"Willow."
"Willow what?"
"Willow Taylor."
Taylor. Taylor…
I tried to think. Wasn't there a Taylor family a few doors down?
No. They were the Tylers.
I said, "By any chance, you don't mean Tyler, do you?"
Willow frowned up at me. "I know my own name, Silly."
"Oh. Of course you do. Sorry."
And just like that, she was smiling again. "That's okay. Veronica gets my name wrong, too."
I felt my jaw clench. Worst. Nanny. Ever.
Right then and there, I decided that when I tracked down this Veronica person, I'd tell her exactly what I thought of her nannyship. Or nannyhood. Or whatever it was called.
I asked Willow, "So, where do you live?"
Willow extended her arm and pointed somewhere off to the left.
I looked to where she pointed, but couldn’t be sure which house she meant. I pointed in the same direction. "So, that big blue house on the water?"
Willow shook her head. "Nope. Not that one."
I kept my smile plastered in place. "The yellow one next to it?"
Again, she shook her head. "Nope."
I hesitated. "But, um…I'm pretty sure that's where you pointed." Or at least, it was one of the two houses.
Willow gave a snort of laughter. "Yeah, but I live way past that."
"Oh." The longer this went on, the more concerned I was getting. It was barely seven o'clock in the morning, and she was out here on her own.
Surely someone would be looking for her. With a smile, I said, "How about I'll grab my shoes and walk you home?"
Willow peered around me and gave a long, drawn-out sniff. Her eyes brightened. "Is that bacon?"
I knew I liked this kid.
But then I froze. Oh, crap. The bacon.
I held up a finger. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"
And with that, I left the front door open and practically sprinted to the stove, where the bacon wasn't quite yet burnt. Frantically, I shut off the burner and moved the pan aside. And then, I sprinted down the hallway and knocked on the bedroom door where Cami was sleeping.
She had a whole bunch of siblings and a degree in primary education. If anyone could handle this, it was Cami.
Chapter 56
Brody
"I'll tell you why," Chase said. "She's playing you."
This wasn't what I wanted to hear, especially at seven o'clock on a Friday morning.
I'd just flown back from California, and I felt like shit.
It wasn't because of jet leg. It was because of Arden.
I'd been pissed off all week, and I was having a hard time shaking it. Rather than returning to the crew house, I'd gone instead to my condo for a change of clothes and some time to figure out what the hell I'd be doing next.
But instead of finding peace and quiet, I'd found Chase in my kitchen, drinking the last of my orange juice straight from the carton.
In the kitchen doorway, I'd stopped short at the sight of him. "What are you doing?"
"Drinking juice," he'd said, like it should be obvious. "What are you doing?"
"I just got back from California." Eyeing the carton in his hand, I'd asked, "And don't you have juice of your own?"
"Sure," he'd said, "but I've also got a guest, and she won't stop talking." With his free hand, he'd made yapping motions in the air. "Shit," he'd said with a laugh, "I thought she'd never shut up." But then, he'd frowned. "What's wrong with you?"
And like a dumb-ass, I'd actually told him. Even dumber, I'd asked for his opinion on why Arden had gone off the deep end.
And this is when he'd informed me that Arden was – in his words – playing me.
Fast forward to now. I told Chase, "You don't know that."
"Sure I do," he said. "You said she's nuts about the house, right?"
Oh, yeah. She was nuts, and not just about the house.
I'd been thinking that for years, until she'd shown me a different side, a side that I couldn’t get enough of, a side that, even now, I missed more than I should.
With a shrug, I replied, "Yeah, so?"
"So hey, you've got to give her credit for trying."
I frowned. "Trying what?"
"To get you thinking with your dick, and not the brain upstairs."
Shit.
All week, I'd been toying with the same theory – not liking it, but not willing to let it go either.
But I should've seen the signs.
After all, Arden wasn't the first girl to try such a stunt. For years, I'd been dealing with chicks pretending to be this or that. A few of them had worked it pretty hard, too, trying to convince me that they were "the one."
They weren't.
And the way it looked, neither was Arden, even if I'd been thinking just the opposite.
But I had to face facts. Chase was right, even if it wasn't what I wanted to hear.
With a scoff, I considered how Arden had been acting until just recently. And I did mean acting.
Nuts or not, she'd put on one hell of a show. When I considered all of the hours she'd spent looking at floor plans, paint samples, kitchen layouts, and shit-knows-what-else, I wanted to kick myself for not seeing through the act.
Good thing she couldn't keep it up.
If she'd been just a little more patient, I would've given her more than the house – and counted myself a lucky guy.
I wasn't feeling so lucky now.
In the kitchen, Chase said, "Aw come on. Girls are like busses, right?"
I was only half listening. "What?"
"Another one will roll up any minute." He glanced toward my condo's main door. "Hey, you want the rest of mine?"
I wasn't following. "Your what?"
"My date."
I gave him a look. "No."
"You sure?" He grinned. "She's hot and ready."
Chase and I never shared. I saw his twisted offer for what it was, an attempt to distract me from my own sorry mood.
I loved him for it, but that didn't mean it was working. The way I felt now, it would take more than a crude joke to make me laugh.
When my only reply was a tight smile, he added, "If you act now,
