Now her eyes are tearing up. Not the response I wanted. “Anders…”
“You can’t say my name like that if you expect me to have boundaries with you.”
“Okay, then.” She sighs gustily, swiping at her wet eyes, then digs through her purse on the credenza. She produces a small spiral notebook and a pink pen with a big pom pom on top. “I want to be here. I love taking care of Immy. You need a nanny, no distractions, and for this film to do well. We both need this to work. We need rules.” She opens the notebook and positions the pen to write, like we’re going to do this right here in the foyer.
“Not sure how a rule is different from a boundary, but” — I chuckle — “fine. Let’s sit. We can talk this out and you can make as many rules as you want, Sunflower.”
“No, sir. I’ll stay right here. You are dangerous. In fact, I’ll go first.” She scribbles on the paper. “You aren’t allowed to call me Sunflower.”
When I look over her shoulder I see that she’s numbering this list of absurd rules. “But your name is Sunflower—”
“Number two.” She’s writing like her pen has a lit fuse. “No more cologne or whatever it is that makes you smell like that.”
Oh yeah? Two can play at this game. “Gimme that.” I snatch the pen and notebook from her hands and scrawl out a rule of my own. She tries to peek before I’m done writing and I have to spin away from her. She’s fast, though. She swipes the book from my hands and turns away from me before I can stop her.
“No glasses? You expect me to be half blind until I’m done nannying Immy?”
I scoff. “Don’t you have contacts? Wear those.”
“Sometimes I can’t! My eyes get dry!” She yanks the pen away from me by the dumb pom pom. “Why do you have to wear cologne? Are you trying to get Micah’s attention?”
That’s a low blow, and she knows it. She knows I spend my day around men and she’s heard me muttering about Micah more than once. She knows the cologne has to be for her. I steal the pen back and jot down another rule that I don’t necessarily want to enforce. “That’s it! No more pencils in your hair! I’m disallowing hair pencils of any kind!”
She gasps in outrage, elbowing my arm and taking the pen. “Fine! Then you have to wear long sleeves. And gloves! Your arms and hands shall not be visible around me.” She’s gaining steam now, scribbling in the notebook with a scowl that I want to kiss off of her face. “And you’re not allowed to sing to Immy in my presence!”
“Pffft! When have I ever done that?”
“You haven’t, but she says you do that sometimes, and I will have none of it.” I swear I see smoke coming from the pen while she writes. Her handwriting is less legible with every rule.
I put my fists on my hips. “This is a list of nos. Gimme some yesses, Sun…ny.” Now that her given name is off limits, it’s all I want to call her. “What am I allowed to do around you?”
Her lips twist to the side while she thinks. “Be as disgusting as possible.” She grins. “Really stink the place up. Also, you can call me Nanny Sunny. Be inconsiderate and self-absorbed. Forget to text me when you’re going to work late. Stuff like that.”
“No.” I’m not doing that. I give her my most stern look, and I see her melt—not the effect I intended. “But I have an idea.”
“O…kay?”
“We can text each other.” I’m looking forward to this. I’m excited, actually. “I promise, this will be good. It’ll force me to behave myself. Christopher will be happy. And I’ll still get…” I trail off. I can’t say what I’m thinking.
“You’ll still get…?” Her eyebrow quirks.
“I’ll still get time with you.” I take a step backwards. I can’t admit this when I’m standing too close to her. I lower my voice, in case Ollie has the place bugged. “The longer I know you, the more I feel like I need to be around you. You’re sort of addictive.”
Her cheeks turn rosy. “Addictive, huh? That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s terrible.”
She pulls her phone out of her purse and swipes it open. “Okay. I’ll start.” She taps out a quick message. I’m not surprised that she has my number. Oliver gave it to her on day one. She’s just never used it until now, much to my dismay.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I fish it out and scramble to unlock it. Her updated contact name on my phone makes me grin.
SUNFLOWER
I better go home. Have a good night, Mr. Beck.
I shoot a quick, knee-jerk reaction text in return.
ANDERS
