“Actually.” Dave points at me. “You’re the one I need.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes.”
“No rush.”
But I do rush. I want to be a person the employees of this bar can count on. I’m not the flighty woman who is never on time. Not anymore.
I hang my coat up in the storage area and tie a server apron around my waist. I don’t bother checking my hair or make-up. I look like shit and I know it.
I make my way behind the bar. “What do you need, Dave?”
“Not me. Him.” He points across the room to where Zane is standing, holding Adele with all of his brothers surrounding him.
I knew I’d have to deal with the Raider brothers at some point. They do love this bar. Especially since Kai and Harper are in love and engaged to be married. But I thought I’d at least have a few days to get used to the idea.
I guess not.
Zane catches my eye and strolls to the bar. I want to jump over the bar and run to him. To beg him to give me another chance to prove to him, I can be more than a nanny. I can be anything he needs or wants.
I push those thoughts away. I know better. Zane is a player who loves adventures. He’s never settling down.
I scowl at him. “Zane. We’ve discussed this. You shouldn’t bring a baby to the bar.”
“Not even when her mother is here?”
I scan the room. “Daisy’s here? What a bitch. I’m going to enjoy kicking her out.”
I march out from behind the bar, intent on finding Daisy and dealing with her, but Zane shackles my wrist to stop me.
“Daisy isn’t here.”
“But you said Adele’s mother is here.”
“She is. I’m looking right at her.”
His gaze meets mine.
“I’m confused.”
“You, sweetness, are her mother. More than her birth mother ever has been.”
I must be hallucinating. Zane isn’t saying what I think he is. He’s probably telling me he packed up all my shit and I better come pick it up before he sets fire to it. He’s definitely not saying I’m Adele’s mom.
“You couldn’t tell the doctor fast enough that I was the nanny.”
He grimaces. “I’m sorry. I wanted the doctor to know you aren’t the biological mother in case she needed to know for blood tests or genetic reasons. I don’t know. I was panicking.”
“I was panicking, too. But I didn’t accidentally call you an asshole.”
“Swear jar,” he mutters.
“This is a bar, not your house.”
He growls. “Our home.”
Oh, how I want his house to be my home. But he crapped all over that dream.
“Your house is not my home. You and I aren’t together. And I quit my job as nanny.”
