His lip quirks up in an almost laugh. “How does fifteen an hour sound?”
He seems to wait, probably expecting me to negotiate. I know I could ask for more money, but I want to do this, and he genuinely needs the help, so I accept with no counteroffer.
“Sounds good,” I tell him, and I smile. He seems pleased by this and goes over the days and times he needs. It’s pretty much full-time. He also asked if I would be available to drop off or pick up on the weekend if he gets held up on a project. I agree with all of it.
“Do you smoke or drink?” he asks out of the blue.
“Um. I don’t smoke, and I do have an occasional drink.” I can tell from his protective stance that this man has some boundaries in his life that he won’t let someone cross, and I can’t help but feel there is more to this line of questioning, but I don’t ask, or maybe I don’t want to know.
He nods. “I just don’t want that around my daughter.” He hesitates before going on. “Her mother had a problem, and I don’t want her in that situation. I’m sorry, I should have asked that before.” And there it is. I’m glad he told me. It helped me understand his situation and that of his daughter.
I lift my hand up. “No, I get it. That won’t be a problem.”
He exhales. “Good.”
I see that girl still staring at me, and I notice that the game is finishing. He looks over his back toward the field. “So, can you start Monday?” I nod eagerly.
“Yes, that’s perfect. Text me the address.” He is just about to ask me something else when I feel someone come up behind me.
“Hey, Nadia. I just wanted to let you know I’m here to pick you up. I’ll wait over there.” He points to the bleachers across the field and walks away. I turn back to look at Manuel, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at the retreating man who has just arrived to pick me up.
His gaze turns back to me. “Oh, and another thing. I don’t wantany boyfriends at the house. You come alone and in your car. You said you had reliable transportation?”
My mouth drops open. “I would never do that,” I tell him, mostly just shocked at the question.
“I just have to make sure.” His voice trails off as he turns, looking at his daughter. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he says as he walks away. “See you Monday.” I stand there, dumbfounded, watching him walk away. I notice more than I’d like about the man who will be my future employer. Most notably, his tanned legs that bulk out from his fitted shorts that cup his tight…
I catch that woman watching me, eyes flicking between us, as she lifts a curious brow. She mouths, “Game on.” That’s it. I turn abruptly and jog to Parker, rising from the bleachers and walking my way, oblivious to my conflicting thoughts.
Parker walks beside me. “So, did you get the job?” He nudges me, and I look up and smile at his playfulness.
“Yes, “ I reply proudly.
“That’s great,” he remarks. He looks back. “Is that your new boss?” He tips his chin up toward Manny, who is now walking away with his little girl, hand in hand, speaking animatedly to her father while he carries her hot pink, glittery bag.
“Yep,” I say as I look back at him. Our eyes lock, his gaze piercing, leaving mine just as quickly and sliding toward Parker. I turn back, forward-facing.
“Interesting,” is all Parker says.
“Indeed,” I retort, as we reach the car and drive off.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Iknew it was her before I approached the woman who haunts my dreams and recently made me shower for about ten minutes longer. Why is the world trying to punish me? Who did I piss off so royally that out of the few women who applied for the job, she would be the one to have checked off all the boxes for the nanny position and for me, too? She arrived ten minutes early, and it gave me the opportunity to watch her. I wasn’t sure it was going to be her, but what are the chances? I’d say one hundred percent when I see her take out her phone, send a text message, and look around. A few seconds later, it comes through my phone, letting me know she arrived. I’m impressed. Punctuality turns me on. The thought almost makes me laugh. So much has changed since short skirts and toned legs turnedme on. Now it’s being on time. This woman meets both criteria. My sunglasses allow me to shield my eyes from being caught checking her out.
It also helps to mask my disgust at the shameless women who hit on me in front of their kids. A prime example is Sylvie, the crazy divorcée who has been staring at me for the past half hour. I’d like to avoid her at all costs. I heard from Luc’s wife, Tessa, that she is very interested in me. Apparently, she cuts her hair, and being a small town, everyone is into everyone’s business here. Although my divorce was finalized a year ago, it had been over for some time before that. My girlfriend at the time had been on birth control, but somehow she ended up pregnant. There was no point in pointing fingers or finding fault. We just accepted it, and I was fully present. I married and loved her even when it wasn’t enough to make her happy. I didn’t realize that she was taking prescription drugs and had become dependent on them. She had a shitty home life with an absent father and a self-absorbed mother who apparently taught her hownotto be a good mother. She never had a chance.
I tried repeatedly, but she played the victim instead of helping me care for Catalina. I figure I was already doing so much of this parenting on my own that I could do it solo. I gave her an ultimatum: get help, see someone to discuss your mental health, and then, after you take care of yourself, we can work on us. Perhaps a rehabilitation program could help her get better, and then she could be a better mom to Catalina and my partner in this marriage, but she refused everything. All of it. Now, she is in rehab set by her drug court program with supervised visitation rights pending her therapist’s approval and a clean track record. She tried to call me, but I couldn’t even talk to her. I was so angry about her last shenanigans. I won’t let her hurt Catalina.
I watch this woman, whom I’ve run into a couple of times now, and it scares me more than anything because I don’t want to feel this way—to trust someone again, and be let down because it isn’t just me now. I have a daughter to think about, and I don’t want to subject her to yet another heartache—getting used to someone for a second time just to have them leave again, just like her mother did.
Before I realize it, I am walking toward her. I see her tense andstill. I wonder what she is thinking. What will she think when she realizes it’s me? She probably thinks I’m an asshole, and I haven’t given her any reason to believe otherwise. Before I freak her out any further, I clear my throat and ask, “Are you the one interested in the nanny position?” I try to be cool, calm, and professional, and I hope it comes out that way because this woman makes me anything but those things I am attempting to convey.
She opens her mouth, stunned, but nothing comes out. I wait patiently for her to answer, fighting the urge to laugh, until she snaps out of it and says, “Yes, sir.” I can’t help the small smile that graces my lip as I attempt to suppress most of it so that just a tiny bit of my lip curls. It could be curling from disgust, not lust. That is a more accurate feeling for that unexpected comment. I inwardly groan at the thought of her calling me sir as I bend her over the kitchen table, pressing her face into the polished wood and entering her in one thrust from behind. I turn away, noticing that Catalina is up at bat, and I focus my attention on her and not my cock, which is already semi-hard, and increasing at the thought of getting some action. Nope, I can’t have that, so I glance at Sylvie, and it starts to go down immediately, thank God. Her head straightens, noticing that I look her way, and I hope that doesn’t give her the wrong idea.
Catalina gets a hit off the tee, and I see her take off like her ass is on fire. Suddenly, the woman beside me jumps in excitement at my little girl’s run and claps for her so much that it makes me almost laugh. I briefly catch a glimpse of what my life would be like to have a partner present, watching her daughter’s game and cheering for her. I cup my hands together for amplification. “Way to go, Catalina!” I scream. Clapping loudly, I find myself smiling, but it is short-lived as a woman approaches me and stands there. I spare a glance at the new nanny, and I can tell she is wondering if this is Catalina’s mom. Sylvie places her hand on my shoulder possessively, and I fight the urge to remove her arm from my shoulder.
“She’s a natural, Manny,” she purrs. I hear the woman scoff beside me, and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. I say nothing, silently wishing Sylvie to leave, but she doesn’t. We just stand there in silence, the vibe becoming increasingly awkward. Idecide to end this, telling Sylvie that we need privacy. She looks at me, her eyes caked with too much makeup—attempting to cover up her age—narrowing at the woman standing next to me, but when she glances up at me, that hostile look is gone, replaced with understanding as she nods.
