love a collection. How much does that cost?”
He cocked a brow. “Nothing. Tell me their address.”
“Wow, thank you. That’s so generous. They love Maxwell Wines. So do I. They’re my favorites,” I exclaimed, feeling a bit off-kilter. I was not used to generosity. There he went, making me swoon again. He was going to spoil my parents!