Shouldn't Want You (Cataclysm Book 2) Read online

  “Bibleopoly, huh?” I give a short laugh. “I can’t say I’m familiar with that game.”

  Her smile now is more genuine, and it lights up her face. “It’s like Monopoly but with Bible references.” She shrugs, looking down at her fingers rolling the hem of her shirt. “When you live a sheltered life, you find your fun where you can.”

  Damn. This attraction I’m feeling just got even more inconvenient. Starting something with the nanny would be a terrible idea for so many reasons. And if she grew up that sheltered, she’s gotta be a virgin. All the more reason to talk to Blaire about setting me up with someone. Soon. Hell, if she doesn’t know anyone, I’m desperate enough to let our PR manager find me an up-and-coming starlet to be seen with, much as I detest those kinds of setups.

  Another thought occurs to me. She hasn’t gone to church the whole time she’s worked for me. Hell, I’m not sure she’s had more than one Sunday off in that time. “Do we need to rearrange your days off? So you can go to church on Sunday mornings? I could give you a ride if you need. Or arrange a car.”

  She gives a surprisingly bitter laugh in answer to my question, her eyes still firmly on her lap as she shakes her head. “No.” She gives me a quick glance, then looks forward at the TV, though her gaze is abstract. “No,” she repeats more softly. “I don’t go to church anymore.”

  The way she says it makes me think there’s a story there. I wait, seeing if she’ll volunteer more information. But she doesn’t, instead curling her legs back under herself and settling into the corner of the couch again. She glances at me out of the corner of her eyes, like she’s waiting for something from me. Questions, probably.

  Part of me wants to ask, but she doesn’t owe me an explanation. So I fight back the urge to touch her as an offer of comfort and scoot back down the couch to reach for my beer. Ava’s eyes track my movements, watching me lift the beer bottle to my mouth. At the last second, I cock it her way. “Want one? I can grab another.” I know she’s twenty-one, so she’s at least old enough to drink legally.

  With an adorable wrinkle of her nose, she shakes her head. “No, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.” I take a swig and reach for my carrots, flipping the TV back to the On Demand movies. “So if you only watched Bible stories and PBS at home, did you get a chance to catch up on movies in college? You moved a long way from home, surely you were able to get out from your parents’ stifling reach to some degree.”

  She sighs. “You have no idea.”

  I arch an eyebrow and crunch down on a carrot. “You could fill me in if you like. But that’s up to you.”

  “I saw movies with my friends in theaters every once in a while. But I was pretty busy with classes and working and … stuff.”

  That pause makes me wonder what kind of stuff she’s referring to, but again, I don’t pry. Instead, I flip my way down the list of available offerings. “What about Harry Potter? Did you see those? Maybe in a friend’s room in the dorms?”

  She gives me a look of mock horror. “Movies and books about witchcraft? Do you want me to go straight to hell?”

  I laugh. “They’re about the battle between good and evil. Surely that’s not so terrible.”

  Her mouth twists in a bitter smile that matches her earlier laugh. “You wouldn’t think so, would you?”

  “Want to watch it now?”

  She shrugs and looks at the TV. “Is it good?”

  Now I give her a look of mock horror. “Is it good? Is it good, she asks.” I shake my head. “It’s a classic. Just for that, we’ll have to watch the whole series.”

  She looks at me with a mixture of confusion and worry. “What, tonight? Isn’t it like five or six movies?”

  “Eight, actually. And no, of course not tonight. We’ll start with the first one tonight. And watch one a night until we’re done. Eli’s too young for them, so we’ll only be able to do it while he’s sleeping.”

  With one last long look at me, she shrugs and faces the TV again. “Sure. Why not?”

  We don’t quite manage to watch a movie every night. Ava’s too tired when we’re supposed to watch the fourth one, so I suggest a TV show instead. “Something funny and only half an hour. You can relax, have a glass of wine, then go to bed.”

  She gives me a tired smile, standing in the hallway and looking between me, the couch, and the TV. “Something funny?”

  “Or you can just go to bed if you’re too tired. I won’t be upset.”

  She crosses her arms, which pushes her boobs together, though I force my eyes to remain on her face while she gives me a little glare. “A few nights ago you told me that you thought I was avoiding you when I just went to bed.”

  I let out a chuckle. “That’s because you didn’t actually go to bed. I could hear you watching something on your laptop. So pick something. What do you like to watch when you’re in your room by yourself? You can watch it on a bigger screen. And I was serious about the wine. I have some if you want.”

  She bites her lip, considering. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  I hold up my hands. “I’m not trying to be a pusher. I can get you water or juice or milk, too.”

  That wins me another smile, this one accompanied by a giggle. “Do I get a sippy cup with the juice or milk?”

  My smile matches hers. “Only if you want one.”

  That produces a full throated laugh. “Fine. I’ll try a glass of wine. I prefer something lighter and sweeter, if you have it.”

  “Blaire makes me keep moscato in the house since that’s what she likes. I’ll get you a glass. Sit down and get comfy.”

  When I return with her glass of wine and a beer for me, she’s curled up in her usual corner of the couch. I set her glass in front of her on the coffee table before turning on the TV. “What do you want to watch?”

  She sips her wine, an expression of pleased surprise crossing her face, and she takes another sip before sitting back and cradling the wine glass in her hands. “I don’t know. You pick something. I’ve been working my way through Doctor Who recently, but those are longer and sometimes not that funny. And you promised me something funny.”

  I click through a few options and finally settle on Superstore. “I think this show is hilarious. Have you seen it?” When she shakes her head, I start with the pilot. Pulling out a fuzzy fleece blanket, I drape it over my legs propped up on the coffee table, beer in hand. Lifting one corner, I glance at her and raise an eyebrow. She shakes her head.

  Just as well. Spending time with her like this feels domestic and homey. Having her sharing a blanket would make me want to cuddle with her. And as I keep telling myself, that would be a terrible idea. Besides her likely virginal status, a hook up with the nanny would mess everything up. She’d probably freak out and quit, and then I’d be having to explain to Eli why the nanny he loves isn’t coming back.

  A few minutes into the show, I notice that she keeps stealing glances at me. “You alright over there?”

  Her lips press together for a second, and I can tell she’s debating whether or not to say whatever’s on her mind.

  Swallowing down the chuckle that wants to escape, I slouch down and lean my head back on the couch, letting it roll to the side so I’m facing her. “Spit it out. What do you need?” She’s so cute when she’s shy and flustered. It’s so different from the women I’m used to—between the brazen groupies who throw themselves at me and Blaire, who’s as far from shy as a person can get—Ava’s shyness is a breath of fresh air. I shouldn’t find it endearing, and yet I can’t help it.

  “Um …” Her little pink tongue darts out and swipes across her lower lip, the tiny action somehow mesmerizing. “Can I—I mean, would you mind if I stuck my feet under the corner of your blanket? They’re a little cold, and it looks so warm and fuzzy, and …”

  I lift my eyebrows, fighting to keep my smile only a slight upturn of the corners of my mouth. “Is that it? I already offered, anyway. It’s not a problem.” I sit up and scoot over so the b
lanket can reach her feet. “You can just sit next to me if you want more of the blanket. There’s plenty to go around.” We wouldn’t even have to touch. But I stop myself from saying that. Because the image of her snuggling against me is far more appealing than it should be. I don’t want to push her away, even though I should.

  Her cheeks look pink in the low light, though that could be the wine. “Just my feet is fine,” she says, her voice lower than normal.

  “Suit yourself. But the invitation stands.”

  When the show ends about twenty minutes later, I look over at her. She’s still in her corner, but not curled up. Her feet have inched closer to me, and she’s stretched out more than normal. “Ready for bed?”

  She holds up her glass and examines the contents. She could easily down it in one or two swallows, but she says, “I’m not done with my wine yet. Let’s watch another.”

  I don’t need any more convincing than that, so I start the next episode, enjoying the way Ava laughs at the antics of the characters. I like having her with me and hearing her laugh. I like that she’s relaxing. Not just tonight, but in general. She’s more comfortable with Eli, with our routine. With me. I can tell he’s working his charm on her, and she cares about him as much as I do.

  By the halfway point, she’s finished her wine, and she puts her feet on the floor to set the glass on the coffee table. And when she leans back again, she props her feet up on the coffee table next to mine and pulls the blanket over her legs.

  She’s sitting next to me. Sharing my blanket.

  It’s stupid, and I sound like a thirteen-year-old kid in junior high excited that his crush sat next to him, but that’s how I feel.

  I’m careful to maintain the space between us, keeping my arms crossed so I don’t accidentally bump her, barely daring to breathe for fear of making her aware that she’s so close to me and sending her scampering off to her room.

  But she doesn’t. She stays. She snuggles down into the couch, pulling the blanket higher, letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

  And I want to give myself a high five for giving her a place to feel that level of contentment.

  Maybe one of these nights she’ll lean against me, or lay her head on my shoulder, or let me put my arm around her. None of that should sound remotely appealing—there are so many reasons why that should never ever happen—but it really, really does.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ava

  Danny and I settle into a comfortable routine of watching movies or TV shows after Eli goes to bed. On nights when Danny comes home after bedtime, I sit on the couch, curled up under the gray fleece blanket we typically share, and wait for him before turning anything on.

  He brings me a glass of wine, grabs a beer for himself, lifts the blanket and slides in next to me, chiding me with, “You can watch something without me, you know.”

  “I know.” And I do. But this has become our thing. He picks shows that he’s seen that he thinks I might like, and we watch them together. Even though I know he’s already seen whatever we’re supposed to watch next, I like having him here next to me, seeing him react to the show, provoking his rare smiles and laughter.

  I’ve decided that he’s not the frowny grump I thought he was at first. He’s just serious, and he worries about Eli. The first week we started watching TV in the evenings, he sat down and sighed after putting Eli to bed one night. “He seems to be handling the change really well.”

  I nodded. “He is. I make sure to keep him busy, and we’ve video chatted with your mom a few times already. Whenever he asks for her, I text to see if she’s available unless it’s super late there. It’s not the same, but it seems to do the trick.”

  “She mentioned that you’ve done that. Thank you. I know it means a lot to her, too.”

  “No problem. Eli loves it. He loves your parents.”

  He rubbed his jaw, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, well, they’re more his parents than I am.”

  That had given me pause, not sure what to say. Or whether I should say anything. Finally the need to reassure him won out. “That’s not true. I know they took care of him when he was first born while you were on tour. But you’re his daddy. He’s a two-year-old, so you know his excitement every time you get home isn’t faked. Toddlers aren’t masters of deceit. He loves you just as much as he loves his Meemaw and Papa. He’d have just as much trouble, maybe more, if you left him with your parents again for this tour. I think it’s good that you insisted on bringing him. For both of you.”

  He gave me a long look, then let out a slow breath. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” After that, he started the next Harry Potter movie, and the conversation was effectively over.

  Tonight, though, I won’t be watching a movie with Danny. Blaire has declared tonight a girls’ night and she’s taking me to a dance club along with Kendra.

  After Danny got home this afternoon from appearing on a morning show with the rest of the band, Blaire and Kendra took me shopping for something to wear. Blaire’s coming over to do my makeup later.

  I’ve just gotten out of the shower and am putting on the pushup bra I’ve been ordered to wear under my eggplant purple fit and flare dress. It won’t be time to go for a while yet, but Danny’s got Eli and I want to try on the dress again before it’s time to go. Blaire wanted me to wear something completely form-fitting, but then told me I couldn’t wear panties with it. While I’ve come a long way from the prudish freshman who started at Highview three years ago and only wore white cotton granny panties, I’m not prepared to go without panties. Especially not in a short little dress that I’d constantly be pulling down.

  Blaire rolled her eyes at me, but gave in, calling me as stubborn and pig-headed as the boys. I’d just laughed.

  Adjusting the straps of the new bra, I turn this way and that, examining the effect in the mirror. Once I discarded the granny panties, I filled my drawer with pretty undies I got on sale. That little luxury had gone by the wayside when money was so tight. Now that my bank account is filled more regularly, I can afford to splurge on pretty bra and panty sets, even if no one will ever see them. And I definitely didn’t buy them and picture what Danny might look like if he ever saw me in these …

  Shaking off that thought, I turn to my closet to get my new dress when I’m interrupted by my phone ringing. I scoop it up from the bed and glance at the screen. It’s my mom.

  With a deep breath, I brace myself for a conversation of avoidance and half-truths. I still haven’t told them that I won’t be completing my degree. That I lost my scholarship shortly after losing their first grandchild. Who they wouldn’t have approved of anyway, since he or she was the product of an extra-marital affair.

  Hence the reason I’ve neglected to fill them in.

  I’ve told them that I took a new babysitting job, so that when they call and I’m with Eli it’s not surprising. My excuse was that the old family I was working for didn’t have enough hours for me during the summer. And I’ve assured my parents that once school starts, I’ll still be able to work for Eli’s family. Which is true, after all. Since school starting will have zero effect on me watching Eli.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say, grabbing my robe and wrapping it around myself before sitting on the bed. I feel weird sitting in just my underwear while talking to my parents.

  “Hi, sweetie, how are you?” My mom’s voice washes over me, evoking a mixture of longing, homesickness, and guilt. I wish I could unburden myself to her, tell her everything I’ve been going through. I used to talk to my mom about everything. Before I started dating Grayson, we talked several times a week. But then I spent more and more time with him, and I knew our relationship was wrong, so I kept things from her, called her less, claimed I was busy with homework or friends or work or tired from all of those things.

  And now here we are. My life is nothing like she thinks it is, and I can’t figure out how to tell her the truth. All the lies—because as much as I try to convince myself that I’m not outright lying by lett
ing her keep her false assumptions, she would definitely consider me a liar—have piled up so high that I can’t see my way around them. I can’t unravel the web of deception without making everything so. Much. Worse.

  I would be cut off completely. Shunned as a sinner and a liar and a whore. Never allowed to speak to my brother and sister again. And I don’t have the strength to do that to myself.

  Closing my eyes, I force a smile onto my face. “Good! Really good. I’m going out with some friends tonight.”

  “Oh! That’s great. You haven’t mentioned spending much time with friends lately, so I was worried you were working too much or just hiding out and being lonesome. What are you doing? Who are you going with?”

  “Oh, uh, well, I made a couple of new friends recently. Their names are Kendra and Blaire. We’re going to a restaurant.” That’s not true, exactly, but close enough. There’ll be drinks and maybe appetizers. Right? Clubs sometimes serve appetizers, don’t they? Who am I kidding, I’ve never been to a club. I have no idea what they do or don’t serve. I hope they serve some kind of food, though, or at least something non-alcoholic, because even after drinking a small glass of wine most nights, one’s my limit. Two if I’m really adventurous. But that’s it.

  “That sounds like fun. Where’d you meet them?”

  I cast about for something that sounds plausible, but is still kinda sorta true. “Um, I met them while watching Eli.” Technically I met Blaire when I wasn’t with Eli, but I met her because I watch Eli. And even though Danny handled Eli while we flew, I was still on hand with diapers and snacks and toys, so I was sorta working.

  “Oh? Are they moms? Or other babysitters you met at the park or something?”

  “Yeah. The park.” I close my eyes, feeling terrible for that. That’s a lie. There’s no way around it. Even if it is something she suggested. I’m the worst daughter ever.