DARREL
Sunny Quetzal is detrimental to my blood pressure.
It’s embarrassing enough that I had no idea she was the designer behind my farmhouse when she walked in the room. Or that I felt a jolt in my chest when her cinnamon-brown eyes connected with mine. Or that I gave her a hungry once-over before I could control myself.
Not that anyone could blame me.
She’s stunning.
Objectively speaking.
Every red-blooded male at John Hearst High School would agree.
All these years and she hasn’t changed a bit. Same tight body, same shiny black hair, cat-like brown eyes, and an unhealthy obsession with getting the last word.
I would have sent her skidding out of my building if she hadn’t volunteered to walk out first. There are so many reasons working with Sunny would be a bad idea.
She’s gorgeous.
She’s infuriating.
She’s Kenya’s best friend.
And if Sunny finds out why I need her to decorate rooms for a seven and eleven-year-old, Kenya’s going to hear about it. If Kenya hears about it, it won’t be long until Alistair finds out too.
Allowing Sunny Quetzal into a complicated part of my life when I haven’t even informed Alistair yet is just a recipe for disaster. I’m going to discuss the guardianship with my brother-in-law when I’m good and ready. Not a second before.
Sunny’s about to leave and take her intoxicating Caribbean-breeze fragrance with her, when the door bursts open and two small blurs sprint around the desk and catapult themselves at me.
Sunny gasps and whirls around. I don’t have time to track her expression because I’m too busy staring at the kids who are clinging to my legs like a tree hugger protesting deforestation.
“Micheal? Bailey?” I touch each of their heads. My fingers sink into soft brown curls.
Footsteps thud through the room and both Dina and Ms. Bennet enter my office. I meet the social worker’s eyes. Her lips are pulled halfway into her mouth and she’s wringing her dark hands. My gaze tracks the furrow in her brow, the sheen of sweat on her temple and the jagged cut of her nails. She’s clinging to her car keys, the thinner end of the key jamming into her palm. There’s no notion that she feels the pain, which is a sign of shock. The fact that she was able to drive all the way here with the kids tells me she’s used to functioning under immense amounts of stress.
Not a good thing at all. Especially in her line of work where stress is a constant part of her day. I make a mental note to suggest she talk to someone before her stress seeps out in more dangerous ways.
My eyes land on Sunny next, only because she’s staring at me as if she’s wondering whether she stepped into the twilight zone. I suppose it would shock her that little children voluntarily run to me, since she believes I’m so cold-hearted I eat babies for breakfast.
I rip my gaze from hers and focus on the little boys. No one’s said what this sudden visit is about, but my gut knows. Ms. Jean must be gone.
I blink rapidly to keep my tears back. I don’t have the luxury of exploring my grief. Consoling Micheal and Bailey is the most pressing need. They’re both looking at me. Watching me. Waiting.
A child’s brain is impacted by the caregivers in his or her life. That means whatever I do in this moment will set the tone for the way both Micheal and Bailey associate me and my care in the future.
I kneel to their level and wrap an arm around them both. “It’s okay.”
“She’s dead.” Bailey, the younger of the two boys, sobs into my neck. His glasses slide down his nose, but it stops just before falling off his face. “Grandma’s gone.”
His voice breaks, and it makes a little piece of me break too. I can understand what he’s going through. I still remember the way my heart wrenched out of my chest when I got that call about Claire. She was my best friend and to think that I wouldn’t be able to see her again…
I squeeze the seven-year-old a little tighter. “It’s okay to cry.”
“No.” Micheal, the older of the two, eases back and wipes his face. He’s got fair skin and light brown eyes that remind me of Professor Stein. Like his father, he’s wise beyond his years and carries an air of melancholy. “Grandma told us she didn’t want us to cry.”
“Not crying is okay too,” I assure him. “As long as you know that I’m here for you both.”
Michael turns slightly away and scrubs the heel of his hand over his cheeks. He’s probably feeling an incredible amount of pressure now that he’s all Bailey has left in the world. I’m hoping, in the coming weeks, he’ll learn to give some of that eldest-sibling burden to me.
Bailey turns his face up. He’s got small features and blue eyes that are magnified by the round window glasses. “Mr. Darrel.”
“Yes?”
“Is it true that we’re going to stay with you now?”
I nod.
Ms. Bennet clears her throat. “Hastings, can I speak to you?” She juts her finger at the door. “Outside.”
“Of course. Dina?”
“Yes, yes.” Dina rushes around the desk and gathers the boys to her like a mother hen with her chicks.
I pass Sunny, who’s standing frozen in the middle of my office, her jaw slack and her eyes pinned to me. My heart kicks up a notch. Did she hear Bailey’s question? Did she hear my response?
My fingers wrap around her elbow and I start to push her out. “As you can see, I’m a little busy right now.”
“Who are those kids, Darrel?” She stumbles behind me as I tug her to the lobby. Her voice is low and urgent.
“I’m asking you to leave.”
“Are they really staying with you?”
Damn it. She heard. “You don’t need to care,” I growl.
“How can you say that? Do you think I’m as heartless as you are?” Her eyebrows tighten. “I can’t just walk away when two kids are bawling their eyes out.”
“You can and you will.”
“Or what?” She folds her arms over her chest, her lips tight in a challenge.
“Leave now, Sunny,” I bark. Repeating the instruction won’t magically yield results, but I’m hoping there’s enough bite in my tone to scare her into submission.
“Mr. Hastings.” The social worker gives me an impatient look.
“I don’t have time for this right now.” I release Sunny’s hand and jut my finger at the door. Eyes darkening, I mouth to her, “Leave.” Hoping she’ll take the hint, I turn away from Sunny and gesture to the hallway. “Ms. Bennet. Let’s talk over here.”
She follows me there and faces me. “Mr. Hastings, I apologize for barging into your practice. I realize I should have called first.”
“It’s fine. Tell me what happened. How did you…” The lump in my throat swells when I think about Ms. Jean. “How did you find out?”
“I received a call from the hospital informing me that Ms. Jean wasn’t doing well. I picked the boys up from school and I was bringing them to their grandmother, to say their last goodbyes.”
“Did they see her?” I ask, trying not to think about the moment when I took that sheet off Claire’s lifeless body.
“I didn’t give them the choice. I guided them right back to the car and brought them here.” She pulls her hands together and glances down. “It’s what Ms. Jean wanted. She hopes the boys can remember her as the bright and loud personality that she was.”
I nod.
“Now, given how suddenly this happened, I’m going to assume you don’t have all the things we discussed in place?”
“I’m working on it,” I grind out. Although I’m farther from the goal now than I was yesterday. Maybe I was a little too hasty throwing Sunny out of my office. The boys’ rooms still haven’t been done yet and I was dead-set on having the same decorator.
“I can have the boys stay in a group home until you can be properly assessed…”
My eyes widen. I open my mouth to protest.
“But,” she lifts a hand, “it was Ms. Jeans’ request to have them stay with you. I’ll honor that and recommend they be placed in your care as an emergency guardian. However, this does not mean that the guardianship has officially gone through.”
“I understand.”
“You have to work out all the things we discussed previously. I’m still not convinced this placement is the right fit.”
I dip my chin. At least she’s honest enough to voice her bias against me. We can work through that.
Ms. Bennet casts a look at my office where the boys are talking to Dina. “You call me if you need anything, alright?”
“I will. Thank you, Ms. Bennet.”
She stalks out of the hallway. I hear the wind chimes humming as she makes her exit.
Ms. Jean is gone.
There’s a difference between preparing for your life to change and facing that moment.
I’m responsible for these kids.
It hits me right in the chest, a two-ton cinderblock sitting on my shoulders. I swipe the back of my hand over my mouth, feel the tremble start at the tip of my fingers, and lean against the wall.
Deep breaths, Darrel.
Inhale.
Professor Stein saved my life. I owe him this.
Exhale.
If I can train a grown man to fight through sleep paralysis, I can make sure two children are fed, cared for and protected.
After counting backwards from ten, I ready myself to go back to the office. As I’m about to take the first step, I see a flash of pink in the corner of the hallway. My eyes lock in that direction.
Did I just imagine that?
A low thud erupts in the distance, as if someone knocked against a chair. With a huff, I rush out of the corridor and spy Sunny making a mad dash for the exits. I lurch forward and grab the back of her shirt just as she’s trying to sneak past Dina’s receptionist’s desk.
“Hey!” She squeaks.
I haul her backwards.
Her hands clasp over mine and she tries to pry my fingers off. “Don’t stretch out my shirt. I paid fifty bucks for this.”
I honor her request and grab her hand instead. The moment I touch her, an electric current trips through my body. I push that feeling aside and focus on my annoyance. It is just like Sunny Quetzal to completely ignore my demands and do whatever the hell she wants.
“I told you to go away, Sunny.”
Her brows pull taut as if they want to shake hands. She digs her feet into the carpet and leans back. “Is that why you needed interior decorating? You need to prepare rooms for these kids?”
“I’m not answering your question.”
“I’m not leaving until you do.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I just heard you talking to that lady, Darrel. She said you couldn’t keep the kids unless you prepared well.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I heard you.”
“No, you didn’t hear me. You were eavesdropping on a private conversation.” I rasp out. “Two different things.”
Her chest rises and falls with an aggravated breath.
I keep my stare on her, matching her glare for glare. This is a waste of my time. There’s so much I need to do now that Ms. Jean is gone. The hospital bills need to be paid. The funeral director needs to be contacted. I need to call the boys’ school.
I have a million and one worries buzzing around my head and the last thing I need is this beautiful, frustrating woman adding another headache.
“Okay, fine. I guess I did eavesdrop, but it’s not like you would have told me. I didn’t have a choice!” She throws one hand up.
There she goes, making illogical explanations as if they hold any weight.
A rational person leaves when their presence isn’t required.
A rational person won’t press themselves against the wall and listen to private conversations.
I stop abruptly and haul Sunny to me until she’s practically standing on top of my toes. “Stay out of it.”
“Not a chance.”
“Sunny.”
“I am sorry for eavesdropping, but now that I know about the kids, I want to help.”
“I don’t need your meddling.”
“What you need is to impress that social worker. Having two rooms decorated by me will be a huge plus.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s the simplest problem in the world. You just want everything to be complicated.”
I freeze, my fingers tightening on her wrist. If she wasn’t the most exasperating, bewitching, troublesome woman I’ve ever met…
Dina walks out of my office. Micheal and Bailey shuffle behind her.
“Darrel?” She arches greying eyebrows. “What do we do now?”
Micheal and Bailey look to me too.
My stomach drops. What do we do?
I don’t know.
And the problem is that I should.
I have experience helping others work through their grief. After Claire, I rallied around Alistair. He was so checked out that he completely detached from Belle. And Belle, poor thing, she cried all the time. Because of them, I learned to change diapers, heat up milk, and burp a baby.
I’ve got plenty of experience bringing a grief-torn man from the brink and taking care of an infant, but children ages seven and eleven… They’re old enough to understand what’s going on and young enough to be unsure of how to grapple with it.
Sunny breaks away from me and approaches the boys. Bailey shirks back while Micheal watches her with curious eyes. It’s right in line with their personalities. Micheal is the inquisitive brother, while Bailey is more fearful of the things he doesn’t understand.
Right now, he’s pointing that suspicious look at Sunny. And who can blame him? I barely understand Sunny most days.
“Hey.” She sticks her hand out to the older brother. “I’m Sunny. I’m going to be decorating your bedrooms. Mr. Hastings asked me to make it awesome.”
I bore a hole through the back of her head. What part of our earlier conversation did she not understand?
“We don’t need our rooms decorated,” Micheal says. “We just need a bed.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, buddy. A room is more than a bed. It’s a refuge.” She raises her hands dramatically. “Have you ever seen a home makeover show?”
He shrugs and then nods.
“Well, I don’t have a TV show, but what I do have is skills. See, I’m not just a good interior decorator… I’m the best. That’s why Mr. Darrel hired me.”
I did not hire you. Here she goes, running full sprint in a direction I told her not to go in. See what I mean? Illogical.
I glower at her. She gives me back a knowing smirk, all brown eyes and silky black hair and tight jeans over legs that go on forever.
“Sunny,” I warn.
“Do you know what I need before I can design the best room for you?”
“What?” Micheal asks.
“Ice cream.” Sunny bends slightly and grabs her knees, smiling like she’s not inserting herself into a situation that has no place for her.
Bailey’s eyes light up.
Sunny smiles too. This is bribery and she knows it.
“What does ice cream have to do with designing rooms?” Micheal asks, crossing his gangly arms over his shoulders. The way he’s leaning towards Sunny says he’s interested, but he won’t be as easily swayed as his younger brother.
Sunny remains at his eye-level. “There are a lot of things, but I’m not going to tell you now or it might influence what you do later.”
He considers her words for a minute.
Bailey hops forward, a grin growing on his tear-stained cheeks. “Are we really going to get ice cream? Are we?”
“We have to ask Mr. Darrel.” Sunny stands between the brothers and looks up at me with an exaggeratedly innocent expression. “Please.”
“Please.” Bailey copies her stance and places his hands beneath his chin.
Micheal doesn’t make the pleading face. He stares at the ground, hands behind his back like he couldn’t be bothered. But his ear is turned to me, and I can tell that he’s listening keenly.
Great. How do I say no to kids who’ve just lost their grandmother?
I can’t.
It’s physically impossible.
“Of course we can get ice cream.”
Sunny raises her fist in a cheer. Bailey follows suit because he’s an impressionable child that would celebrate comets plummeting toward the earth if it was pretty enough. Micheal has no outward burst of approval, but his lips quirk up at the corners.
Dina gives me a knowing look. “I’ll stay here and clear your schedule for the day. You go ahead with Ms. Quetzal.”
“Ms. Quetzal won’t be joining us. She’ll be going home.” I give her a firm stare.
“But I didn’t bring my car,” Sunny mumbles, batting her eyelashes. “I’ll need a ride.”
“Catch a cab,” I bite out.
Sunny pushes out her plump bottom lip, sending an unwanted pulse through my pituitary glands.
“Darrel,” she purrs my name, “work with me here.”
I drag my eyes away from her and run a hand down my face.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Sunny throws an arm forward. “To the Batmobile!”
“You know Batman?” Micheal croaks, looking up at her like she can dial the caped superhero on her cell phone.
“Are you kidding? I read the original Detective comics, starting with…”
Micheal’s eyes brighten. “Issue Number…”
“… Twenty seven,” Sunny finishes with him. Then she laughs that aggravating soul-deep laugh. “You know Batman comics?”
He gestures to the leather necklace with the Batman emblem. The way her eyes glimmer tells me she’d noticed and brought up this conversation on purpose. Is she some kind of con artist?
“My mom gave it to me,” Micheal says, his eyes misting over. He rubs pale fingers over the emblem.
“It’s beautiful,” Sunny whispers.
Bailey pushes on the tips of his toes. “I like Batman too.”
“Do you, bud?” She tilts her head at him.
“Mm-hm.” He nods enthusiastically, causing his dark curls to flop up and down.
“How about you tell me what else you like over ice cream?”
“Okay!”
Sunny struts ahead of me, Micheal and Bailey close on her heels.
My jaw drops.
Three minutes.
It took three minutes for her to bewitch the boys the way she charmed an entire high school.
Bailey slips his fingers around her hand, and she holds on to him as if she’s known him forever. I should follow them, but I’m too frustrated to move.
Sunny ignores my dark stare because she has a death wish and opens the door. As the wind chimes sing, she glances over her shoulder and asks calmly, “Coming, Hastings?”
“Sunny.”
She doesn’t wait around to hear the rest. The wind chimes make a musical crash as the door slams shut behind her and the kids.
“She’s fun.” Dina chuckles. “I like her.”
“I don’t.”
Her eyes narrow so quickly that her wrinkles bounce against each other. “Why don’t I believe you, Darrel?”
Probably because it’s a lie.
But there’s no way I’m admitting that.
Clearing my throat, I stomp past her and join the boys who should be crying about their grandmother but are laughing about Batman and ice cream instead.
Bailey does not understand the concept of ice cream cones.
“Buddy, you’re dripping all over your shirt.” I reach for more napkins from the dispenser and realize they’re all out.
Bailey lifts his soft blue eyes to me. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I lift my lips in what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.”
I push away from the table where Micheal and Bailey have taken refuge. Sunny’s supposed to be at the counter ordering her own treat, but I don’t see her anywhere.
My head whips back and forth in search of her. I barely get in a couple steps before I bump into the very woman I’m looking for. The collision comes with a hint of perfume and a flutter in my pulse, followed immediately by a freezing mound sliding down my shirt and jeans.
“I’m so sorry.” Sunny’s eyes widen when she notices the stain she left on my pants. “I swear I didn’t see you there, Darrel.”
I growl at her. It’s thirty degrees in the ice cream parlor and both my shirt and jeans have been smeared with Oreo cookie ice cream and caramel sauce.
“Let me get some napkins.” She whirls to the counter, snaps some tissues and attacks me with them.
“It’s fine.” It’s not fine. This shirt was a gift from Claire after her trip to Italy. You’ll never find a material as soft as this, Darrel.
“I know we can’t stand each other, but I’m not this petty. I really didn’t see you.” She continues to wipe my shirt like her hand is a Brillo pad.
“Sunny, it’s—” The rest of the words choke in my mouth as she dives below the belt with the paper towels, and I jump away. “Just watch the kids while I wipe this off.”
She pins those brown eyes on me. The same eyes that made my mind go blank whenever I saw her walking down the hallway in school.
Her gaze sharpens slightly. “It was an accident, okay? No need to growl at me.”
She’s scolding me when she’s the one who ruined my shirt? The nerve of this woman.
“You’re still glaring.”
“It’s still cold.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“And I guess the world should roll over and applaud you for that.”
Her eyebrows tighten. “What is your problem?”
My pulse is slamming against my veins, my stomach’s tightening, and there’s a twitch in my heart from standing this close to her.
The ice cream’s too cold.
I can’t think right now.
“Just watch the kids,” I bite out.
She scowls at me and remains in place while I stalk to the bathroom. The door slams shut behind me. I bend over the sink and pour cold water into my palms. Splashing my face, I let the water drip down my nose and chin.
She doesn’t even remember you, you idiot. You need to get over what happened and move on with your life. Oh, and stop being a prick to her.
I take a few deep breaths and then scrub my shirt as best as I can. Since splashing water on my crotch will bring even more attention to the mess, I dampen a wad of tissues and dot at the area as best as I can. When that fails, I pull my shirt out and let it hang loose over my groin.
My steps are long and hurried as I leave the bathroom. I get close to the table where the boys are polishing off their ice creams. The treats are working to distract them. Grief will hit them later, in the silence and in the dark but, for now, they’re not thinking about the loss they’ve suffered or the way their lives will completely change for a third time.
Sunny glances up when she sees me coming. She holds my gaze, her eyes narrowing like she wants to punch me. I guess I’d deserve it. I’m not usually this irritable, but my rational side shuts down and all my defenses go up when I’m around her. It’s one of the many reasons I dislike her. She turns me into the kind of man who snaps at women.
“You guys ready to go?” I grip the back of Bailey’s chair.
Micheal continues to eat his ice cream silently.
Bailey chirps at me. “But we’re not finished.”
“It’s getting late, buddy. And you have homework.”
“I hate homework,” Bailey grumbles.
“Me too.” Sunny tenderly cleans his face with a napkin, sopping up the ice cream dripping down his arm too. Her tenderness is a sharp contrast to the angry look she tosses me when I pull out my keys.
“It doesn’t matter whether you like homework or not. What matters is that it has to be done.”
“Killjoy,” Sunny mumbles.
Micheal snorts.
I narrow my eyes at her. She and I might have our issues, but she shouldn’t be a bad influence on the kids. “We’re leaving.”
A few minutes later, Bailey and Micheal pile into the car. I open the front door of my truck for Sunny, but she scoffs and tells me she’ll be in the back with the kids.
The sun is setting when I climb into the driver’s side. A bitter wind shuts the door before I can grab it and do it myself. I suck in a full breath that doesn’t quell the agitation in the middle of my chest. Now is not the time to feel so unsettled, but I can’t help it.
It’s her fault.
It’s always Sunny, chewing away at my rational mind and spinning me like a top.
I get on the road.
The back of the car turns into a party. Their voices get louder and louder, overlapping over one another. Sunny starts humming the theme song of the old Spiderman cartoon and the boys jump in. Energy and amusement whip the air like a hurricane and it teases the hair at the back of my neck.
The fact that I have to drive is doing jack squat to keep my attention off the rearview mirror. In the glass, I see Sunny nestled between the two boys and tilting Bailey’s ice cream so the drops fall on her napkin.
Micheal is watching her intently, as if he wouldn’t mind messing his clothes up with ice cream so he could get the same attention. The boys are getting more smiles from Sunny than I have in a lifetime.
I should watch the road.
I should stop caring about the aggravating woman in the backseat.
If only she’d butt out of my life and make it easy for me.
“Where’s your place?” I bark at Sunny.
The smile drops from Sunny’s face immediately and she answers in a dry voice. “Just take me back to your therapy center.”
“I can take you home,” I insist gruffly.
“I don’t want you to take me home,” she answers in an equally perturbed tone. “So just drop me off there.”
Before I can argue further, Sunny shifts her attention to the boys. “So Bailey, tell me more about school. What’s your favorite subject?”
The seven-year-old starts chatting like he’s been waiting his whole life to answer that question. Sunny draws Micheal into the conversation too. Gradually, the noise in the backseat gets loud again. A moment later, I hear her bright laughter ricocheting through the car.
My chest gets tighter and tighter. I actively command my muscles to relax. If I don’t get myself together, I’m going to bust a vein before the boys can get home. And then they’ll lose two guardians in one day.
As usual, Sunny Quetzal makes everything harder for me. Every time I glance at the mirror, she’s flashing that pretty smile. Or bursting out in that contagious laugh that makes everyone want to press as close to her as possible. Or tucking her shiny, silky-straight black hair behind her ear.
Her hair’s always been thick and bone-straight, like she passed it through a steam roller every morning. The color is jet black and it gets even shinier in the sunlight like she’s a freaking pixie fairy.
I tighten my fingers around the steering wheel and force myself not to think about the past or take anymore peeks at the backseat.
Finally, I pull into the parking lot of the center. Sunny says her goodbyes to the boys and pops out without so much as a grunt at me.
“Hey,” I glance at the backseat, “you two sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
Bailey nods enthusiastically.
Micheal just stares at his phone.
I grab my keys, hop out of the car and chase Sunny down before she can get too far. I want the boys in my eyesight just in case.
“Hey,” I yell. Even though she’s got long, perfect legs, mine are still longer than hers. It doesn’t take much to get in front of her. “We need to talk.”
“Now that you’re suddenly interested in talking to me, Darrel, I kind of wish you’d go back to just speaking via grunts.”
It would be awesome if a little thread of regret wasn’t squeezing my neck right now. “Look, I need you to keep this from Alistair.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“He doesn’t know yet.” I ignore the fight in her words and focus on getting my point across. “I want to be the one to tell him.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Fine.”
“Also,” I glance at the boys, “I…”
Her eyes bore into me.
I rub the back of my neck. Asking for help from anyone is tough, but asking for help from Sunny Quetzal is painful.
“You what?” She plants both hands on her hips.
“Will take you up on your offer to decorate their rooms.” I glance at the sky and pretend the horse-shaped clouds above us are fascinating. “Since you’re insisting on it.”
She laughs. And if my brain-motor functions weren’t connected, I’d probably sink to the ground at her feet.
“That’s a very masculine way of asking for a favor, but yes. I will help you with their rooms. One condition.” She lifts a dark finger. “You don’t get in my way.”
“What does that mean?”
“You leave the designing, the remodeling, everything to me. I get whatever I want for the house.”
A dangerous proposition, but she is the best at what she does. I can admit that.
I stick out a hand. “Deal.”
She eyes it and then she places her dainty fingers in mine. “Deal.”
Time stops for a minute when she smiles at me.
The world shifts off its axis.
The sky gets a little brighter.
I squeeze Sunny Quetzal’s hand, and I get the feeling that my life is about to shift dramatically—just like it did when I saw her prancing down the school hallways for the first time.
Yanking my hand back is an act of self-preservation. Knowing Sunny Quetzal didn’t end well for me in high school. She’s not going to get me twice. I’m grown now. I’m responsible for two young boys. I have a practice to run and patients to keep up with.
No matter what, I can’t fall for Sunny Quetzal and her dazzling smile.
Again.
