Page 11 of Falling for Her

I snort. “You basically attacked me when I walked in the room. You accused me of speeding, even though there is no evidence that it was me you saw. Unless you have a tape somewhere that we can replay?” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. “I rest my case, your honor. Now, do you want to do this or do you want to say you failed again?”

He takes a second to think about what to say next, and my head screams at me to just turn around, walk out, and not bother with any of this. But let’s face it, I need to stay somewhere. Even though Collins and Theo have been super welcoming, the last thing they need is me crashing into their lives when they have just started dating each other. Talk about cockblocking.

“Fine,” he practically hisses, “come with me.”

Don’t say anything to change his mind, my inner voice screams at me. I literally could be on a beach somewhere or holed up in the fanciest hotel room, but I would be alone. At least here with this job, I’d be close to Collins, and I’d also have something to keep my mind off the disaster that my life has become. “I’d love to.” I clench my teeth after saying the words.

“I will save the tour for later.” He looks over his shoulder at me as he walks down the hallway, and I take a second to look around. A white wooden table with one little lamp and a potted plant is right in front of what looks like an office. A big mirror hangs above the table. We pass a little entrance on the left with a white built-in shelf with three hooks in the middle, two jackets, and a couple of sweaters hanging. The bench under the hooks has a backpack in the corner, and there are three drawers under that, which are closed and probably hold their shoes.

Past the stairs that lead to the bedrooms, we enter the open floor plan, with the family room on one side and the kitchen/living room on the other. He turns toward the family room, and I take in the back wall, with a fireplace in the middle and two windows on each side. Above the fireplace is a black mantel and then a giant television. I’m not surprised in the least that he has such a big television; it takes up most of the wall. There are two white cabinets under each window, one of them holding a bunch of books and the other one looks like it holds decorations.

“Where would you like to sit?” he asks me when my eyes find the picture of his son on top of the cabinet.

I look at the long couch that seats three people and then at the love seats on each side. “I’m going to sit right here,” I say, deciding on the love seat next to the frame. I want to say I did it because it’s closest to the door, but it’s to see the picture better. The big black square coffee table in the middle of the room holds three candles, and I have to wonder if they’re just for show or if he actually lights them. Two remotes are casually thrown on top of the table as well.

“Then I’ll sit facing you.” He walks to the chair right across from me, sitting down. He puts his hand on the armrest and looks at me. I drink in his caramel eyes, taking a second.

“Shall we get started?” I ask him, nerves filling my body. My stomach feels like it’s spinning like a washing machine. My hands are getting all clammy and I hold them tightly in my lap.

“Sure,” he gives in. “Let’s start with the easy questions.”

“Let’s.”

“Can you describe your experience working with children of different ages?”

My head barks out a laugh. I have never really been around children, so this should be fun. “I like children of all ages,” I start, and then smile at him. “Although if I had to pinpoint my favorite age, it would be somewhere between seven and ten.” Collins did say Asa was eight, didn’t she?

“Why not older?”

Shit, balls, motherfucker. “I mean, I like those ages also. It’s just the older they are, the more—” . . . like assholes they are. “I just get along better with younger children.”

“Do you have experience with children who have allergies?”

Wait, that’s actually a thing? “Yes.” I nod my head while my brain screams at me: Run out of the fucking house and just chalk it up to this entire thing being a bad idea. “I mean, I would assume you would give me directions to make sure I know what to avoid and what to do if your son has a reaction. Everyone has different reactions. I only found out I was allergic to beer last year when someone handed me one with lime, and my nose started to get itchy. I thought it was just from being outside, but the next week I had fish and chips, and the same thing happened again. I thought I was allergic to limes, but when I asked them about it, they said there was no lime in the beer batter.” You should really shut the fuck up right about now. “Anyway, safe to say I’m not going to be giving your child beer.” I laugh nervously. “That has to be a plus one for me.”

He doesn’t reply to that. “Are you CPR certified?”

“Um,” I smirk at him, “I actually am. Bet you didn’t think so. But I got it last summer.” I pretend to brush the hair off my forehead. “Next question.”

He stares at me, clearly unsure of where to go from here.

“Have you ever been a nanny before?”

I sort of snort-laugh. “I have not.” I haven’t worked a day in my life. I leave that out. “However, I never back down from a challenge.” His head tilts to the side. “I mean, not that watching your son would be a challenge. It’s more of a learning experience . . . for a better term.”

“So we’re your guinea pigs?” His eyebrows go up.

“Everyone starts somewhere, don’t they?” When he doesn’t reply, I continue, “Like, did you not have a first day on the job?” Again, he just stares at me. “So you had to learn what you were doing. You probably weren’t good at your job on day one. You had to learn.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Now he doesn’t give me a chance to answer him, he just hits me with another question. “What is your approach to discipline?”

“I’m going to have to discipline your child?” The words come out of my mouth before I can even stop them, and he just looks at me. “I mean, is it really my place to do that?”

“Well, you will be with him for the majority of the day, so yeah.”

“Right, and I’m assuming you are going to be the one who will give him the rules.”

“What if he doesn’t follow the rules?”