Single Mom, Billionaire Boss Read online

  She grinned and stood on the bench seat to welcome him. He sat on the other side of her, steadying her so she didn’t fall. Meagan was doing the same thing, and it made her feel as if she and Garrett were Ivy’s parents. But they weren’t, she told herself. He wasn’t Ivy’s father. Nor should Meagan be thinking those sorts of thoughts.

  The child sat back down and offered him some of her food. He politely refused, but she insisted. So he took a slice of banana and ate it. By now, Ivy was wedged between him and Meagan, and the toddler seemed even more content than she had been earlier. But she was used to having Tanner and Candy as her guardians, so it would stand to reason that she was comfortable being with two attending adults. A couple, if you will. That was her norm. But it wasn’t Meagan’s. She wasn’t accustomed to having a man by her side.

  Garrett finally spoke to Meagan. “How are you doing?”

  Aside from analyzing herself and her daughter? “I’m fine.” She smiled and gestured to her lunch. “Just brown-bagging it.”

  He glanced at her half-eaten sandwich. “So I see.” He accepted a cheese-flavored cracker that Ivy handed him. Then he continued talking to Meagan. “I can’t stay long. I have a lot to do today, but I wanted to invite you and Ivy to an upcoming charity event.”

  “What exactly is it?” She doubted that it was a fancy gala, not if a two-year-old would be coming along.

  “It’s a picnic at a local park. Lots of kids will be there with their foster families, along with people who are donating to the charity and their families. I’ll buy your tickets, so you and your daughter can attend.”

  “Will your foster brothers be there?”

  He nodded. “I just talked to them this morning about it. Do you want to go?”

  “Sure.” This would give her the opportunity to apologize to his brothers. She also thought a picnic sounded nice. “When is it?”

  “Next Saturday.” He paused. “Come to think of it, maybe Tanner and Candy can join you. I’ll provide their tickets, too. If they come, then everyone can meet everyone.”

  “What about your mom? Is she included in this?”

  He shook his head. “She won’t be there. She can’t spend too much time in the sun. But we’ll work out another day for the two of you to get together.”

  Meagan felt a huge weight being lifted from her shoulders. “Thank you. Meeting her is really important to me.”

  “Maybe we can arrange it for later this week, if Mom is feeling up to it.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  In the next quiet moment, Ivy drew their attention, humming to herself and playing with her food. She lined up the crackers, making them walk.

  Garrett smiled, and so did Meagan. Then he said, “There are some things about my mom that I’d like to tell you. Things you should know ahead of time.”

  She assumed he meant about his mother’s illness. “Just let me know when you want to talk about it.”

  “Do you want to meet tomorrow, before your shift starts? I can cook breakfast for you at my house.”

  Oh, wow. He was inviting her to his castle in the sky. “You cook?”

  He lifted one brawny shoulder in a partial shrug. He laughed a little, too. “I manage.”

  “I’d love to join you for breakfast.” She’d never had a man cook for her before. Neil hadn’t been that kind of guy. She searched Garrett’s gaze. “Should I bring anything?”

  He looked back at her. “All I need is for you to be there.”

  Meagan sucked in her breath. His response sounded more romantic than it should have. But she knew that he wasn’t inviting her to his house to make out with him. Nothing was going to happen.

  Was she secretly hoping that it would? With each week that passed, she was becoming more infatuated with him. Even now, a warm hush had come over them. She couldn’t stop staring at him. Neither of them had broken eye contact yet.

  Thank goodness they were sitting off by themselves, without any of the teachers nearby to observe them. Ivy, of course, was too young to understand.

  Garrett finally glanced away, prompting Meagan to peer off to the side, too. But when he spoke, she shifted her focus back to him.

  He said, “There’s a security gate before you get to my house, so I’ll have to let you onto the property. Just drive up to the gate and push the buzzer.”

  “Will do.” Meagan still hadn’t finished her sandwich. She tore at the crust on her bread, and her daughter nabbed it, adding it to the crushed-up crackers she’d been playing with.

  “I should go.” Garrett stood and ruffled Ivy’s hair. “Goodbye, princess.”

  “Bye, Garry.” The child looked up and gave him a handful of crumbs as a parting gift.

  He tucked them into his jacket pocket, and she grinned and returned to the mess she’d made.

  “See you tomorrow,” he said to Meagan. “Sevenish?”

  “I’ll be there.” For a date that wasn’t a date, she thought. With a man who was already making her melt.

  * * *

  The next morning, Meagan arrived at the gate and followed Garrett’s instructions to push the buzzer. He buzzed her in, and she drove farther up the hill and parked in front of his house.

  She was dressed for work since that was where she would be going afterward. But she hadn’t braided her hair yet. For now, it was long and loose and flowing down her back. She’d spent nearly three years wearing a dowdy prison uniform with her hair in a no-frills ponytail. The least she could do was try to look nice, especially when she was on her way to see Garrett. She wanted to be pretty for him.

  Nonetheless, she was nervous about this get-together. She’d barely slept last night thinking about it, and this morning when she’d dropped Ivy off at day care, her daughter had given her an extra-special kiss goodbye—as if the child sensed that she needed it.

  Meagan took a moment to study the outside of Garrett’s beach house–style mansion, with its tree-lined courtyard and enormous picture windows.

  But before she could knock or ring the bell, he opened the front door and greeted her. He was dressed for the office. Or sort of dressed for it, she thought. He wore gray trousers and a pinstriped shirt, but it wasn’t tucked into his pants. He didn’t have a tie.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi,” she replied. When she glanced down, she noticed that his feet were bare.

  He gestured. “Come in.”

  She followed him into the entryway, where they ascended a staircase that led to the living room. From there, he took her into the kitchen.

  “Your house is magnificent,” she told him. She could see the ocean from nearly every window. Most of his furnishings were made from natural woods. “I love the kitchen.” It was decorated in black and white, with an intricately tiled floor. “Everything is so bright and inviting.”

  “Thank you. Take a seat, and I’ll get started on the meal.”

  “Okay.” Meagan sat at a bar-style counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. From her vantage point, she could watch Garrett cook.

  He removed a carton of eggs from the fridge. He placed tomatoes on a cutting board, too. He also put potatoes in a colander to be cleaned and peeled.

  “Do you need some help?” she asked.

  “No, thanks. I’ve got it.” Garrett turned toward her. “Do you want coffee or orange juice? Or both?”

  “Juice would be nice.” She’d already had coffee this morning.

  He poured it from a store-bought carton and set it in front of her. “It’s the kind with lots of pulp.”

  “I like that kind.” She took a sip. “I get the sneaking suspicion that you’re a better cook than you led me to believe.”

  “I’m just making eggs and potatoes.”

  “Yes, but look how good you are at it.” He peele
d the spuds with a paring knife, working them like a chef. He even had fresh herbs available.

  “I’m just fanatical about doing things right.”

  He did seem like a perfectionist. “I can tell.”

  She enjoyed watching him move about the kitchen. He remained neat and tidy, without spilling or splattering anything on his shirt. She almost wished that he would, in hope that he would remove it.

  Meagan drank more of her juice, trying to cool herself off. She didn’t need to be fantasizing about Garrett without his shirt. He was sexy enough, just as he was.

  He finished cooking the meal and filled her plate, giving her two poached eggs and a generous helping of pan-roasted, rosemary-seasoned potatoes. The tomatoes had been diced up, drizzled with olive oil and garnished with parsley. There was whole wheat toast, too.

  She sat a little more forward in her seat. “It looks fabulous.” Normally, she just had a bowl of oatmeal in the morning. Of course when she’d been in prison, she ate whatever they gave her.

  He placed a tub of butter and a jar of strawberry preserves on the counter, along with clear glass salt and pepper shakers, paper napkins and sturdy flatware.

  He took the bar stool next to hers. “I hardly ever use the dining room table. This is where I usually eat.”

  “It works for me.” She liked that he was seated so close to her. He smelled like cologne. The spicy fragrance mingled with the food he’d fixed. She could’ve breathed him in all day.

  They ate their breakfast, and it was as good as it looked. She smothered her toast in jam, and he spread butter on his.

  “Did you tell Tanner and Candy about the charity event?” he asked.

  “Yes, and they thought it sounded wonderful, but they can’t go. They already have an appointment that day, tasting wedding cakes. If they cancel it, they’ll be scrambling to get everything done. The caterer they’re using is really busy. They still want to meet you, though. Hopefully, we can arrange it for another time.”

  “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  “Okay, but will you tell me more about the event?” she asked. “And what to expect?”

  “Truthfully, I don’t know what to expect, other than it’s going to be a picnic with games and prizes and sports activities. We’ve never done anything where the kids themselves would be in attendance. But we thought it would be nice to have something fun for them to do, where the entertainment was created for them. When I was in foster care, a lot of the kids felt like second-class citizens, as if nothing they said or did mattered.”

  Her heart went heavy. “Did you feel that way?”

  “Mostly, I just worried about my mom, but it was hard for me, too, getting bounced in and out of someone else’s house every time she got sick. It was a tough and lonely existence, and, without Jake and Max, it would have been even more unbearable.”

  “How old were you?”

  “When I first went into foster care? Twelve. Jake went in when he was twelve, too, and Max had been there since he was eight, but he didn’t end up in the same house with us until he was eleven. Jake thought Max was a dork at first, but we all got really close as time went on.” Garrett finished his eggs and started on the rest of his food. “Jake’s wife used to be a foster kid, too, an orphan like he was. But she handled her grief in more sensible ways. She didn’t run wild the way he did.”

  Meagan could barely comprehend their childhoods. Hers had been bad, but theirs sounded far worse. “Did you all know her back then?”

  “No. Jake met Carol a few years ago when she applied to work for our charity. But he hired her as his personal assistant instead. I think he was drawn to her from the start because they suffered similar tragedies.”

  “What a beautiful thing—them having a baby together.”

  “It’s great to see him so happy.”

  “Will Carol be at the picnic, too?”

  “As far as I know, she will.”

  “Does she know about what I did?”

  Garrett nodded. “Yes, she knows the whole story.”

  “And now here I am at your house.” She stared into his eyes and felt her heart bump her chest. “I never would have imagined it.”

  “Me, neither.” He gazed at her in the same emotional way that she was looking at him. “We’ve come a long way.”

  “I like being your friend.”

  “I like it, too.”

  Maybe they liked it too much? Meagan felt light-headed just from being near him. To keep herself from sliding straight off her bar stool, she gripped her fork and ate every last bite of her food. By now Garrett was done, as well.

  She helped him clear the dishes, and he said, “Do you want to go outside and sit by the pool?”

  “Sure.” She assumed that he wanted to finish their conversation out there.

  “It’s this way.” He led her to the back of the house and through a sliding glass door, where his white-bricked patio and kidney-shaped pool awaited. The yard itself was fenced and surrounded by nature.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” she said.

  “It’s my favorite spot in the house. I have access to it from my bedroom, too.”

  She glanced in the direction he indicated. She wanted to get a better look, but the blinds on the sliding glass doors were closed, making his sleeping quarters a mystery.

  She sat across from him in a wicker chair. “You created a glittering haven for yourself.”

  “Glittering?”

  “In the way the sun hits the water,” she clarified, still thinking about his shrouded bedroom. To keep him from noticing her interest in his room, she hurriedly asked, “Where did you live when you were young? When you were with your mom and not in foster care?”

  “We had a little apartment above someone’s garage. He was a nice old man. He understood how it was for us and never raised the rent or kicked us out when we struggled to pay it.”

  “Is he still around?”

  “No. He died before I was able to repay him for his kindness. I attended his funeral, though. So did Mom, even though she was feeling poorly that day. She’s always had her ups and downs.”

  “Are you going to tell me more about her illness? So I can be prepared when I meet her?”

  “Yes, but mostly I want to discuss her association with your mother.”

  Stunned, Meagan repeated what he said. “Her association with my mother? She knew my mom?” She leaned forward. “When?”

  “A long time ago,” he replied, while Meagan remained perched on the edge of her seat, waiting for him to expound.

  Seven

  Garrett noticed how eager Meagan was to hear what he had to say, so he got right to the point, telling her what he knew. “When Mom was researching your background, she discovered that your mother was a member of a Native American women’s group that she once belonged to. This particular branch was a sewing circle.”

  “Was the woman who belonged to that group Mary Aénéva-Quinn?” Meagan asked, as if she wanted to be absolutely certain they were talking about the right person.

  “Yes. That’s her. Aénéva. Her maiden name means Winter Time.” When she nodded, confirming the translation, he said, “My great-great-grandfather’s name was É-hesta̍seve. It means There is Snow. So that’s how my family got the surname Snow.” Garrett frowned a little. “I suppose it’s strange, isn’t it, how your mother’s people are Winter Time and mine are Snow?”

  “There are a lot of strange things between us, Garrett.” She glanced at the pool and then back at him. “How well did our moms know each other?”

  “Not well. They only attended a few meetings at the same time. But Mom can tell you whatever you want to know when you meet her. I don’t have all the details. I didn’t want to know too much about it.”

  “Why not
?”

  “Because I didn’t used to think it was important.”

  “But now you do?”

  “It’s sure starting to seem that way.” He couldn’t deny this was affecting him now that he’d told her about it. Meagan even looked as if she were battling the urge to cry.

  She said, “I nearly fell apart after my mom died. It was so sudden, her heart failure. There was no time to prepare for it.” She paused. “But I’m glad that she never saw what happened to me. How I stole the money and went to prison. That would have destroyed her.”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t have done it if she’d still been alive.”

  “You’re right. I’m sure I wouldn’t have.” The tears Meagan had been fighting gathered in her eyes. “Her funeral was one of the worst days of my life.”

  Garrett got up and sat in the patio chair next to hers, wanting to be closer to her. “She’s at peace, Meagan.” In the old Cheyenne way, the souls of the departed traveled along the Milky Way to the place of the dead, where they met with friends and family who’d also passed on.

  “I know. But it still hurts.”

  “I’m sorry.” He’d never lost anyone he loved, but he’d lived on the edge of fear, wondering when it was going to happen to him. “When I was in foster care, I used to lie awake at night and worry that my mom was going to die and that I’d never see her again. Then I’d go home and, after a while, she would fall ill again. It was a vicious cycle that never seemed to end.”

  “You told me before that she had an autoimmune disease. But you never said what it was.”

  “She has lupus. It’s a chronic inflammatory disease. There’s no cure for it, but treatment can help control the symptoms. They can range from mild to severe.”

  “It sounds awful.”

  “Mom has always been a sickly person. But she has her good moments, too. She hasn’t been symptomatic all the time. Even when I was a kid, she was able to work and go places and try to live a fairly normal life.”

  “So why was she hospitalized?”

  “Soon after my twelfth birthday, she took me on a camping trip. She was determined to get out there and commune with nature. She wanted both of us to have that experience. But it backfired, and she got bitten by a tick and contracted Lyme disease. The combination of the Lyme disease and the lupus was too much for her. She got violently ill. Lyme disease can be severe on its own, but for someone with an autoimmune disease, it is even worse.”