The Contractor (Seductive Sands Book 2) Read online

  “What?” she asked, her face a blotchy combination of white hot rage and soul-crushing sorrow.

  “So, what’s this number?” I pointed to the paper.

  Mo sat up on her bed and frowned. “Coco to Go, the café…”

  “Right.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “So, she really is homeless.” My brow arched in challenge. “Did you get information for a background check besides her name? What kind of name is that anyway?”

  Mo rolled her eyes and sighed. “The government did that for us. She’s here on a fiancé visa. She’s British.”

  For some reason, I felt relieved. “Well, that’s good.”

  With a laugh, Mo shook her head. “Not for her. She planned to marry Stan, he’s a fisherman.”

  I frowned at the use of past tense while trying to place him. “Sounds familiar. Shaggy dark hair. Barely speaks.”

  “That’s the guy.” She reclined on the bed again. “They met when he was over there for a bachelor party. He lured her over here with promises of marriage. It’s a ninety-day visa and her time is nearly up.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “So, how is this going to help me?”

  “Hire her. It helps both of you.”

  I started to open my mouth, but was quickly silenced by her glare.

  “If she’s working for you as a nanny, she suddenly has a job and can change it to a work visa. You both win.” Mo shrugged like this all made perfect sense.

  “Why doesn’t she just go home if they aren’t going to marry?” I leaned hard against the door frame as I tried to reason everything out.

  “Simple. She was a college student, did the occasional babysitting to get through school, met Stan and spent every last dime she had on the one-way airplane ticket and the visa. Did you know those things cost like…two grand after all the fees?” She shook her head sadly. “You need her. She needs you.”

  I swallowed hard. “I feel bad for her, but I don’t know if pity is a good reason to employ her.”

  “Well, you can feel better qualified to make that decision after you meet her tomorrow. She’s coming for dinner. Be home by six, or sleep with one eye open until I leave.” She cracked her knuckles threateningly.

  “Okay,” I murmured weakly before retreating to my bedroom. Little did she know, I didn’t feel threatened. Since Megyn died, I’d barely slept anyway.

  4

  Beatrice

  I didn’t know why, but this felt like a first date as much as it felt like a second job interview. I went through three different outfits before I finally settled on a simple white sundress and pale pink flats. I pulled my blonde hair into a loose ponytail that hung at the base of my neck and applied minimal but necessary makeup – lip gloss and mascara. I pulled on a denim jacket. It was late spring and that could mean a hot night or one that required a light jacket. I liked being as prepared as I could.

  When I headed down the stairs of the cafe, Marlene was just closing up. I offered to help her but she waved me off.

  “You look lovely, dear,” she said when she noticed my outfit. “Date?”

  I smiled. “Job interview,” I corrected. “Marlene, I don’t think I’m even going to consider a date at this point. Maybe not ever again.”

  Marlene made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Nonsense,” she said dismissively. “Stan might be an ass who doesn’t know what a good thing he had before he let you go, but that doesn’t mean all men are like him.” She stopped sweeping and put one hand on her hip. “Who are you interviewing with?”

  “Mo Cunningham interviewed me initially,” I explained. “She’ll be there, but it’s for her brother-in-law, Will Treadway?”

  Marlene’s brow shot straight past her grey hairline. “Will’s finally getting a nanny for Thea?” she asked, raising a brow. “Good for him. He’d been using Mo for far too long. Beautiful woman like her needs her own life.” She smiled at me. “Good luck, Bea. He’s a tough guy, but a sweetie underneath. Don’t let the rugged exterior fool you.”

  I pressed my lips together. “Is he some kind of mountain man?” I asked. “Even in Westport, where there only seems to be water?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Marlene murmured. “Go on, then! Off you go! See you later tonight! Don’t wake me up if you’re late-late!”

  I shook my head and left. Since I didn’t have a car yet, I planned to walk to the house. It would only take fifteen minutes, down one main street and then into a nice area. It wasn’t waterfront so I didn’t have to worry about it being too cold, especially since I was in a dress.

  The walk was quicker than I expected it to be. I waved to some of the parents I knew from the school who just finished dinner at Big Boy’s with their families before wandering down a residential street, filled with tall trees and different-sized houses. I loved the variety here. Back in Surrey, each house was the same for long blocks. It was nice to see big houses, small houses, blue houses, and white houses. It helped me imagine what sort of place I might like once I figured out where I was going to live.

  When I finally reached the Treadways’ place, I gave myself a moment to take it in. It was a two-story house tucked deep in the middle of a residential neighborhood. There hardly seemed to be any traffic on the gravel streets, which meant children who played in their front yards when the weather permitted were safe from oncoming vehicles.

  The house itself was unique in design, as if the owner constructed it himself. It was a bright white color, with shutters and a two-car garage door painted navy blue. A woman’s touch, it seemed.

  I walked up to the door and gently knocked.

  In little more than a moment, Mo answered, a big smile on her face.

  “Beatrice, I’m so glad you’re here!” she exclaimed, pulling me into an unexpected hug.

  My entire body tensed at the contact until I forced myself to return the hug just as she released me.

  “Come on, come in,” she said, beckoning me inside.

  While the exterior of the house looked as though a woman had chosen the colors, the interior was all man. Deep oak floors, dark furniture. It practically reeked of testosterone.

  Mo led me down a long hallway where pictures hung in thin black frames all over the walls. An attractive man with dark hair and pale green eyes stood next to a beautiful woman with dark brown hair and a big smile. A girl no more than six - probably their daughter - filled up the majority of the frames. The woman was seen in about three or four of the pictures, and the man was only in one - what looked like their official family portrait.

  The hallway led straight to a large kitchen with an attached dining room. The kitchen had a marble bar dividing the two rooms, with stainless steel kitchen appliances - a fridge, a microwave, a toaster oven. The cabinets were made of dark wood and hung over the flat gas stove, oven, and the sink. The dining room had a dark table with a white table cloth. Sitting at the table were the man and the girl from the photos.

  The man immediately stood when he saw me, bumping his knee on the table, causing the little girl to laugh. It was a delightful sound, contagious, and I could not help but smile in return. It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous. I needed to look somewhere else – anywhere else.

  “Will,” Mo said, turning to the man. “This is the woman I was telling you about. Her name is Beatrice Browne. Beatrice, meet Will, my brother-in-law, and this is his daughter, Theadocia, but everyone calls her Thea.”

  Will stuck out his hand and I took it. I felt my cheeks turn pink under his friendly stare. He looked just the way he did in the picture, except now there was scruff on the lower half of his face. It worked well for him, surprisingly enough. He wore a green V-neck shirt and blue jeans that hugged him in all the right places but didn’t suffocate the lower half of his body. He had dusty brown hair, short but messy, and as I shook his hand, I immediately noticed the calluses that littered his palms. I also noticed the muscles that caused his shirt to tighten, especially around the arms, but that wasn’t important.

  “No
w that introductions are made,” Mo said, walking over to the kitchen where food sat, waiting to be served, “let’s eat!”

  5

  Will

  I don’t want to be here. This phrase repeated in my head. I meant it too. Though I couldn’t claim to be happy, aside from the last couple of days, I’d been content with my life. I hated change. Losing Megyn was more change than anyone should have to endure. Finally, I release Beatrice’s hand and stepped back. “Okay, let’s eat,” I mumbled. Glancing at Mo, I saw how excited she was, for the first time in so long, and it saddened me to think I’d been holding her back. Seeing how eager and determined she was to leave pained me greatly. Our situation was only made more awkward by the new nanny.

  Beatrice was beautiful. I’d guess she was in her early twenties. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in what I surmised to be natural waves. And when she fixed her dark eyes on me, my breath caught in my throat.

  Clearing it, I asked, “How long have you been in Westport, Beatrice?”

  She was in the middle of scooping some green beans on her plate. When I spoke to her, she jumped and beans spilled off the spoon, landing on the tablecloth. “I can fix that,” she responded nervously.

  I shook my head. “We’ll toss it in the washer. No problem. We never use one. This was Mo’s idea. She’s trying to make me appear civilized.” I smirked. “Is it working?”

  A shy smile spread across her face. “You’re doing fine, sir.”

  “Dear God. Call me Will. My father was ‘sir’ and I think it adds thirty years to my age when someone refers to me by that term.” I chuckled and then stopped. Why was I being nice? Why wasn’t I fighting this harder? I wasn’t ready for her to live here. I wasn’t ready for Mo to leave. My head hung and Mo, sitting to my right, laid a hand on my forearm.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t have brought Beatrice here if I didn’t think she was perfect for Thea and could tolerate you.”

  I eyed her sadly. “So, I’m merely tolerable now?”

  “You’re not bad for a giant, stubborn mule of a man,” she teased. “Your best trait is the love you have for your daughter. You should focus on that.” Mo winked at me.

  I nodded and took a sip of water. Usually, I had soda with dinner because until they figured out a caffeine drip for me, I was going to consume it in all its glorious forms throughout the day. I’d reached for a can, but Mo stopped me because it made me burp. “This is a job interview, not a date,” I’d reminded her. Only when her brow shot up did I set the soda down in the fridge. So, now I was feeling sluggish and sad. Most of this fell squarely on Mo. And somehow, I was supposed to be ensuring this woman was a good fit for Thea? Looking to my daughter, I saw eagerness in her eyes. “Would you like to ask her some questions, baby, since you’re the one who’ll be spending all the time with her?”

  Thea nodded happily. “I’ve seen you at school.” She grinned.

  I leaned over and whispered loudly, “That’s not a question.”

  She laughed and leaned back to whisper, “I just wanna talk to her. How do I know what I want to ask unless we talk?”

  I grinned. “You make a strong point. Carry on.”

  At the end of the table, Beatrice smiled warmly. “Yes, I work as a teaching assistant for one of the other teachers during the day.”

  “Do you like it?” Thea sat there, jiggling, her feet swinging wildly under the table.

  Tilting her head, Beatrice considered her response. “I do. I didn’t think I would.” She laughed. “I studied literature and I feel bad for not using my degree.”

  “You studied books?” Thea scrunched up her face.

  “Yes. I love them. I’ve even considered writing them one day.” Beatrice grinned, then stuck a fork of baked chicken in her mouth and chewed quietly.

  “You could read to me. I used to love it when my mommy read to me. Aunt Mo does it sometimes, too, but Mommy was best. She’d do the voices.” Thea brightened hopefully before posing her next question. “Do you do voices?”

  Still chewing, Beatrice nodded, then swallowed. “I do. In fact, I’d be happy to read a book to you after dinner, voices and all, if you’d like.”

  Dancing in her chair, Thea responded, “I’d like that so very much!” Then she sobered. “What about bedtimes and vegetables? What about driving me to school?”

  “Well, I don’t have a car…” Beatrice glanced at me to see if this would be a problem.

  I inhaled deeply. “I have a spare vehicle. Mo used it before she bought her own. It’s still in good shape. Do you have a license?”

  “I did in England. How does that work?” She frowned.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted and watched as her eyes widened. “What?”

  “A man who admits he doesn’t know everything? You truly are a gem.” She shook her head in wonder. “I think I like you already, Will Treadway.”

  My cheeks colored. “Don’t worry. It’ll wear off. Look at Mo, she’s moving two states away.”

  Mo growled and glared at me before turning her attention to Beatrice. “I’m getting married and my husband would like me to live with him, not Will. You understand, right?”

  “I completely understand.” Beatrice grew suddenly sad. “But I’d probably make sure this was the real thing before rushing off and moving. Is it?”

  With a frown, Mo nodded. “I’m sorry, Beatrice. I know, and I told Will so you wouldn’t have to go into it. If you’re looking for a place to heal, a place full of love, somewhere you can make a difference while fitting in, you found it.”

  Beatrice dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before responding. “I’d be happy for some job security and a stable living situation.”

  6

  Beatrice

  I needed to remind myself that not everyone was Stan; that not everyone was going to tempt women with promises of marriage and romance and a dependable, stable relationship, and then never fulfill those promises. Mo seemed genuinely happy. Who was I to take that away from her with all of my questions?

  “Nothing has been decided, you know,” Will murmured as he pushed his food around with his fork. He didn’t look me in the eyes as he said the words, almost like he was ashamed that he said them at all. “We still need to run a background check, call your employers for the past five years, that kind of thing.”

  Mo rolled her eyes. “What do you think I did all day while Thea was at school and you were off working?” she asked. “I gave you a folder with all of that information. Did you even read it?”

  “I’m not very fond of reading,” he said slowly.

  “Hence, the need to employ someone to read Thea books every night,” she mumbled and then leaned over in my direction conspiratorially. “This is what you have to deal with, unfortunately. I know I told you it would only be one child you had to take care of; the truth of the matter is, it’s two. You have a mature, intelligent young girl over there who stays active and loves to read, and you have a big baby over there who avoids all of his problems by working long hours.”

  I smiled, but my eyes remained on Will. “I actually understand that, Will,” I told him, hoping my small smile was sincere enough to convey what I couldn’t say.

  Will locked eyes with me. I felt my breath leave me. He had the most beautiful eyes. There was understanding in the pale green depths, but he didn’t say anything, which I actually appreciated. Ever since I left Stan, I had been getting lots of different advice from everyone who thought to share their opinions and offer advice, like Marlene and the other women I worked with at the school. I understood this was a small town, but I barely knew these people who made comments about Stan’s history and how the fact that he actually moved me out here was a big deal, truly.

  “Will’s bitterness has left me craving something sweet,” Mo announced, standing. “Who’s ready for some dessert?”

  “I am, I am!” Thea bellowed, raising her hand like an eager child yearning to answer a question in class.
She turned to me, her bright eyes shining with happiness. “Auntie Mo makes the best chocolate cake in the whole world. She adds extra chocolate chips.”

  “Hey!” Mo called from the kitchen, her tone good-natured. “That’s my secret ingredient! Don’t be giving away all my secrets!”

  “She has to learn how to cook it when you leave,” Thea replied as if it was an obvious concept to understand.

  “Let’s not bring up Auntie Mo leaving right now, Thea,” Will murmured in a low voice before taking a long sip of his water.

  I knew he was still mourning the loss of his wife. Mo had talked to me about it briefly during our earlier meeting the day before without going into too much detail. I couldn’t imagine what that was like, losing a spouse to cancer and not being able to stop it, despite having money and insurance. I didn’t take his dismissal of me personally. I knew that being a widower and then having someone else so closely related to his wife leave two years later was almost akin to being abandoned twice by the same person. He might push me away because he thought I would leave eventually since everyone else did. I wondered if that was why he threw himself into work. If that was why he avoided Thea as well, afraid something would happen to her and he couldn’t prevent her from leaving him as well. Or worse - she chose to leave him.

  I didn’t quite think of this as a permanent position. Thea would be able to take care of herself in roughly six years. She wouldn’t need me, but this might be the best job I could get in order to save up quickly and go home.

  Mo interrupted my thoughts by depositing a slab of cake in front of me. After one forkful, I knew Thea was right. The cake was perfect. Not too rich, but just enough to be sweet. We washed it down with milk and after she was done, Thea excused herself to brush her teeth. Mo went with her to help.

  “Listen,” Will began when it was just the two of us. His tone was firm but warm and his eyes were no-nonsense. “Forgive me if this comes across as dickish, but I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Thea and I are looking for someone who can commit to our family. After her mother...” His voice choked on the words and I swallowed hard. The last thing he needed right now was pity. “Mo is irreplaceable. Megyn was...” He shook his head. “I don’t want you to feel the pressure of living up to what they’ve given us, what they’ve done for us, because you will never match up. And that’s okay. But before I allow you into my home, before I allow you to develop a close relationship with my daughter, I need to be able to look you in the eye and believe you when you tell me that this job is something serious to you. If you’re planning on leaving in the next six months, hell, even a year, then this job isn’t for you. I’m not saying you won’t get sick days or vacation time, but I just - we just - need someone we can count on for the long haul.” He paused, giving me a long look. I wouldn’t necessarily consider it hard, but it was certainly serious. “Is that person you?”