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“Sounds like you’re a part of the family already,” he commented with a grin, showing off his pearly white, perfectly-aligned teeth. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“Are those all the questions you have for me?”
“Yes. I feel you’ll be a good fit for my family, but will my family be a good fit for you?”
“I guess there’s only one way to find out. Oh, I do have a question. Will I get an employee credit card to make purchases for the kids and household?”
“Great question. You’ll be an authorized user on one of my credit cards.”
“Good because I’m not trying to get accused and arrested for credit card fraud.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
“Are the children involved in any extracurricular activities?”
“Grant and Casey are in karate.”
Karate, huh? Kiyah might like that.
“May I say something?” Jonathan inquired.
“Sure.”
“I don’t want to exclude Kiyah from anything my children are involved in or make her feel like an outsider. I expect you to come to me if Kiyah has any issues with my children.”
“Like what?” I asked, becoming slightly defensive.
“If the boys are being unkind or giving her the cold shoulder, please let me know.”
“Oh…thank you. I will.”
“What are some things that Kiyah likes?”
My throat burned with emotion. The man was thoughtful and considerate, and I couldn’t help but think his ex-wife was an idiot. I’d be on Jonathan like white on rice if I wasn’t dealing with heartbreak and grief.
Wait! No…I can’t. He’s my employer, and as they say, never mix business with pleasure.
“Hey! The food is done!” Anthony yelled, interrupting us as he entered the house.
“To be continued?” Jonathan asked, standing to his feet. Like a gentleman, he offered his hand. The exchange of warmth when my fingers met his palm was calming, making me feel that this was the right decision for Kiyah and me—pending a thorough background check on Jonathan, Anthony, and Simone.
You can’t be too careful these days.
“To be continued,” I agreed.
Chapter Seven
Kierra
A Week Later
“Kiyah! Seatbelt!” I warned in the rear-view mirror when I caught her bouncing around the backseat. She ignored me and jumped across the seat to the back driver’s side window. “That’s it. I’m pulling over, and then we’ll never make it!”
“No! I want to see Mr. Jonathan and Granny and Case and Daisy,” she whined as she buckled her seatbelt.
“Hey, Ki. Do you remember what I told you? Grant doesn’t like to be called Granny.”
“But it’s funny,” she giggled.
