My (Mostly) Temporary Nanny: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy Page 3

  Luca and Lindsey were that one inexplicable couple that had stayed together since middle school. Literally. Lindsey and I became friends at marine science camp, and just a few months after that, she met Luca. Now the two dorks were happily married, more or less.

  Luca went over to screw up Griff’s hair and do his usual round of teasing and play fighting. Lindsey gave me a jumping hug that nearly knocked me over.

  It had been three years since Griff and I lost our parents, and Lindsey still hadn’t stopped treating me just a little like some fragile thing that might break without a gushing of emotional support. And I still hadn’t decided if I appreciated it or found it grating.

  Either way, I hugged her back, then eventually pushed her away because she refused to be the one to end a hug. Lindsey wore her short hair in a different color every month. Usually, her glasses and shoes were selected to match her hair, and tonight was no exception. It was purple across the board.

  Luca was lanky, smooth skinned and pocked with prominent moles on his face that I’d always found unconventionally attractive. He finished messing with Griff just as Lindsey and I sat down in a booth. Some rogue part of my brain decided to point out that I’d chosen the same one Jack had sat in with Damon and Chris a few nights ago. Luca hopped next to Lindsey and threw his long arm around her shoulder, squeezing her in.

  “As usual, you two have nothing better to do than terrorize me while I’m trying to work?”

  Lindsey crossed her arms. “Work? When we came up to the door, it looked like you were lip syncing into your mop handle and doing a whole lot of not mopping.”

  “I’ve been here since this morning. I can take a few seconds off.”

  “What’s up with Griff?” Luca asked.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see he was still hunched over his artwork. “There was this guy here the other night. His kid had a sketchpad and Griff seemed really into it. I’m wondering if it sparked some sort of interest? Maybe he’s practicing for a career in graffiti or something?”

  “Hmm,” Lindsey said. She leaned forward, scrutinizing me.

  “What?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Because your pupils dilated and your skin flushed right after you said, ‘this guy.’”

  I had to fight not to roll my eyes. Lindsey had an undergraduate degree in psychology and was obsessed with crime shows. She thought the combination made her a mind reader.

  “So?” she asked. “What’s the story you’re not telling about this guy?”

  Luca looked from Lindsey to me, and then back to Lindsey. He wore a proud smile once he apparently decided that she’d correctly dug the truth out of thin air.

  Lucky guess. “I may have sort of agreed to be a nanny for the guy’s son. And the guy may kind of be a famous MLB pitcher. Jack Kerrigan…”

  Lindsey reached across the table to punch me in the arm triumphantly.

  “Ow,” I said, rubbing the spot.

  “I knew it! Remember you always had a thing for that Patrick guy back in high school? The one who was on the baseball team?”

  “Patrick was the equipment manager.”

  Lindsey brushed this off as if it wasn’t important. “So,” she continued, looking immensely pleased with herself. “When’s the wedding?”

  I shook my head. “Actually, I really like his kid. He’s sweet and I think I can help him open up some. That’s all this is about. And, well, Jack is going to pay me ten thousand dollars a month.”

  Another punch thwacked into my other shoulder. At least Lindsey was considerate enough to spread the pain around, I guessed.

  “I should’ve known.” She leaned back, focusing on something far off as she rubbed at her lower lip. “But what’s his real game here? Exorbitant price for a nanny. A deranged child. What’s the angle?” All that was missing was the moment where she dramatically turned and posed her questions to some invisible camera.

  “I never said his son was deranged. I said he was sweet, and I thought I could help him. He also really seemed to get along with Griff.”

  Lindsey ignored me, then slapped her palm on the table. “Maybe it’s one of those BDSM sex auction cults.”

  Luca nodded slowly, as though the pieces were falling into place for him. “Yeah. That would explain a lot.”

  I sighed. The only explanation I wanted was why I got saddled with two nutcases for friends.

  7

  Jack

  Damon Rose rubbed a palm across his face, then sank back in the chair in his high-rise office at Rose Athletic. Behind him, Manhattan was being bathed in the rich orange glow of the setting sun. A few stray beams sliced into Damon’s office, highlighting the fact that there didn’t seem to be a single mote of dust floating through the sterile space.

  The office was deadly quiet, and I knew just outside my son was waiting by the receptionist with his little drawing pad.

  “You need more time,” Damon repeated. It wasn’t exactly a statement or a question. It was more like he was trying to turn the phrase over and search it for vulnerabilities.

  “He’s my son,” I said. “I need to watch the two of them together until I’m comfortable leaving her alone with Ben.”

  Damon met my eyes, then drummed his fingers on the desk. “It’s been a week since we made our proposal. How many times have you watched her with Ben?”

  “Once,” I said. The truth was I’d wanted to give myself time to cool off. Something about the conversation she and I had over coffee left me buzzing with strange emotions. Excitement. Hope. They were things I’d learned to decide belonged to other people. The only thing at the end of the tunnel those feelings led to was disappointment. To women who bailed on their kids and the lives they lied about wanting.

  “The season starts in two weeks,” Damon said.

  I felt everything he wasn’t saying. I felt how it weighed on both of us. If I was going to reverse my decision and tell the team I’d be coming back, I didn’t have long to do it. Maybe they would shuffle around the roster for me, and they probably would. But I knew how Damon operated. He was a professional. He was the professional. He was the only agent I knew of that intimidated the coaches, and part of that reputation was professionalism.

  Telling your team you suddenly wanted to play again and making them scramble at the last minute was not the way Damon operated. I knew he’d do whatever he could to avoid me dragging him into that, and I couldn’t completely blame the man. It was his business, but it was also my life.

  “I’ll know before then,” I said.

  “Good.”

  “She’s coming tonight, actually.” I clenched my fists on my thighs, resenting how saying those few words aloud had lit a rush of excitement in me.

  Damon leaned his elbows on the table, templing his fingers. “I get where you’re coming from. It may not seem like it, but I do. If I thought Luna needed me, I’d walk away from all of this in a heartbeat. So I don’t hold it against you.”

  I nodded.

  Damon held up a long finger, meeting my eye. “However. I wouldn’t be where I am if I didn’t find ways to overcome challenges like this. And that’s all we’re dealing with. A challenge.”

  I thought about that, then wondered why I felt like I was dealing with two challenges. One was finding a way to fix whatever I’d apparently done to cause my son to withdraw into himself. The other was navigating this nanny situation without selfishly pursuing something else. Something I wanted. Something completely separate from the idea of Nola helping Ben.

  Yes, Ben would always come first. But there was something else lurking in the shadow of that desire.

  The fact that I wanted to help myself as well. To the nanny.

  8

  Nola

  I knelt down outside Jack’s apartment and tried to straighten Griff’s hair. I licked my thumb and reached for his head. He had dad’s color and not a touch of the red mom had passed on to me. But he also had a stubborn chunk of hair right above his forehead that
was as obstinate as he was.

  Griff swiped at my hands, bobbing and weaving like a prize fighter while I tried to corral him and fix the cowlick. Eventually, I had to bear hug him from the back and smooth it down while he was practically kicking and screaming.

  “If you don’t stop fighting me, I swear to God I will end your devious little existence.”

  Griff was laughing in high pitched tones as he tried to reach around and tickle my armpits. I finally pinned his arms and got the hair on his head straightened.

  I let him down, breathing out a sigh of frustration, then turned to ring the doorbell.

  But the door already stood open and Jack was standing there with his arms folded and a curious look on his face. As always, he looked immaculately rugged in a charcoal gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans that hugged his long, athletic legs.

  A small sound escaped my throat. “Horseplay,” I said in a near whisper.

  “Yeah,” Griff agreed. “Nola is a horse who likes to play.” He made an obnoxious neigh sound and then mock galloped past Jack like he owned the place.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Pretend I’m not here,” Jack said. He held up a small notepad and a pencil. “I want to see how you’d handle a day of looking after Ben when I’m gone.”

  I had to stare at the notepad for a few seconds before what he said sunk in. Pretend Jack Kerrigan isn’t here. Pretend he wasn’t in the room? I imagined that would be nearly impossible, considering he was already sexually assaulting all five of my senses—yes, I was even unable to stop from imagining whether his lips would taste as good as they looked.

  Against my better judgment, I let my eyes trail from the square lines of his face and the dark scruff of his beard to his body. It was purpose built for athleticism, and it only took a glance to see. He didn’t have the bulging neck muscles and disproportions of a bodybuilder. He was built the same way I’d seen farmhands from old photos were built. There was a gorgeous kind of symmetry to him—a functionality that made every hard, muscular bulge and crease seem more sexy.

  Jack dipped his chin a little, capturing my attention again. “Is that alright?”

  “Yes, it’s perfect,” I said, feeling my eyes drift back to his stomach. Even through his shirt, I could see the subtle bulge of abs pressing against the fabric. I found myself wondering if he kept himself manscaped or let whatever hair he had run wild. I also found myself realizing I wouldn’t care either way. No, I thought. I don’t need to care, because I’m never going to find out.

  Jack gestured for me to go in and get started, I assumed.

  Sure enough, he followed several steps after me with his pencil in hand, eyes focused like a psychologist studying a particularly interesting patient.

  Jesus. This was going to be weird. I felt immature for even thinking it, but I liked the way his eyes were supposed to stay locked on me for this entire experience. It felt oddly personal and intimate.

  Cool it, Nola. The guy was screening me for a job. Nothing else.

  Griff had already sat across from Ben at the same little table I’d seen him using to draw on my first visit. Griff was drawing something while Ben watched with interest. When he finished, Griff spun the paper around and waited.

  Ben studied it, then scrunched up his little eyebrows. “What is it?”

  Griff looked slightly disappointed, but one of the few good things about my brother was that he wasn’t easily discouraged. “It was supposed to be one of those things in your sketchbook. The little guys with three arms, remember?”

  Ben nodded wisely. Even though I was conscious of Jack’s gaze practically burning into my back, I didn’t interrupt the two of them as they had an impromptu drawing class with Ben as the teacher and Griff as the shockingly respectful student.

  From there, the job practically did itself. I spent the majority of my time following behind the boys and tidying up as they made a slow, purposeful path through the house. Drawing, action figures, then drawing action figures, then a show, then more drawing. I had to remind them to stop for lunch, which I prepared from Jack’s hilariously bachelor-level stockpile of food. It was mostly cereal, peanut butter, oatmeal, and various packages and cans of things that might survive the apocalypse.

  I broke the “pretend I’m not here” rule while the boys were eating lunch and went over to where Jack sat with his notebook. “Do you seriously feed him from that fridge and pantry?”

  Jack looked up from his page, which was somehow full of little notes in his surprisingly neat but small handwriting. My gaze shifted to the words when I noticed a sentence written in slightly thicker, darker lines. “Focus, dumbass.” Before I could double check to make sure I’d read what I thought I read, Jack flipped the paper over and looked up at me.

  “I’ll give you more money to pick up groceries if you’d prefer.”

  “You’re already paying me way too much. I think I can handle using some of it to get food that’s appropriate for kids.”

  “No. I’ll make it eleven thousand per month.”

  I arched an eyebrow. I had to remind myself that compared to the millions he probably made, another thousand was probably like telling me I could check his couch for coins every once in a while. “Does that mean I passed your little test? Am I hired?”

  Jack didn’t answer right away, but he looked toward Griff and Ben, who were talking quietly and pointing to something on the table between them. “Yes. I want you immediately, if that’s possible.”

  I felt my forehead scrunch up at his word choice. “Um. Can I at least shower first?” I said, making the joke before I had time to think if it was wise.

  Jack’s eyes snapped up. He lowered his head, rubbing his eyes and sighing. “I haven’t been sleeping much lately. Yes. You’re hired. That’s what I meant to say.”

  Focus, dumbass. I want you immediately.

  I studied Jack as he reached to stuff his notepad in a backpack across the room and wondered. I was pretty sure I learned about some psychological thing in school where people didn’t actually misspeak. Instead, they blurted their subconscious desires when their filter malfunctioned.

  Suddenly, I felt like my interest in psychology tripled. Except the idea that Jack Kerrigan could actually be interested in a nobody waitress like me felt too far-fetched.

  Fantasizing about the obviously gorgeous athlete until now had felt safe. It felt safe because no part of me believed there was any overlap between my fantasy and reality. Now I wasn’t so sure. Even if it was just a seed of doubt, I could still feel it sinking into fertile dirt, spreading out roots.

  9

  Jack

  I met Nola at the playground on East 110th in Central Park. I always found it a little off putting to be in the park, where the sounds of birds and laughter mingled with the muffled roar of engines and an occasional series of car horns.

  I wore a black baseball cap, sunglasses, and a jacket to make my best effort at drawing no attention to myself. I’d still get stopped by the occasional mega-fan, but at least I wouldn’t create the snowball effect that sometimes happened when too many people recognized me and started following. Before long, there’d be a literal mob of people who didn’t even know what the original excitement was all about.

  I watched Ben crouched down in a bare patch of dirt as he scratched something into the ground with a sharp stick. He looked so small and fragile. It made me think of what I’d thrust on him. No kid asked to have a famous dad or to feel the national spotlight swing its hot, blazing glare anywhere near him.

  Maybe it wasn’t so shocking that he’d shown more and more signs of withdrawing into himself lately. Hell, most days I felt like doing the same.

  I caught myself frowning when I spotted Nola coming down the path with Griff’s hand in hers. She was wearing a flowery sundress that showed off her milky, freckled legs. There was an alluring quality to her shockingly red hair and pale skin. It made her look untouched, as if even the sun hadn’t been allowed to kiss her skin.


  I shifted on the bench, feeling an uncomfortable swelling at that idea.

  Nola really did seem untouchable. No. Not untouchable. Untouched.

  I decided that was the difference. She’d somehow kept the world from sullying her, but there she was for the taking. Right in the open, where it could only be moments before some asshole would come along and take what should have been—

  Fuck. I pressed my palms into my thighs, trying to get a hold of myself. What was I about to think? Take what should have been mine? Did I think just because I’d hired her that she now belonged to me?

  With considerable effort, I peeled my thoughts away from the mess in my head and tried to focus on something else. Except that something else was Nola bending down to scratch in the dirt with Griff. I found the little “V” shape of the thong she wore beneath her dress as it pressed against the fabric above her ass.

  I closed my eyes, because it was the only way to stop myself from making an absolute creep out of myself and staring.

  A few seconds later, I heard a small chuckle. “Did I catch you napping?” Nola was tilting her head and looking down curiously at me when I opened my eyes.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said stiffly.

  “Sure. Griff always bugs me to come here, but I usually can’t make myself brave the Manhattan traffic. I’m glad we came, though. It’s beautiful out.”

  I nodded, trying not to dwell too long on the gentle curves of her face that were catching the morning sun—the pink softness of her lips.

  “So,” she said, smoothing her dress across her thighs. “Your season starts in a week, right? At least that was what my phone said when I looked it up.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “And you’re going to play now?”

  I nodded.

  “Damon and Chris must be happy.”

  “Chris is always happy. And Damon is relieved. I think the only thing that actually makes him happy is his family.”