Because Flo McKennaisjust the nanny.
That’s all she is.
Our relationship is and will remain strictly professional.
“It’s my final evening here, Evan, and you can’t stop staring at her.” Gracie groans as she helps me plate up tonight’s meal. “Just invite her over for dinner, already.”
I pass Leo his plastic kids' bottle filled with juice to put on the table, glancing through the open window towards the cabin. Flo seems content in her own company, lying on a foldable beach chair out in the setting sun, a pair of large sunglasses propped up on the top of her head as she carefully manoeuvres a small threading needle through a white piece of fabric that lies over her stomach. The movements are quick and practised.
I sip from my mug.
“Coffee at this time?”
“I need it. And I’m not staring.”
“Whatever, liar. Stop being a grump and invite the poor girl over for dinner. She looks… upset.”
Leaning further through the window, I narrow my eyes to get a better view. Flo’s expression is hard to read as she gazes at the white fabric in concentration. She scratches at her—what I assume are sunburnt—legs, slightly agitated as she lets her fingernails grate against her skin, but she doesn’t look upset, like my sister suggests.
“Made you look. Again.” Gracie snorts. “Not that you’re complaining.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I shake my head, ensuring Leo is no longer in the room with us.
“Why does everyone insist on me fucking my nanny?”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything about fucking, big bro. You came up with that all on your own.” She gestures to the front door. “Now, go and invite her. Be polite. For once.”
I march towards the front door, giving up on arguing with my bossy younger sister, and trudge towards the large cabin.
Flo’s engrossed in her work, her tongue slightly poking out of her mouth as she holds a piece of white thread between her plump lips. It’s fascinating watching her work. Her fingers move so quickly, with so much precision. I’d stab myself until there was no blood left inside me if I were to attempt what she does, and I’m impressed with hownatural her movements are, like she could do this in her sleep.
I find myself slowing my pace just to watch her in her element for a few extra seconds.
Flo spots me, and she sits upright in the beach chair. Her slightly worn denim shorts ride up her sun-warmed thighs, drawing my attention, and she sweeps her long hair off her neck.
“Well, don’t you look in an even worse mood than usual,” she teases, placing the lacy white fabric on the grass by her feet. “Anything I can help with, boss?”
Ignoring the nickname, I clear my throat. “Have you eaten?”
Flo shakes her head, her lips tilting as she catches my drift. “I was just about to fix myself a sandwich.”
“Well, would you like to come over for dinner? We’ve got homemade veggie burgers.”
The question is foreign to me. I can’t remember the last time I invited a woman into my home for anything other than caring for Leo, especially for something as casual as dinner.
As if contemplating, Flo taps her chin with her forefinger, her metallic-coloured nails hitting the sunrays. “I’d love to come over for dinner.” She stands, and her midriff looks warm, flushed from the rays. Once she catches me looking, a smile flickers across her face.
A knowing smile.
“Are you always this thorough with your nanny inspection? I can do a twirl if it’ll help?”
My eyes narrow into slits. “I’m not inspecting you.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Except nothing helps me sleep at night. I’m lucky if I get four or five hours a night. My mind is constantly spinning.
“Were you invited to Mae’s birthday party this weekend?” Flo questions as we stroll towards the main house.
“Yes.”
