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I rolled my head sideways again, fully prepared to refuse to say anything if there was even the slightest eye roll or look of derision. I relaxed at the genuine look of concern. “Remember the rules thing I told you about?”

She pulled a face. “No touching, no lights on, no conversation…never feed him after midnight.”

I almost managed a smile at the last comment. “Yeah, well. I broke one of them. I touched him.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Deliberately?”

“No! It was an accident. I got carried away. He was…well, you don’t need to know that. I got carried away.”

“Well, if it was an accident, no big deal, right?”

I sighed. “But, it obviously was a big deal. He freaked out—like majorly. Like a leave immediately freak-out. I think that’s it. I think we’re done. He won’t want me to go there anymore.”

She bit her lip, and I knew what was coming next, even before the sympathetic hand came to rest on my shoulder and the voice softened. “Oh, sweetie. It’s probably for the best. You’re way too attached. It’s obvious it’s no longer about the money. It hasn’t been for a while.”

“That’s not true!” I inwardly winced, recalling the envelope I’d left behind on the table last night. “Anyway, you’re asking the wrong questions. Ask me what I felt when I touched him.”

Her stare said it was the last thing she wanted to do. “What did you feel, Dean?”

“Muscles.”

She sat up suddenly. “Really?”

I made a grab for the duvet to preserve my modesty and nodded. “Whoever this bloody guy is, he’s not old. Not unless, he’s some sort of geriatric bodybuilder.”

Georgia sank slowly back down on the bed, a thoughtful look on her face. “I don’t know what to say.”

* * * *

I’d been dreading the phone call from Tom all day. When he finally rang after two, I was tempted to let it go to voicemail. Reluctantly, I picked up. “Hi, Tom. I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do? I would hope so. What happened? Are you getting forgetful in your old age?”

“No. It just happened. Maybe you can talk him into trying someone else.” The thought left a strange, queasy sensation in my stomach.

“Trying someone else? Are you quitting?”

“What?” I let the words sink in, trying to make sense out of them. “He called and told you he didn’t want me anymore, right?”

“Not unless the conversation was in code. He called and told me you’d forgotten to take the money. He wanted me to let you know that he’d pay the extra next week.”

“Next week!” I barely heard the rest of the conversation, such was the effect of the relief flooding my body. Georgia was right. I was in way over my head, obsessed with a man I knew nothing about. The right thing to do would be to call Tom straight back and tell him I was done with the job. My finger hovered over the button to call him, before it slid away without making the call.

* * * *

My brother, Andy, passed over one of the coffees from a nearby kiosk. I thanked him then returned to watching my nephew run around to the steps of the slide. It had to have been his thirtieth go, at the very least.

“Daddy! Uncle Dean. Watch me. See how fast I can go.” We both smiled and waved, offering words of encouragement. Thankfully, it was a pattern we only had to repeat about once every eight slides.

I turned to my brother. “He knows the rest of the playground exists, right?”

Andy took a swig of his coffee before answering. “I made him go on the swings last week. He cried. You can’t separate my boy from his slide.”

“You should get one for the back yard.”

The look he leveled my way was one of complete and absolute horror and disbelief. “I need him to go to bed at night. The longer he thinks slides only exist in the park, the better.” He pointed an accusatory finger in my direction. “And you better not tell him anything else.”

I laughed. “I’ll remember that when I need blackmail material.”