And hell, if he’s going to be spending every day with my kid, I may as well make an effort to get along with him…right?
Chapter 9
Ash
There’s a slight breeze in the air, counteracting how the early morning sun feels shining on me as I go into downward dog. Bubba is sitting about three feet in front of me, staring at me with confusion as the yoga instructor on my iPad talks to the class. It’s a recorded class, not a live one, but it does the job just as well.
It’s day three of being Tucker’s nanny, and since Tucker doesn’t wake up until closer to nine, I have enough time to get in a yoga sesh, then relax on the porch with a hot tea by myself before I have to get him breakfast and start the day. It’s been nice. In Portland, I’d go down to the park to do yoga, so being able to walk out to the front lawn has been convenient, to say the least, and easily something I could get used to.
I’m about to bring myself into child’s pose by lowering my knees back down to the ground, when I hear a voice clearing, startling me. Dropping my head, still in pose, I look behind me, spotting Finn standing there with a puzzled expression onhis face. My knees collide with the mat before I swirl around, pushing to a stand.
“Oh, hi,” I sputter awkwardly, all too aware of the fact that I’m standing before my boss in extremely tight compression shorts and nothing else. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
Finn’s eyes trail up my body, shaking his head as they land on my face. “Uh, yeah.” Clearing his throat, he says, “I forgot my phone.”
Bubba prances in front of him, tail wagging, clearly thrilled to see his owner again so soon.
He doesn’t make any attempt to go into the house to retrieve said phone. Instead, we stand stock still, staring at one another for entirely too long before I finally find my voice.
“Tucker isn’t up yet,” I offer by way of explanation as to why I’m standing half naked on his front lawn. As if his child’s sleep patterns are unknown to him. “So, I’m getting in a quick morning yoga class before he wakes up.”
His brow furrows beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. A cowboy hat I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing him wearing. Finn’s already gone by the time I wake up, so I don’t see it on him in the morning, and then when he gets home, he immediately takes it off. Kind of wish he’d wear it more. It’s a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. “You do yoga?” he asks, as if it’s the strangest concept.
“Mmhmm.” I nod. “I try to every morning. It’s a great way to start the day, you know.”
“No, I don’t know,” he replies plainly.
“You should try it sometime.”
Flattening his lips together, he looks at me like I suggested he should attempt to fly to the moon with a homemade rocket. “I’m…” He gestures to the house behind me, clearing his throat again. “I’m going to get my phone and get back to work.”
I smile at him, feeling like this entire interaction has been a little weird. “Okay. I’m done here. I’m going to make some tea before Tucker gets up, and then we’re running into town.”
Bending down, I roll up the yoga mat as I hear the screen door open and close behind me. Finn is an interesting man. It’s like I can never fully get a read on him; sometimes it feels like he can’t stand me, or it’s like my presence is more of a bother than anything, like just now. Then other times, like the other night, it’s like I’m growing on him. Granted, I’ve only been here a few days, and realistically, it will probably take way more time than that to build any sort of relationship with him, good or bad. I just need to be patient, I suppose.
After he grabs his phone, he tips his hat at me before leaving without another word. As I’m fixing my cup of hot tea, Tucker pads into the kitchen, barefoot and his hair a mess atop his head. Sleep lines from his pillow cover the side of his face, and his pajama shirt is twisted and lifted a bit, revealing his belly. Man, it looks like he slepthardlast night.
“Morning, T.” I grin at him, earning me a sleepy, crooked smile. “How’d you sleep?”
He gives me a thumbs up before climbing onto the barstool at the counter. Stretching his arms over his head, he yawns.
“You hungry?” I ask, and he nods lazily. “What do you want? I can make you some oatmeal or some French toast. Maybe a bacon and egg scramble?”
Tucker rests his head on his hand as he thinks it over for a moment. “Oatmeal!”
“You got it, dude!” Opening the pantry, I say, “We’ve got strawberry, blueberry, or banana oatmeal. Pick your poison.”
“Pick my poison?” he parrots with a laugh. “I don’t want poison!”
Chuckling, I spin around to face him. “It just means pick whichever one you want.”
Tucker hums, tapping a finger to his chin. “Strawberry!”
“Good choice, kiddo.”
After I make him the oatmeal and slice up some fruit to have with it, I clean up the kitchen as he eats. I want to run to the craft store and the grocery store to pick up a few things that I think would be fun for Tuck and I to do together. So, after I get him dressed for the day, we head out to do just that.
One of the activities I really enjoyed doing with the kids in my class in Portland is making homemade playdough. It’s so simple to make, and the kids love getting to be a part of that process before also getting to play with it. At the craft store, I also stop and browse the pottery aisle. It’s something I used to do all the time. There was a place a few blocks from my apartment that had weekly pottery classes, but it closed a few months ago. I got pretty good, and I enjoyed it, but I never had the space to do it in Portland. My apartment was too small.
