Page 21 of Denial
“I should get going. I was on my way to the grocery store before I decided to stop over.”
“How did you know where I’m staying?”
He fixes me with what is becoming his signature look. “Spencer is my brother.”
“The guy bringing over the sublease for me to sign?”
“That’s the one.”
“Figures,” I mutter.
“What’s that?”
“I’m glad we were able to clear a few things up.”
Sutton walks to the door. He clicks the handle and activates the springs, then turns his chin over his shoulder. “Monday. Be there by seven o’clock.”
I throw up a mock salute. “See you then, Sutton.”
He holds my gaze for a beat, then departs.
I slouch back into the wooden chair, fighting to ignore the tiny flutter in my chest and the stronger one between my thighs.
An unlisted number appears on my watch screen before I can investigate the feeling any further. I decline the call and get up, determined to unpack a few of these boxes before I need to walk to the community center.
I’ll show him.
I’m about to be the best damn nanny Sutton Stone has ever encountered.
5
Sutton
Water beadsonto my chest as I scrub a second towel over my hair, the first snug around my hips. I swipe at the droplets with the soft cotton before tossing the extra towel over the recliner in my living room at the top of the stairs. I’ll pick it up in a few minutes when I head back down to get dressed.
“Merit.” I call my dog with a sharp whistle and walk to the back door. My faithful German shepherd trots out into the fenced yard to take care of her morning business. I fill a clean bowl with fresh water and leave her food bowl for Nellie to fill with kibble.
“Nellie-Jo, you hungry?” I call down the hall. I’ve always considered myself a morning person, but she has me beat most days. The few times a year she isn’t up before me are usually because she’s sick.
My little morning bird pokes her head out of her playroom with a sleepy grin.
“Can I have bacon?”
I close my eyes and tip my head back, rubbing the stubble on my chin. “I don’t know, Buttercup. We’re short on time.”
“Please, Daddy! I’m tired of cereal.”
“You love cereal,” I object, but I can already feel my resistance crumble.
“No, I don’t. It’s gross and dry.”
“That’s because you don’t eat it with any milk.”
“Milk makes it soggy.”
I glance at my watch. I have thirty minutes to wrap this up, get dressed, and have Nellie ready for school before Ms. Thompson shows up.
Ifshe shows up.
