Hot Daddy by Ashlee Price

Author:Ashlee Price [Price, Ashlee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Katya

I sat in my car, head propped up on the wheel. I liked to come early on Mondays to deal with the detritus of the weekend, but this Monday, I wished I hadn’t. It had been a weird week, Joe riding out his suspension, Victor acting guilty, and I’d never quite gotten over my flu. I wasn’t sick, not exactly, but I was dragging. Zoning out. Everything felt like an effort, from brushing my teeth in the morning to driving home at night.

Maybe I was pregnant. Wouldn’t that be a laugh? Me, waddling around the mansion, wrangling mops and brooms and seven pounds of baby. Chasing Joe, with my belly out to there. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. It had just been one time with Victor, and he’d used protection.

I closed my eyes, trying to remember my last period. Surely there’d been one, sometime in the last, what, twelve weeks? I’d bought tampons the day I got the job. I bought them and opened the box and stashed a few in my purse, just like I always did. So I had, only…

I opened my purse and unzipped the inner pocket. Three tampons. The same ones?

Couldn’t be.

I shook off the notion and made my way up the driveway. The cool morning breeze revived me. I felt the fog lift. Of course I wasn’t pregnant. I was working hard, that was all, early mornings and late nights. And later nights, with Victor. And the job wasn’t easy, cleaning up after two guys.

I found the kitchen in disarray. Joe and Victor had gone to town in the night, covering the table in fast food wrappers. They’d left crumbs on the floor and pancake batter on the stove, a banana peel by the trash can. I stepped over the threshold and trod on an eggshell. It was like they’d made the biggest mess they could and pointed an industrial fan at it. For all I knew, they had.

“Yeah. That can wait.” I turned my back on the kitchen and headed to the laundry instead. Someone had started a load and left it in the dryer. Victor, from the looks of it. I pulled out armfuls of his shirts and piled them by the ironing board. Ironing was okay, better than disinfecting the kitchen. I could look out the window while I did it, watch the ocean through the trees. Sometimes I’d daydream, pretend this was home. Pretend Victor was my husband and Joe called me Mom. He almost had the other day. He’d caught himself and blushed, and I’d pretended not to hear, but the truth was, it felt good.

Victor wandered by around six, headed for the pool. He spotted me and waved and veered in my direction.

“Morning,” I called.

He let himself in. “And good morning to you.” He glanced at his shirts, mostly folded on the dryer. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh, not long. Half an hour.”

“Mm…” He sidled up behind me. “I like the way you do that. How you get them so crisp.

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