Page 23 of Single Daddy Scot
‘She’s mystepmother, but she implied the job was already mine.’ I should’ve known to ask more questions. Nothing is ever cut and dried with her—or Dad, come to think of it.
‘Aye, and so it is. The job’s yours.’
‘Yes, butyouonly just decided that.’ My exasperation is barely concealed as I come close to losing my shit, the prickle of hot tears building behind my lids. I can’t keep imposing on Jules. Christ, I’ll have to go home and live there for a few months, which means I’ll have to work with my dad. Make coffee for his underlings while they take out their frustrations on me. The realisation, the picture my thoughts paint, makes me feel really ill. ‘Apparently, she decided I’d be your au pair sooner.’
‘I’m not sure how that can be so,’ he answers gruffly. ‘And I’m not sure what difference this makes because you’re hired, fu- bugger what she thinks.’
‘But you’re not looking for a live-in au pair, are you?’ By the way he’d asked about my case, this is obvious.
‘Live-in? What, like here with me? With us?’ he adds quickly, his gaze sliding to his son and back again.
‘I need a position with somewhere to live. And I should’ve known better than to take what Jackie said at face value.’
‘Jax? Mrs. Alescio, I mean.’ Oh, God.Just call me Jax.I can hear her telling the handsome new gardener. And the man who cleans the indoor pool. Please don’t let her have had her claws into hot dad, too.
‘Look, maybe it’s best if I just leave,’ I say, grabbing my purse from my case and slinging it over my shoulder. I know something’s brewing at home, but I don’t want to be complicit in dear old Dad’s next divorce by living with someone his wife has screwed. I don’t mean living with him. Working. That’s what I meant.
At this point, I realise Louis is standing, too, his little hand hanging onto mine.
‘It was lovely to meet you both. Especially you,’ I say, turning to Louis. ‘You should ask your daddy to take you to the supermarket to buy doggy biscuits. Be sure to save those forRififi. Don’t share. Take it from me, doggy biscuits aren’t good eating.’
‘You ate doggy biscuits?’ His wide eyes stare up at me, stunned.
‘Yes. It’s a long story.’ Involving cruel people and starring me as the brunt of their joke.
Raphaela looks like a fella.
Raph-e-the-elephant packed her trunk and trundled her arse back to the jun-gle.
Disconcerted at the sudden flood of memories, I pull my hand from his ostensibly to straighten my shirt, though really to take my leave, when his father speaks again.
‘Wait. The position has to be live-in?’ I nod curtly, trying not to appear as desperate as I feel, pulling my little case upright by the handle. ‘We can try it,’ he says, examining his son again. ‘We’ll need to look at some kind of contract. Something with a fixed term and not indefinite.’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, especially given . . .’
‘It was a misunderstanding. Your mum, stepmum, I mean, probably made a mistake. It’s just been a hard few weeks and, no offence, but I don’t really know her from Adam, so I don’t really know what she was thinking, y’ken?’ Relief floods my body. A little too much of it, quite honestly. But Ken? I’ve no idea who he is or what he’s got to do with it, and I can’t quite bring myself to answer.
‘Look,’ he says, raking a hand through his hair. ‘I need help, and you need a job. Louis has taken a shine to you, you seem to speak childandFrench, and your references are pretty great.’
‘And I have the DBS check.’ He stares back blankly. ‘The background check for people who work with children?’ He doesn’t appear to know much about how this works. ‘But the position needs to be live-in.’
‘The guestroom, it’s yours if you want to give it a go,’ he says quickly. ‘Please say you will.’ From gruff to pleading in a matter of minutes? That’s a first.
‘Okay!’ I try not to appear too enthusiastic because it’d no doubt lead to me oversharing as to why I can barely contain this flood of happiness.This is just a temporary reprieve, I remind myself. I have other things in my life to sort out.
‘Do you think you’d like that, Louis? Would you like Raphaela to live with us for a wee bit?’
‘Wafaela? Like the Ninja Turkle?’ he asks, turning to me with wide eyes.
‘My friends call me Ella, but you can call me Raph if you like?’
Louis doesn’t answer. Instead, he throws himself forward and wraps his arms around my waist.
