Page 35 of The Nanny Game Plan
Fuck.
I can’t let her keep being my nanny. Can I?
It’s too weird, too uncomfortable. It feels wrong in ways I can easily lay out and other, more subtle ways that I can’t.Becoming the employer of someone you recently had a romantic relationship with is sketchy, even if that “romantic” relationship lasted all of three hours.
I know that. Clover likely knows that, too. That’s why she sent that preemptive text. If I don’t fire her, some part of her will likely assume I’m a creep.
But ifdofire her, she’llalsoassume I’m a creep. She clearly needs this job. And, if her text is to be believed, she alsowantsthis job. She feels called to be here for my girls, like some divine hand intervened to ensure she was the one here instead of someone else.
But I don’t believe in Fate.
If Fate were real, my ex-wife would still be alive. Frederica didn’t deserve to die, and my girls certainly don’t deserve to learn about this kind of pain so young. Or to live the rest of their lives without their mother.
Though, to be fair, I don’t think anyone ever said Fate was kind. Or just. I seem to remember Carl Sagan saying something about Fate—and the universe—being completely indifferent to human desires, in fact.
Wishing I’d paid closer attention in Introduction to Astronomy, I head downstairs.
I should just stick to the plan I worked out on the way home.
It’s a solid plan, a fair plan. This was all a misunderstanding, after all, not anyone’s fault, not even the agency’s. I’ll just pay Clover for a full week, give her a glowing reference, and explain to Tasha that the reason I need another nanny ASAP has nothing to do with Clover’s abilities.
It’s all me.
Me, and the fact that I still can’t look at the woman without wanting to kiss her.
Hard.
Up against the door or the wall or those cabinets she’s currently wiping down…
As I step into the kitchen, I do my best not to let my gaze drift to the round curve of her ass in her jeans. Instead, I force my gaze to the now clean kitchen table, remembering how happy the girls looked when I walked in. How relaxed and at ease. How normal.
God, all I want for them is “normal.”
But is it “normal” for me to hire a woman I can’t stop having filthy dreams about to be their nanny? I would obviously do everything in my power not to cross any lines, but vibes are vibes.
And there arevibeshere. Serious ones.
They sizzle through the air as Clover turns, her eyes widening as they meet mine. “Hey. The girls down?”
“Yeah. They are.” Ignoring the wave of awareness flooding through my chest, attempting to spread to lower, more forbidden places, I add, “So…I got your text.”
She nods, setting the dish towel beside the sink before crossing her arms. “Okay. Good.” Her shoulders inch higher as she shifts from her good leg to her bad one, then back again with a slight wince. “So, what do you think?”
I motion toward the table. “Let’s sit down. You’re probably worn out after running around after the girls all morning.”
Her jaw tightens as she smiles. “I wasn’trunningafter them. Obviously.” She casts a pointed look down before meeting my gaze again. “But I didn’t have any problems keeping up with them or taking care of them, if that’s what you’re asking. I promise, I didn’t. If I had, I would tell you. I would never want my injury to put a child at risk, not even for a second. But I feel confident that I can care for the girls, I really do. Now, if they were a little younger or not so well-behaved, maybe I would have concerns, but I?—”
“No, please,” I cut in. “I’m not worried about that.”
She arches a brow.
“I’m really not,” I assure her. “I trust you. I believe you’d tell me if you didn’t think you could physically handle the job.”
She hesitates a beat, searching my face before she nods, her expression softening. “Thanks. I appreciate that. And I promise, if you decide to keep me on, I won’t make you regret it.”
I pull in a breath, letting it out slow as I motion toward the table again. “Please, sit. I’ll put on another pot of coffee, and we can talk this through over caffeine.”
She laughs and jabs a thumb toward the coffeepot. “Already going. Should be ready in a few minutes. Great minds think alike, I guess.”
