The Setup and the Substitute by Jiffy Kate
Chapter 7
Owen
“Sophia Callahan?”my attorney asks over the phone.
Glancing over the release form Sophie signed, allowing me to run a background check on her, I confirm her name, “Yeah, Sophia Grace Callahan.”
“You know who she is, right?” David asks.
Outside of her being a teacher, I didn’t know very much about Sophie, other than her obvious love of travel. But I only learned that from stalking her Instagram account.
When I don’t answer, he continues, “I guess I’ll cut you some slack since you’re not from here but just about everyone in New Orleans, if not the state of Louisiana, has heard of the Callahans. Sophia’s grandfather was Lieutenant Governor back in the nineties. Her father was a City Council member for years, and I’ve heard her older brother is getting ready to run for office. Those that aren’t in politics are mostly lawyers, ranging from criminal defense to corporate law.”
He pauses, exhaling deeply. “So, you could say they’re a very influential family and have been for generations. Think the Kennedys, but on a smaller scale.”
“Wow,” is all I manage to get out, not holding back my surprise. Honestly, I don’t give a shit who her family is but based on my experiences with her, I wouldn’t have pegged her as being very political, whatever that means. Hearing Sophie comes from money, though, does give me pause.
You could say my experience with rich girls isn’t that great. Lisa came from money and it always felt like the root of our problems. Well, her problems. I realize, now, the things Lisa was dealing with had nothing to do with me, and I really had no power to help her.
Clearly, Sophie isn’t Lisa. It’s obvious she’s living her life the way she wants and trying to make her own way as a teacher and that’s admirable.
I can’t deny she has a certain air about her, but she doesn’t look the part of a stereotypical rich girl. I imagine Emily would describe Sophie’s look as being bohemian chic or something, like a hippie but classy. This thought makes me chuckle as I realize I’m spending way too much time dissecting information that just doesn’t matter.
She’s great with the kids and they love her, so I’m sold.
“Now, I know Louisiana politicians don’t always have great reputations,” David continues. “But Sophia Callahan is as squeaky clean as they come. Not even a speeding ticket on her record,” he assures me.
“That’s great.” I’m relieved David has such a good report for me but I really wasn’t that worried. I know teachers have to go through this type of thing in order to be hired, as well, so I was fairly certain Sophie was legit. “Thanks, again, for doing this for me so quickly. It’ll be a relief to officially hire her before I leave in a couple of days for another road trip.”
“That’s what I’m here for, Owen. I’ll send over this report and the forms for Miss Callahan to sign by the end of the day. Call me if anything else comes up,” he says before we end our call.
David has been a godsend since I moved to New Orleans. I had a lawyer when I was in New York but I felt it’d be more beneficial if I had someone local once the kids and I relocated. He’s the one who put me in contact with the private investigator I hired to locate Lisa.
Now that my brain has brought her up, I can’t stop the usual flight pattern.
First, her name will come up in thought or conversation.
Then, I’m wondering if she’s safe—alive.
And after that, my anger takes over as my mind wonders how she could just up and leave, not just me—actually not me, at all—but Molly and Ryan. She’s their mother. She’s supposed to put their needs above everyone else’s, including her own.
Over the past few months, I’ve found out she’s living in California. Between the PI and Lisa’s family, we’ve pieced together that she’s been in and out of spas that masquerade as drug rehabilitation centers. She’s close to draining her trust fund and her parents swear they're not adding anything to it once she does.
I’m not sure what that will mean for her, but I can’t be worried about it anymore. It’s no longer my problem.
She’s not my responsibility.
Molly and Ryan are my priority.
And I will protect them at all cost, even from their own mother.
* * *
When Sophie showsup at the house a few hours later, I try not to look at her.
I mean, I’m not rude, at least I hope that’s not how I’m coming off, but I’m trying to be professional and every time I look at her all I can think about is how gorgeous her hair is and how soft it would be if I touched it. It hangs in loose waves around her shoulders and feels like a beacon of light in the darkness that is my love life.
But, no.
She’s moments away from officially becoming my nanny.
So, anything romantic is off the table.
“Basically, all of the rooms you’ll be in are downstairs,” I tell her, thankful I don’t have to take her on a tour of my bedroom because then it would be nearly impossible to keep myself from imagining her naked.
She hums behind me and I smile.
It’s cute. I can’t help it.
“This is Molly’s room,” I say, opening the door to the purple and blue oasis. There’s a full-size bed with a net thing hanging over it and lights, so many lights. My mom and Emily decorated it to Molly’s specifications.
“She’s responsible for putting her clothes in the hamper and making her bed,” I say loud enough for Molly to hear me. “Isn’t that right, Molls?”
When she rolls her eyes like a teenager, Sophie and I both laugh.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say, turning to walk across the hall to Ryan’s door. “And this is Ryan’s bedroom. He has a super cool zip-up comforter that he also makes all by himself.”
“Yep,” Ryan says excitedly, much more so than his sister. “I hope his enthusiasm for bed making lasts for at least a few more years.”
Sophie ruffles Ryan’s hair and I don’t miss the way he beams up at her. That look alone solidifies my decision to hire her.
“And this will be your room,” I tell her, cracking the door to the room next to Ryan’s. “It’s pretty basic, so feel free to add any personal touches you’d like. And if there’s anything specific you need, you can buy it and put it on your expense report for reimbursement.”
Sophie steps inside and does a quick perusal. “Looks nice and cozy to me,” she says as she turns and gives me a bright smile.
Damn it.
When she smiles like that, she’s too pretty for her own good. And mine.
Clearing my throat, I turn away and head further down the hall. For the first time in over a year, I’m actually happy to be leaving in a couple days. A little time away will do me some good.
Surely this initial attraction to her will weaken over time.
Right?
“To the left is the laundry room,” I point out. “But you’ll only have to use that if you need it for your personal use. Sharon comes in twice a week to clean and do laundry. I’ve already told her about you. She’s great. If you need groceries, she’ll also get those too, but it’s so easy to have things delivered these days I rarely ask her to do that.”
Walking toward the end of the hall, I motion to the right. “That’s the door to the garage. The keys to the Land Rover are in the kitchen drawer next to the refrigerator—”
“Where the binder is with all of the passcodes and instructions for the alarm system, along with all of the emergency numbers,” Sophie adds, letting me know she’s been paying attention and retaining the information I’ve been dumping on her since she walked in the door.
“Right,” I say without turning to look at her. “And this is my gym.” Pushing the door open, I give the room a once over, appreciating the space and feeling a little weird inviting her in here because it’s become my personal retreat since we moved. If I’m feeling stressed, I come here to sweat it out on the treadmill. If I’m feeling worried, I lift some weights. If I’m feeling turned the fuck on with zero plans of doing anything about it, I do so many reps my muscles give out and the only thing I can think about afterward is a shower and my bed.
That last one has been the reason for plenty of sessions over the past couple weeks.
All thanks to Sophie.
“You can use it, if you want, but Molly and Ryan aren’t allowed in here. Too much equipment they can get hurt on or mess up.”
Sophie hums again and it goes straight to my cock.
What the hell?
“I’m more of an exercise in nature kind of girl,” Sophie says, quirking her mouth in a way that looks both innocent and seductive at the same time. The craziest part? I don’t think she did it on purpose. It’s not like she’s trying to flirt or be tempting, she just is.
That shit should be illegal.
“Right,” I say, shaking my head and walking quickly back down the hallway. “Let me show you the backyard.”
The kids hear me mention going outside and tag along as I give Sophie a quick tour. I go over the safety protocols for the swimming pool, as much for Molly and Ryan’s benefit as Sophie’s. Molly has to remind me that she knows all of that stuff and rolls her eyes at me again, which leads to me lifting her up over my shoulder and tickling her for being such a little smarty pants.
Then Ryan gets in on the action, taking up for his sister, and the chase is on.
Sophie stands back, laughing and shaking her head at the chaos.
For a split second, everything seems so normal. I can’t remember the last time I felt like everything was in place. We’ve lived in such a constant state of upheaval since Lisa left, that I forgot what it was like to feel like I have a handle on my life.
Once the kids finish expending some energy, we all head back inside. Molly and Ryan run down the hallway toward their rooms, talking about some show they’re going to watch, and I show Sophie to the office so she can sign the contract.
Sitting in my office, I glance over the paperwork David sent over and try not to notice the way Sophie’s perfume—or maybe it’s just her—takes over the space.
“You’re a really good dad,” she says quietly as she picks up a photo from the bookcase on the back wall.
“I don’t know about that,” I tell her, reaching back to run my hand up the back of my neck and then through my hair. Exhaling, I pass the papers across the desk and give her back a little of the honesty she always seems to give me. “Most days I feel like I’m just trying not to mess them up too bad. I always joke with my sister that I’m saving up for therapy and college.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “We could probably all use a little therapy,” she says, sitting in the chair across from me and picking up the pen as she begins to read through the pages of the contract. “I don’t think any of us make it through childhood without a little trauma.”
“Even a politician’s daughter?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at her, but also to myself, because I wasn’t planning on divulging that little tidbit of information. It makes me sound like a stalker. If she wanted me to know she’s part of a political dynasty, she’d tell me.
Sophie chuckles again. “Especially a well-known politician’s daughter,” she says, looking up at me with all the confidence in the world, like she knows exactly who she is and she isn’t ashamed or afraid of it. She’s just Sophie Callahan, take it or leave it.
And damn it, I really like that about her.
“Sorry, my attorney who did the background check on you gave me a little more information than I needed… or asked for.” I want her to know I didn’t go digging that far into her personal life.
“It’s okay,” she says with a shrug of her slim shoulders, making those blonde, untamed waves fall to one side. “I’m used to people knowing who I am. Although, I will admit, I liked you not knowing. Any time I can get a bit of anonymity, it’s appreciated.”
“I understand that,” I tell her. “And I’m sorry.”
Waving me off, she goes back to the contract, quickly reading over the second page and then signing at the bottom. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not that big of a deal. Just because everyone knows the Callahans doesn’t mean they know me. So, as long as you don’t try to put me in a box, we’ll be fine.”
Feisty, I like that.
No.
No, I don’t.
I mean, I do, but… shit.
“There’s an NDA under there too,” I tell her, pointing to the other piece of paper. “It’s just out of precaution. I know it seems—”
“I get it,” she says, nailing me with those translucent blue eyes. “Privacy is important.”
Unable to look away from her, I nod. “Yeah, it is.”
After all the papers are signed and Sophie has a printout of the same information that’s in the binder in the kitchen, or the Thatcher Bible as I like to call it, I walk her down the hall to say goodbye to the kids. They both latch onto her like they’re never going to see her again, but finally let go when Sophie promises to be back bright and early on Wednesday.
“They’re such great kids,” she says when we reach the foyer. Grabbing her bag off the hook by the door, she slips the long strap over her head. “And I promise to take good care of them while you’re gone. I know that probably weighs on you when you’re on the road, but you don’t have anything to worry about… I mean, I know you worry, because that’s your job as a dad, but you don’t have to. I’ll guard them with my life.”
The spark that seems to ignite every time we’re around each other sizzles like static electricity, crackling in the air between us.
For a moment, she looks at me.
And I look at her.
And it feels like something is happening, but then Sophie lets out a choppy breath and reaches for the door. “I have to go,” she says abruptly, pulling it open. “I forgot I have to be somewhere.”
Practically running down the sidewalk, she throws a hand up over her shoulder, waving. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
When she’s gone and I step back inside the house, I close the door and press my back into it, wondering for the millionth time if I’m making a mistake.
Six months.
I can do anything for six months.