He doesn’t.
Instead, he stands with his shoulder pressed against the wall in front of me, arms crossed over his wide chest, as he staresat me like a drill sergeant. The look on his face is one of pure distaste. Or annoyance. Maybe both.
This is already going so well.
“Violet tells me you graduated from the University of Oregon,” he starts. “Why don’t ya tell me a little bit ’bout that.”
Nodding, I say, “Yeah— Yes, I graduated from there with honors about two and a half years ago. I majored in Early Childhood Education and minored in Psychology. It was a great program, and I learned so much. Very much enjoyed my time there.”
“And what did ya do after you graduated?”
“I was placed at a Montessori school right after graduation that I’ve worked at ever since.” Letting out a nervous chuckle, I add, “Well, that is, until they laid me off last week.”
Finn doesn’t look amused. Not a smile in sight.
“What I’m lookin’ for is a little different than what you’re probably used to,” he explains. “As I’m sure you know, I work for this ranch. Ranchers’ hours are long and constant. There are some weeks I’ll have to work every single day, and that’s just the reality of it. Lately, I’ve been able to take the weekends off because of the staff we have, but that won’t always be the case. I leave before the sun comes up most mornings, and I don’t get home till darn near sundown. I need somebody who can move in, and who is willing to entertain Tucker all day long. I prefer him to be as active as possible durin’ the day; I’m not a big fan of tons of screen time. Activities, crafts?—”
“Oh, I’m a big craft guy,” I blurt out, completely cutting him off.
I’m a big craft guy? What the fuck was that?
Finn’s brow furrows, but he continues. “As I was sayin’, there’s lots to do around here. It’s a large piece of land. I’ve got a huge swing set in my backyard, there’s a creek down the way, and there’re parks and stuff in town. We also just got a puppy,”he explains. “Name’s Bubba. I’d need somebody to look after him durin’ the day too. Feed him in the mornin’, make sure he goes potty, doesn’t get into shit he ain’t supposed to.”
“Sounds easy enough,” I say with a smile that he doesn’t return. “And your son is four, correct?”
“Tucker.” He nods. “Yes, he’s four.”
“That’s a fun age.”
Before Finn has a chance to respond, the front door bursts open, and in runs who I’m guessing is Tucker. Covered in what has to be mud and grass stains, he’s holding a melting red popsicle, the juice from that covering not only his hand, but most of his arm, and all around his lips is stained red.
“Daddy!” he shouts, running through the house, tracking in mud from the bottom of his shoes. Colliding with Finn’s leg, he peers up at him with a wide, stained grin. “Grandpa gave me a popsicle!”
“I see that,” Finn murmurs. “What’s all over your clothes, bug?”
Tucker giggles. “Mud.”
That’s it. No explanation.
“And why are you wearin’ mud?” Finn asks before holding his hand up. “You know what? Never mind. Let’s get you into the bath.”
Sliding off the stool, I ask, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
As if the kid is noticing me for the first time, he glances up at me, eyes squinted. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ash.” I offer him my hand, which probably isn’t the smartest of my ideas since his is covered in sticky popsicle goo. “And you’re Tucker, right?”
Looking up at his dad, then back to me, his grin spreads. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” I wink, which makes him giggle again.
“Okay, bug,” Finn cuts in. “Get your butt to the bathroom, strip down, and get in the tub.” Then he glances over at me. “If you could run up to my house and grab a change of clothes, that’d be helpful.”
“Sure.” I nod enthusiastically. “How do I get there?”
Tucker races down the hall toward the bathroom as Finn blows out an exasperated breath. “Follow the gravel road past this house for about a mile. You’ll see my place on the left. It’s the only one.” Shoving his hand into his pocket, he hands me his keys. “His bedroom is the one at the very end of the hall. Dresser is in the closet.”
“You got it!”
