Because my potential boss is none other than Mr. Grump in a Suit.
Except he’s no longer wearing a suit.
He’s in gray sweatpants and a faded Northwestern t-shirt that looks like it’s been washed a thousand times. The fabric stretches across a broad chest, the sleeves clinging to his biceps in a way that feels extremely inconvenient.
And I thought he was sex on a stick in that suit.
Before he opened his mouth, of course.
But that has nothing on him in gray sweatpants.
Gray. Fucking. Sweatpants.
I’ve died and gone to gray sweatpants heaven.
For half a second, I forget how to breathe. How to think. How to speak.
Then he opens his mouth.
“Can I help you?” he barks out.
“I’m Dylan’s friend, Rowan. She mentioned you’re looking for a nanny and said to stop by at six.”
“Absolutely not,” he says flatly. “If you couldn’t control your dog earlier, there’s no way in hell I’m trusting you with my kids.” He starts to close the door.
I almost let him.
I don’t exactly need this job.
I could hop back in my van and follow my nose until I find my next destination.
But my hand shoots out and catches the door, as if some bigger force is at play, not allowing me to retreat.
His eyes snap to mine, startled.
“I’m not one to judge, but it sounds like you’re having a rough time,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can overthink them.
“It’s fine. He’s just tired. And hungry. I burned his grilled cheese. Again.”
I don’t break eye contact. “Let me help. I’m already here. You might as well get something out of it.”
He parts his lips and I can practically hear the refusal about to slip free.
That’s when the smoke alarm goes off.
“Shit,” he mutters. “The grilled cheese.”
He spins around and bolts inside, leaving the door open.
I hesitate for a second before I cross the threshold, toeing off my sneakers.
The house is big. Open floor plan. Tall ceilings. Neutral walls and floors.
But it feels…overwhelmed.
Tiny socks abandoned mid-stride. Sneakers kicked off without ceremony. Toys everywhere — blocks, Barbies, plastic dinosaurs, a rogue crayon crushed into the rug.
The farther I walk, the more it feels like life happens here faster than anyone can keep up.
