Unsuitable (8 page)

I really need to make a good impression, and I can’t do that when I can’t even make the first appointment she’s tried to make with me.

Tears sting my eyes.

Life is so unfair. After everything I’ve been through, I just figured I was due a break.

Apparently not.

I press the heels of my hands to my eyes to curb the tears in them, and I blow out a breath.

When I feel a little more under control of my emotions, I pull my hands away from my eyes, lifting my head, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest when I see Kas standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry.” I jump to my feet. “I was just getting back to work.”

His voice stops me. “You can have the time off on Friday.”

Not only am I shocked by his words, but by the sound of his voice as well. It sounds gentle. I’ve never heard him speak that way before. Not even when he apologized earlier.

“Thank you,” I whisper, looking up into his face.

His eyes meet mine. There’s a flicker of something…compassion maybe? But it’s gone as quickly as it arrived.

“But I want you in at seven thirty on Friday and for you to work during your lunch to make up the time.”

“Of course.”

“And, Daisy?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t take personal calls on my time again. You do, and I will fire you.” With that, he turns and leaves.

What?

Did he know…that I took Anne’s call?

How?

I glance around the bathroom, suddenly feeling very uneasy. A shudder rolls through me.

Then, I force myself to get back to work, so as not to rock the boat.

Te
n

I input the code into the keypad and wait for the gates to open.

It’s so quiet. Well, it’s always quiet around here, but it seems especially quiet. That could have something to do with it being seven thirty a.m.

It’s Friday, and I’m in early, as promised, so I can leave to make my appointment with Anne.

I haven’t seen Kas at all this week. He hasn’t been here when I have been. I asked Cooper where he was, and he said Kas would do this from time to time, disappearing during the day, which got me wondering where he might go.

Maybe he’s got a girlfriend.

I get this weird feeling in my chest at the thought.

Shaking it off, I walk through the gates and up the drive. I veer off the driveway when I reach the paddocks.

“Hey, Butterscotch.”

Butterscotch is fast becoming one of my favorite horses. She’s a palomino. No, I haven’t suddenly gotten all horsey. Cooper told me.

I’ve been hanging out at the paddocks on my lunch hour.

I met Ellie, Peter, Mack, and Tash. They were all lovely. Ellie, especially so. She seemed really friendly. She invited me to go to the pub for lunch with them the next time they go.

It was nice to be asked. To be included in something so normal as going to the pub for lunch with my work colleagues.

But, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if they would still invite me if they knew I’d just gotten out of prison.

The other thing that’s been bugging me is that, clearly, Kas hasn’t told anyone that I was in prison. If I’m being honest, I thought he would’ve.

But I’m not complaining. It’s nice not to be judged at my place of work. So, if Kas is keeping his mouth zipped about my past, then so am I.

I met Dom, the gardener, as well. He’s a really nice guy. After my little disagreement with Kas on my second day, I was outside, sitting on my favorite bench and having my lunch, when he came over to introduce himself.

“I brought you treats,” I tell Butterscotch. Reaching into my bag, I pull out two of the four apples I brought with me.

Danger, Butterscotch’s paddock pal, spies me with the apples and comes trotting over. He’s a big-ass horse. Black as night. Gorgeous.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t forget about you, Danger.” I reach out and feed him an apple.

As I turn my head, something in my peripheral catches my eye.

And that something has me turning fully around.

Kas is standing on his balcony. And, when I say
standing on his balcony
, I mean, he’s up on the stone railing.

Standing there, hands on his hips, face turned up to the morning sun.

He’s wearing black running shorts and a black T-shirt.

He looks like a god.

A mean god.

He moves down to sit on the edge of the railing, legs dangling. Then, he slides his butt off, putting his feet on the outer ledge, keeping ahold of the railing with his hands, so he’s standing on the wrong side of it. The not-so-safe side.

My heart starts to beat faster. My eyes are glued to him.

I watch as he casts another glance skyward. Then, without hesitation, he moves down into a crouch. One hand still on the railing, he slightly leans forward.

And jumps.

Noise pops in my ears, and I realize it’s my own voice screaming, “No!”

Then, I’m running toward him, my heart in my throat the whole time.

He’s going to die.

Oh my God, he’s going to die, and I don’t know CPR!

Why didn’t I learn CPR?

And why the hell did he just jump?

My mind is going a million miles a minute as I sprint toward him, my bag banging against my side.

And I watch in fascinated horror as Kas hits the grass, landing on his feet in an almost catlike way. The motion takes him down to a forward roll, and he’s back up on his feet in seconds.

What the…bloody fuck?

And I’m still running.

Kas turns his head, seeing me, and his stare brings my feet skidding to a stop.

There’s about thirty feet between us.

He watches me for a long moment, no hint of emotion on his face.

Then, the fucker grins.

He actually grins. And then he takes off running across the paddocks, heading for the forest at the back of the estate.

Me? I’m shaking like a leaf, my heart going ten to the dozen.

What the hell was that?

Trying to catch my breath, I put my hands on my hips and look up at the balcony. It’s about a twenty-foot drop, and he just jumped it, like it was nothing.

I’m just…I can’t believe he did that.

I need a coffee.

Well, a stiff drink would probably be nice, but as I can’t have that, I’ll go for a hit of caffeine.

Still feeling a little wobbly, I head around the house and let myself in the open front door. I hang my bag and coat up in the coat closet and make my way to the kitchen.

I see an envelope on the counter with my name on it. Picking it up, I open it and see money and my payslip inside.

It’s my wages. Not a full week, as I’ve only worked four days after starting on Tuesday, but it’s my first pay.

Weirdly, I get a little lump in my throat.

My boss might be an arse, but I have a paying job. Later on, I’ll be seeing Anne, and I will be one step closer to getting Jesse back.

Smiling, I fold the envelope up and put it in the pocket of my dress.

I work the fancy coffee machine they have and start brewing coffee, figuring Kas might want some when he gets back.

Because I sure as hell need some after that.

I pour myself a coffee and set about filling the dishwasher with Kas’s dinner plate and pans from last night. I set the dishwasher going and start cleaning down the stove, which he made a mess of, drinking my coffee while I work.

I’ve finished my coffee, and I’m just rinsing out my cup, thinking I’ll tackle Kas’s office while he’s still out. Then, the back door opens, and the man appears, like I conjured him up.

His hair is uncharacteristically ruffled up. A sheen of sweat is covering his skin, his damp T-shirt clinging to his body. The muscles on his arms are…wow, and his legs…sweet Jesus, they’re really toned.

Honestly, he’s never looked hotter.

I have this sudden image of going over to him. Getting down on my knees. Kissing my way up those legs, then pulling his running shorts down, and—

“Coffee?” I squeak out, quickly turning away, so he can’t see that I’m blushing.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t even like this guy.

He’s mean, and he jumps off his balcony, nearly giving his employee a heart attack.

“Coffee would be good. Thanks.”

I grab a cup from the cupboard and pour him out a coffee.

“Milk?” I ask.

“No. Just black.”

I hand the cup over to him and step back, leaning against the counter.

“I forgot you were coming in early today.” His voice is low.

Is that why you did your crazy jump? Because you thought you were alone?

Then, I tense up, hoping he’s not going to change his mind about me leaving early.

I meet his steady gaze. “I hope it’s not a problem?”

“It’s not a problem.” He looks away from me to the door. “I’m going to take a shower.” He walks away, taking his coffee with him.

And I just can’t help myself. “What was that before? You jumping off the balcony?”

There, I said it.

I had to, or it would have bugged me all day.

He stops. I can see the clear line of tension across his shoulders.

He stands there for so long that I think he isn’t going to say anything.

“Parkour,” he says without turning around.

Parkour?

Then, he walks away without another word.

The moment he’s out of sight, I get my phone out of my pocket, bring up Google, type in
parkour
, and hit Search.

El
even

Turns out that
parkour
—or
freerunning
, as it’s also called—is the art of moving rapidly through an area, usually an urban area. The
traceur
, which is the correct term for a person who practices parkour, moves around or over obstacles by running, jumping, and climbing them.

I got all that off the Internet.

After I finished reading up on it, I was feeling kind of fascinated. I saw there was a whole bunch of videos online. But I didn’t want Kas to catch me on my phone, so I had to wait until I left work.

The moment I was out of there, I was back on Google, and I watched videos the whole walk to the station and on the train journey home.

I can’t believe that Kas does parkour. Not because he’s not fit—because he clearly is—but because…well, it’s really cool, and he’s such an uptight, miserable bugger.

But, clearly, there’s this whole other side to him that I know nothing about.

And it kind of makes me curious.

I didn’t see Kas for the rest of the day. When he came down from his shower, he holed himself up in his office, and I left him to it.

I knocked on his door at four to let him know that I was leaving, and he barked at me from the other side, so I hightailed it out of there.

And, now, I’m home, and I’m awaiting Anne’s arrival.

I’m all showered and ready, wearing my best
mum
clothes. I’ve gone for a calf-length powder-blue dress. It’s an old dress, but it’s nice, respectable. It has capped sleeves and a cute belt around the waist. My hair is tied back in a braid. I also put on a light dusting of makeup.

I’m good to go.

Cece is working until eight, so I’ve got the place to myself.

The good biscuits are set out on a plate on the coffee table in the living room. Tea is in the pot, and coffee is in the carafe on a tray. Cups are ready along with milk in a jug and sugar cubes in the pot.

I’m ready to show Anne that I’ve changed.

Even though I haven’t changed. Not really. Deep down, I’m the same person I’ve always been. Just a little less trusting than I used to be.

But Anne sees what she’s read on paper. She sees me as a thief and ex-con. A woman who kept the fact that her mother had run off and abandoned her kids a secret.

Social Services doesn’t see the good in my reasons. They don’t care that I worked my arse off to keep a roof over Jesse’s head and to put food in his belly. That, every single day, I made sure he knew how much he was loved.

Social Services doesn’t care about any of that.

All they see is a liar. A thief. And a criminal.

All because of Jason.

But I’m not going to go there. Today is going to be a good day.

I’m not going to think about that piece of shit.

I’m going to get Jesse back.

I’m going to show Anne the real Daisy—the responsible, reliable Daisy, who loves her brother like he’s her own kid.
He is my kid.
And I will do anything for him.

The doorbell rings, and a tremor of nerves runs through me. Standing from the sofa, I smooth my trembling hands down my dress and walk to the front door.

Pulling open the door, I see a woman on the other side. Looks to be in her fifties. Plump. Shoulder-length curly black hair. Kind face.

“Anne?” I’ve spoken to Anne many times on the phone, but I have never actually met her in person.

“Yes. And you must be Daisy. You and Jesse have the exact same eye color. Lovely.” She smiles.

Jesse and I both have amber eyes with flecks of hazel in them. In certain lights, it looks almost gold. It’s a fairly unusual eye color, one that we inherited from our dad.

It’s one of the things that I actually like about myself.

“Come in.” I smile, stepping back to let her in.

I shut the door and lead her straight into the living room. She takes a seat on the sofa, putting her huge bag on the floor next to her. I take a seat in the armchair across from her.

“Lovely place you have here.”

“Would you like a tour?” I offer.

“Tea first, if that’s okay.” She smiles. “I haven’t had a cuppa since lunch, and I’m dying for one.”

Smiling, I reach over and pour tea in a cup. “Milk and sugar?”

“Just milk, please.”

I pour the milk in, stir with the teaspoon, and hand it over to her. I pour myself a coffee, adding milk.

“Help yourself to biscuits,” I tell her.

She sips her tea. “Oh, lovely cup of tea,” she tells me.

I’ve always been told I make good tea even though I never drink it myself. I don’t know what I do when it comes to making tea that makes it taste so good. I guess I just have the tea touch.