Frankie sighs, glancing out the window as if still planning an escape. “We need to discuss my hours. I can’t be on the clock twenty-four-seven.”
“Wondering how long it would take.” I grab a set of keys and slide them across the counter. “For the house and your car.”
She glares at the fob. “I don’t have a car.”
“It’s an employee perk.”
“How thoughtful.” Her cutting tone suggests the opposite.
I straighten to my full height. “You’ll be driving Ronnie around. She isn’t allowed on your motorcycle.”
“Speaking of, where’s my bike?”
“In the garage. One of the guys dropped it off earlier.”
“One of the guys,” Frankie repeats. “There better not be a scratch on her.”
My features harden. “I’m not careless.”
She wrinkles her nose. “But you’re granting me access to the palace.”
“It’s not my finest decision, but Bianca and Colton vouched for you. Mostly. And again, it’s for taking care of Ronnie.”
“Of course.”
I study her in silence for a moment. My gaze rakes over her disheveled appearance. Frankie could’ve taken off easily enough, but chose to stick around. That tells me more than her snarky retorts.
My head cocks to the side. “Can I trust you?”
“No.”
Gruff laughter rumbles from me. “At least you’re honest.”
She inspects her chipped nails. “Wouldn’t go that far.”
“I’m not gonna keep you on a leash. Just do right by Ronnie. That’s all I ask.”
“Message received.” She goes quiet again, skewering me with her laser focus. “Don’t let this inflate your ego, but you’re a really good dad.” The pinch in her features makes it look like that’s painful to admit.
“I’m just a dad.”
Frankie shoots me a flat stare. “I’ve met my fair share of crappy ones—my own sperm donor very much included—which makes me somewhat of an expert. Take my word for it. You’re a good dad.”
Warmth spreads through me, but that’s from the heat kicking on. “Now who’s trying to be sweet?”
“Meh.” She waves off my words. “It’s just an act so you’ll lower your guard. I’m crooked like that.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” I say.
“So I’ve heard.”
A thought occurs to me, growing roots meant to last. “Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?”
Frankie cackles, losing herself to a one-sided joke. “Very funny.”
“How about Christmas?”
She wipes unshed tears from her lashes. “Just me, myself, and I singing carols that have lost their cheer.”