He eavesdropped on their conversation.
“Is that the one you like best?” Delaney asked.
“Uh-uh.” She was sitting at the table, swinging her legs.
“Which one is your favorite?”
Charlotte indicated a picture in the book.
Catty-corner from her, Miss Wright studied whatever she’d pointed at, giving her the kind of attention Noah reserved for financial reports.
She didn’t seem to be performing for him, or if she was, she had perfected the art. She pointed at something in the book. “What about that one?”
Charlotte shook her head and pointed at something else.
“I love his curled tail,” Miss Wright said. “That’s called an Akita.”
Oh. They were looking at the dogbook.
Charlotte must’ve said something because Delaney said, “You’ll have to ask your uncle.”
For an Akita?
Right. Because nothing said “family pet” like a Japanese attack dog.
Noah regretted having checked out the library book that described all the different breeds. He’d found it interesting. His niece treated it like a catalog of possibilities.
“That one.” Pointing again, Charlotte’s eyes went dreamy.
“I think that’s a wolf. Wolves are…tricky.” Miss Wright tapped her nose theatrically. “Do you think your uncle would let a wolf into the house?”
Charlotte’s little shoulders drooped. For the first time since she’d walked in, Charlotte looked at him. “Uncle Noah doesn’t like dogs.” A full sentence, spoken in front of the new nanny, loudly enough for him to hear.
That was progress.
“I never said I didn’t like dogs.” He turned down the fire under the eggs. “I don’t have time to train a dog.”
“We could, right?” The question was directed at Miss Wright.
The nanny’s gaze flicked to him, her wide eyes pleading for him to answer that question.
She was the new favorite. Let her crush Charlotte’s hopes and dreams.
Miss Wright must’ve guessed his answer because her expression shifted to a sickly-sweet smile. “That’s up to your uncle. I’ll do whatever he says.”
The toast popped up, and Noah focused on buttering it so she couldn’t see his smile. She was a shrewd one. But also, despite her obvious youth, she knew a lot about kids.
He’d spent the last decade in boardrooms and attending business functions, cultivating a poker face and a reputation as someone who did not get ruffled, even under pressure. But standing in his own kitchen, listening to his niece and her new nanny plot canine insurrection, Noah felt his world spinning out of control.
He’d never been a dog person. Or a kid person, for that matter. He loved Charlotte, obviously, but kids should come with an instruction manual. And a self-cleaning mode.
He fixed three plates and set them on the table before grabbing his coffee and a glass of orange juice for Charlotte.
His niece took a bite of eggs, scrunching her little nose.
She wasn’t a fan, but she needed healthy protein. Sometimes he added cheese and chunks of ham, which she seemed to like better. This morning, he’d been distracted, too focused onnotwatching the new nanny.
“Thank you,” Miss Wright said. “It’s tasty.” Her voice was soft. “I can cook breakfast in the future, if you’d like.”
