Meet Cute Read online

  She made eye contact with me and held up one finger, indicating she’d be with me as soon as she could, and I gave her a thumbs up. Unfortunately, there was no single gesture that served as universal shorthand for, “Take your time, lady, I’m not exactly looking forward to groveling,” so a thumbs up would have to do.

  “This is where you sit if you’re waiting,” came a high-pitched, matter-of-fact voice from behind me.

  I turned and saw the most adorable little girl sitting on a deep purple velvet bench. Well, technically, all I saw were the springy auburn ringlets covering the top of her head because her face was buried in the book she held, so tightly that her knuckles were white.

  I sat down next to her. “Thanks for the pro tip, kiddo.”

  She shot me a surreptitious glance. “What’s a protip?” she asked, blending the phrase together as if it were one word.

  “It means something only the professionals know. You have to be the expert on this place to know where people are supposed to sit to wait. I appreciate you looping me in.”

  She turned her face up to me, a shy smile gracing her delicate features. Damn, I’d been right—she was adorable. It was hard for me to believe that glasses guy had produced such a cute kid, but, hey. Such were the mysteries of genetics.

  “So, are you here to get taddooed?” She asked, turning the “t”s into “d”s and making the word so freaking cute I thought my ovaries might explode.

  “No,” I said, screwing my face up into an exaggerated grimace. “I’m here because I have to apologize to somebody.”

  “Oh,” she said knowingly. “You have to say you’re sorry.”

  “I do,” I confirmed. “Got any pro tips for that?”

  She tilted her head to the side, taking the question seriously. “Do you mean the sorry?” She asked slowly, “Because you don’t always have to mean it.”

  It took everything in me to keep my face straight. I wanted to burst out laughing. I mean…she definitely wasn’t wrong. It was just the intensely thoughtful way she’d delivered the question, combined with her high, sweet, childish voice…it was killing me with cuteness.

  Still, I knew enough about kids to know that any credibility I’d built up with her would be shot to hell in the split second she got even a hint that I was laughing at her, so I kept it all under lock and key.

  Acting training. It comes in handy at the weirdest times.

  “You’re right about that,” I agreed. “In this case, I definitely do mean the sorry.”

  “Okay. What did you do?”

  Well, crap. How could I explain a night of drunken over-exuberance to a kid her age?

  “I was, um, playing a game, and I made someone play it with me. And now I don’t think they really wanted to. I think they only did it to be nice, but it probably made them uncomfortable. So, I feel bad about that. I want to apologize. But I’m just not quite sure what to say.”

  She tilted her head to the other side, eyeing me thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “Why don’t you just say that?”

  Well, shit. Out of the mouths of babes. “Uh, yeah. I think that’s a really good idea. I will.”

  She nodded decisively, clearly satisfied with the interaction. I hoped the real thing with Nick went as smoothly as the dry run with this kid had gone.

  She held her book out to me. “Will you read me this?” She asked.

  I took the book from her and examined it. “Hmm…Looking for Bird in the Big City, huh? What’s this about?”

  “Read it,” she advised.

  I had to smother my laughter again. “Yep. Good advice,” I admitted and opened to the first page.

  As I flipped through the pages and read them out loud, I found myself entranced in the words and art. Even though the book was created for children, I found it really beautiful.

  The story was a fictionalized imagining of the real journey Miles Davis had taken to New York City as a teenager, wanting to meet his idol, Charlie “Bird” Parker, so that he could hear him play music, and maybe even get to play some music with him.

  By the time I got to the end, which detailed their chance encounter after all of teenaged Miles’ searching, my voice trembled a little with emotion. There was just something about music and the people that made it that was so powerful, and it hit me right in the feels every single freaking time.

  When I closed the last page, the girl patted my hand. “It’s a good story,” she said.

  “A great story,” I agreed. “Have you ever heard Charlie Parker’s or Miles Davis’ music?”

  She drew back, her lips scrunching up. “Who? The boys from the book?”

  I nodded. “Yes. They’re in the book. But they’re not just characters. This story happens to be about real people.”

  Her eyes widened. “They’re real?”

  “Yeah. Do you want to see real pictures of them? Hear some of their music?”

  She nodded so hard it almost shook her whole little body off the bench.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse and started a song playing. I turned the volume down low enough so that I could talk over it. “Okay. This song is by Miles Davis. It’s called ‘Blue in Green,’ from a very famous album called Kind of Blue.”

  Her eyes lit up. “That’s like me!”

  It was my turn to tilt my head in puzzlement. “Like you?”

  “My name. It’s Olive. And that’s a kind of green. So the song is like me. Green.”

  “That’s a very smart connection,” I said. “Do you want to see some pictures of Miles, and some of Bird?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  Her attention was glued to the phone as we scrolled through Google Images. As was mine, in fact. So much so that I didn’t even realize we weren’t alone in the reception area until a deep voice said, “Hello, ladies. How are we doing?”

  I looked up. There he was. Nick. In all his rippling muscled, tattooed glory, making me immediately light-headed and dry-mouthed.

  I’d gotten so involved with Olive that I’d forgotten who I was here for, and what I was here to do.

  I got another shock when Olive jumped down from the bench, face lighting up, and jumped into his arms, screaming, “Daddy!”

  Okay. That made more sense. The hottest man I’d ever seen, and the cutest kid. Maybe genetics weren’t quite so mysterious after all.

  Chapter 6

  Nick

  THIS FELT LIKE a hallucination, or some kind of dream. Like I’d let my fantasy of finding a way to solve Olive’s problems run away with me in the back room. Maybe I was still sitting in that chair behind the curtain, dreaming up the scene in front of me.

  Because, honestly, what I was looking at seemed too good to be true.

  Evelyn, the girl from the bar last weekend, sat on the reception bench next to Olive, like a goddess who’d found a way to magically step from mythology into reality. That was amazing enough in and of itself.

  But the really incredible part was that Olive wasn’t just sitting next to her, laser-focused on the pages of her picture book, an invisible wall up between the two of them. She was looking at Evelyn, talking to her, looking at Evelyn’s phone and listening to her explain the pictures.

  “Olive asked her to read the book out loud,” Belinda whispered behind me. “She let her hold it and everything.”

  Damn. That was amazing. That book was like Olive’s security blanket. Normally, you couldn’t pry the thing from her, no matter how hard you tried. Sometimes she even slept with it. And now she was just handing it over to a complete stranger?

  After watching for a few moments, I walked up and spoke to get their attention. Evelyn looked up and met my eyes, and holy fuck, the electricity I’d felt the other night hit me again like a hurricane. Any doubts I’d had about it being genuine as opposed to a trick of booze, the energy in the pub, or my relief at finally getting a rare night out evaporated.

  It was real. More real than anything I’d felt lately, that was for damn sure.

  Olive jumped up
into my arms and I held her there, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Evelyn. God damn, she was even more beautiful than I remembered. Or maybe the dim lights in Plaza Pub just hadn’t been enough for me to see the extent of her beauty, let alone appreciate it.

  That long, thick auburn hair. Those doe-brown eyes. Those full, luscious lips. Those pin-up model curves. She was like a rockabilly wet dream come to life.

  I set Olive down and she leaned against my leg. But she wasn’t hiding behind it, so apparently my presence hadn’t pulled her completely back into her shell.

  “Hi, Evelyn. Nice to see you again.” I was surprised at how steady my voice was.

  She gave a wry half smile. “Is it, though?”

  Olive tugged on my shirt and I transferred my focus to her. “She’s here because she has to say a sorry.”

  I glanced back to Evelyn. “Sorry? For what?”

  Olive jumped in and took that one, too. “She was playing a game and she made somebody play the game and they didn’t want to. So now she has to say a sorry.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I told her she doesn’t have to really mean it.”

  Evelyn’s lips twitched and her eyes danced, but her voice was completely serious when she said, “And that is good advice which might come in handy someday. I appreciate it. But in this situation, I mean it.” She looked up at me and met my eyes. She bit her lip and her voice took on a tinge of regret. “Seriously. I do mean it. I’m sorry.”

  I smiled. “It’s no big deal. Seriously. The game was fun. I swear.”

  Her face relaxed and she sighed. “Oh, good. I’ve been so worried.”

  A sharp twinge tore through my gut at the thought that she’d experienced even one minute of stress or anxiety on my account. The protective instincts that had fired up in me when that jackass had threatened her in the bar were apparently still in full effect.

  That’s when I had an idea. I’m not generally an arrogant kind of guy. I don’t brag about my accomplishments. But I had no problem classifying this idea as pure freaking brilliance.

  It solved so many problems, but the biggest two were the ongoing issues Olive had, and my desire to see Evelyn again as often as possible.

  “Hey, could I talk to you in the back for a minute? I have an idea I’d like to run by you.”

  Her eyes flared and little spots of color blossomed on her cheeks. Fuck, just when I’d thought she couldn’t get any prettier…

  “Yeah, I…yes. Yeah. Sure,” she stammered, and it was a real challenge keeping a smile off my face. One was pulling really hard at my lips, but I was pushing it down with every bit of will in me.

  I ruffled Olive’s hair. “Okay, my girl. Can you be patient just a little bit longer, and wait out here with Belinda again?”

  She nodded and hopped back up on the bench, flipping open her book and examining the pages with a whole new interest. My heart clutched watching her. Damn, she really was such a good kid. Just a big-hearted, smart-as-a-whip, sweet, funny all-around good kid who’d been dealt a shitty hand in life and was doing her best to handle it.

  Well, baby girl, that hand might be about to change. We’ll see.

  Evelyn followed me into the back room, which she eyed with interest. “Wow, this part doesn’t look like I thought it would, either.”

  I grinned. “What were you picturing? Smoky haze over the whole thing? Guys playing poker, drug deals going down in the corner?”

  She gulped, her eyes flying wide open. “Oh, God, no! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  I laughed. “You didn’t. My skin’s a lot thicker than that.”

  She laughed along with me, then. “And much more intricately decorated,” she quipped.

  I inclined my head. “Decoration. Hmmm. Never heard it put that way. But I kind of like it.”

  Our rapport was easy and smooth, just like it had been at the pub. I was glad that the energy between us seemed to be able to survive and thrive, even in the face of sobriety.

  Still, we couldn’t just stand back here shooting the shit all day. I had to get down to business. I wasn’t quite sure how to phrase what I was about to ask her, so I decided to just dive right in. “So, Evelyn, I’d like to offer you a job.”

  I’d thought about leading into it with the whole backstory—Olive losing her mom, her inability to connect with and trust most women, the depressingly long string of babysitters and nannies who’d stayed barely long enough to take off their coats. But I didn’t want to put more pressure than necessary on the offer before I’d even made it. I figured that simple and direct was probably the best course.

  Her jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” I confirmed.

  “But…but…I know literally nothing about tattoos.”

  Okay, so maybe a little bit more context would’ve been good.

  “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I was talking about Olive. If you’re interested, I’d like to offer you a regular babysitting gig.”

  She covered her face with her hands for a second, laughing. “Oh, God, yeah. That makes so much more sense.”

  “I don’t know what your schedule is like, but this would be afternoons and some evenings. Does that seem like something you’d be into?”

  “Yeah, absolutely! She’s a great kid. If I could spend time with her and actually make some extra money at the same time—I mean, that’s kinda like livin’ the dream, you know?”

  “Awesome. I mean it. That’s great.”

  “The only thing is, we’ll have to figure out what works with my class schedule. And rehearsals. But afternoons are the most open time for me, so I think there’s a good shot.”

  I grinned. “Well, I can be kind of flexible, too. One of the perks of owning the place. I’m sure we can hammer out a schedule that works for both of us.”

  Hell, at this point, if I had to depend on Belinda to practically run the place, I was willing to do it. Until a few minutes ago when Evelyn had come along, I’d been just about at the end of my rope. Now that I could see a light at the end of the tunnel, a possible end to this nightmare, I was willing to do pretty much anything to grab hold of that and make it happen.

  “Great,” she said, her cheeks flushed again in a way that made my heart beat faster.

  I wasn’t ready to think about what that racing heart meant yet. I only knew that it had been a hell of a long time since I’d felt it.

  Chapter 7

  Evelyn

  I PUSHED THE doorbell and heard the chime sound inside the house. I clutched my hands together to stop them from trembling. When they touched, I felt how clammy my palms were. “Good God, get it together, woman!” I mumbled to myself under my breath.

  I snapped my mouth shut as the door swung open. Standing on the porch alone while babbling was probably not the best way to instill confidence in Nick when it came to his decision to leave Olive with me.

  Truthfully, I didn’t know how much confidence I had in myself when it came to watching Olive—I wasn’t exactly a “kid person.” I had no formal training, and almost zero experience with other children Olive’s age.

  When I’d talked with her on the bench, I’d just treated her like any other person I might have a conversation with. She’d responded well to it. But who knew how much longer that would work?

  I shoved those thoughts back to the deepest recesses of my mind. For the time being, at least. I was sure they’d haunt me again in more insecure moments to come. But as for right at that moment, I needed to focus on portraying calm confidence.

  I mean, hell—pretty much the only reason I’d jumped at Nick’s impromptu offer was that it would mean spending more time with him, becoming part of his life. Plus, I’d already become pretty enamored with the kid in the short time I’d known her. So, I could do this. I knew I could. I just had to trust myself.

  Come on, Anderson! You’re an actress. You got this!

  Nick smiled wide as he stepped back and gestured me into the house. “Hey, Evel
yn. Good to see you again. Olive’s really excited for this afternoon.”

  “Oh, so am I!” I enthused as I stepped into the living room. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

  He smiled and I felt the warmth of it from across the room. My heart skipped a beat and I drew in a sharp breath.

  Was I crazy to think that there was something there? An energy passing back and forth between us that was so hot it just might spark a fire? Did he feel it too or was it completely one-sided? God, it couldn’t all just be in my head…could it?

  The questions flew through my brain so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to process them, let alone attempt to answer them. Not that I would’ve had any good answers anyway. I was just going on instinct, here. Flying by the seat of my pants.

  This was kind of like the ultimate improv exercise. I’d been doing those in theater classes since I was a kid, in my elementary school’s spring musical. This was definitely a lot more high-stakes scenario than any of those had been, though. I’d already Yes, and…-ed my way to a babysitting gig I was totally unqualified for. Who knew what else I could get myself into?

  A shiver ran through me as that thought popped into my head. Yeah. Where could all of this conceivably lead? I wasn’t sure, but I was sure as hell excited to find out.

  “Let me show you around,” Nick said. “Where the emergency numbers are, etc. Today shouldn’t be too tough. I’m only going to be at work for a few hours, then I’ll be home.”

  “Sounds good. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  I spoke with a confidence that I didn’t quite yet feel. What would’ve been more accurate was to say that I hoped everything would be fine. But I didn’t think that was what he’d want to hear from the person he was about to entrust with his daughter’s safety.

  “Hi,” came a soft, small voice from behind me, and I turned to see Olive standing at the bottom of the stairs, halfway hidden behind a console table.