“No. I thought about putting her in preschool, but it seemed too soon after she came to live with me.”
“Allergies, medical issues? I’ll need her doctor’s phone number and your medical insurance card, should anything come up.”
“I have those.” He pulled a clipboard out of a drawer and slid it across to her. An insurance card was clipped to it over a piece of paper with the information she’d requested, along with names and numbers of emergency contacts.
When she looked up, he said, “What else?”
“Dislikes? Quirks?”
“Charlotte needs structure. She needs to know you can be trusted. I know things happen, but please do your best to make good on your commitments. A lot of people in her life have failed to do that.”
“I understand. My goal is for her to trust me, to know she can count on me. That’s a vital part of my job.”
He dipped his head, a quick acknowledgment. “She enjoys being with kids, but she needs to be able to step in or step out if she gets overwhelmed. I think she shuts down when there’s too much chaos, but that’s just a theory. I will say that when there are a lot of people around, she tends to wander off.”
“Like yesterday?”
“Exactly like yesterday.” By the dark look that crossed his features, he was still angry with the former nanny.
“My sister was like that,” Delaney said. “I’d tell her to stay here or go there, and…she wasn’t disobedient, just easily distracted. I learned from Kenzie that kids need to be watched all the time.”
“Okay, good. Let’s see…” He stroked the short whiskers on his chin. “Oh, she doesn’t like pizza.”
“Really?”
“Go figure.” His lips quirked at one corner. “She’s been through…a lot.” His gaze flicked to the ceiling, then back to Delaney. “I want her to make friends and be happy. I’m just…I’m in the middle of this thing at work. I’m finding it hard to balance that and parenting.”
“It’s not easy. I’m sure you’re doing great.” Delaney had worked for enough families to know it was hard for two parents who worked to take care of their kids. How would a single man do it? A man who wasn’t even the child’s father?
“I guess that’s about…” His voice faded, and his serious expression morphed into a smile aimed beyond her.
Delaney turned one second before Charlotte collided with her. She didn’t say anything, just held up her arms.
She lifted the precious girl, who was far too light for her age. Her hair was a mop of messy curls, her pink pajama pants twisted around her waist.
She was adorable.
The thought brought her mind back to the stranger in the park, who may or may not have been watching her. And the intruder who’d set off the alarm.
There had been a time when Delaney would have brushed away her worries, but between Dad’s horrifying stories and everything her family had been through in the last couple of years, she knew trials and danger could strike anywhere.
Lord, protect this little one. Help her uncle and me to keep her safe.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On any other morning, Charlotte would have walked to Noah, arms up, silently requesting her morning hug. Not today. The little traitor had barely glanced at him before going to Miss Wright, looking up with wide, expectant eyes.
His niece and her nanny were already bonding. It’d taken him weeks to break through Charlotte’s defenses when Jasper had first brought her here. Noah hadn’t hired a nanny right away, knowing Charlotte needed to understand that she could trust him to be available for her in a way no adult had been before.
He’d spent time with her, played with her, hugged her tiny little body, and cursed her selfish parents for all the neglect she’d already endured. He’d stayed up late after her bedtime every night to get his work done, choosing to spend the bulk of his waking hours with her. He’d talked to her and joked with her and gone for walks with her. It’d still been warm enough to swim in the ocean when she first came, and he’d given her swimming lessons at the beach.
Noah had no idea how to be a father, but he was learning. He was trying.
He figured good fathers didn’t get jealous when their kids bonded with other people. Charlotte hadn’t been like this with Mrs. Dechambeau. The former nanny hadn’t been nearly as sweet as Miss Wright.
He shook himself out of his stupor and started breakfast. Bread in the toaster, eggs out of the fridge.
He took his time breaking them, whisking them, pouring them into the warm skillet while the nanny bent over a book with Charlotte at the kitchen table.
