“Alone?” Mallory’s voice floats down the stairs. It’s distant but the angst in it is clear.
“Yeah. Tater needs to stay here and have a talk with you!” Tenley calls up the stairs and I shove her, lightly because she’s holding my baby. She shoves me back, not so lightly.
“Right now?” Mallory calls back.
“No! Just shower. I’ll talk to you after! No rush!” I turn to Tenley and whisper heatedly. “Don’t say another word. I don’t want her to hurry. She deserves alone time. She hardly ever gets it.”
Tenley pats my head like I'm a puppy who followed a command. I swat her hand away and grab the folded stroller. I pull it out onto the front porch where I open it and watch carefully to make sure Tenley straps him in right. "I need to see if there are any dudes who think single moms are hot."
“Excuse me?”
“What?” Tenley grins. “Babies are chick magnets for men. Let’s see if they’re men magnets for chicks.”
“I’m about to veto this idea,” I warn.
“Shut up,” Tenley replies. “We’ll only be gone like half an hour so get it done with Mallory.”
I watch Tenley until she and the stroller are through the gate and out of view. Then I go back inside, lock the door, and take the stairs two at a time. I need to change and think of what I can say to make Mallory stay with me indefinitely. For Dylan’s sake.
Chapter14
Mallory
Irush through my shower, my brain listing all the possible reasons for this serious conversation I’m about to have with Tate. I decide it must just be about the nannies I interviewed. I focus on the candidates and the meetings I had with them as I get out of the shower, towel off, and throw on a long sundress. I haven’t worn much besides shorts and sweats since I landed in L.A. and it’s time I started making more of an effort. My ribs aren’t sore anymore either. Well, not as sore, so I’m starting to feel more like myself.
I review the candidates mentally as I brush my hair. I think about the candidates I already shortlisted and sent to Tate, and then I think about one of the ones I didn’t put on the list. The one who was twenty-two, size zero, and with shampoo commercial hair.
Yep. I did that. Nixed a perfectly valid candidate because she was gorgeous. And it’s been bugging me ever since so I know when we talk nannies I have to tell him about her too. So what if she’s young and hot and probably his type. If he ends up fucking her, why do I care? It’s not like he’s going to date me if I don’t tell him about her. Tate doesn’t date. I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror as I rub in some tinted moisturizer and a little liquid blush on my pale cheeks.
He does fuck, though, and he’d fuck me. He said it. Offered it up like an… arrangement. But I don’t want him towantto fuck me. Okay, maybe I do want him to fuck me. Nope. I don't. Well, I shouldn't. And regardless, I'm leaving once he hires someone else, so I should just stop cock blocking something that hasn't even happened and add the competent and pretty nanny to the shortlist.
I’m still having this insane internal monologue with myself when I walk into the kitchen and find Tate there. In nothing but sweats riding low on his tapered hips and dear God, yeah I would like to have a man who looks like that naked on top of me just once in my very vanilla little life.
“Hey,” he says like he isn’t standing there emoting sex appeal. He runs a hand through his damp hair and I try not to remember how thick and amazing it feels. “You look great.”
I smooth my hands over the front of my dress. “Surprise! I own more than just sweats and shorts.”
“I don’t,” Tate jokes back and flashes me a grin. “Except suits.”
I smile and he tips his head toward the patio we were on earlier. “Back outside to enjoy some sunshine? It finally popped through the haze.”
I nod and follow him. He’s got two fresh mugs of coffee and he hands one to me before I sit down. I thank him and settle into one of the sofas, pulling my phone out of one of the side pockets on my dress. “So I have one more candidate to add to your list of potential nannies. Are you ready to hear why I say yay or nay to them?”
“No.”
I sip my coffee. He made it just how I like it with extra cream and just a pinch of sugar. “I know the road trip was grueling. Did you not get a chance to review the notes I sent you? One of them was a nanny for J Lo. How crazy is that?”
"No, I read everything. I'm just not ready to replace you," Tate says and I freeze with the coffee cup halfway to my mouth. He leans forward, aquamarine eyes reaching over me and landing on my face. His tongue slips across his bottom lip for a second. "I want you to stay."
“Why?” I don’t know why I ask the question. The answer will never be what I truly want to hear.
He leans forward and puts his mug on the coffee table. With his elbows on his knees and his fingers twisted together he clears his throat and responds. And I was right, it’s not the answer I wanted to hear. “I’ve been talking to a sports psychologist, because this has a huge impact on my career as well as my life. Forever. Anyway, he pointed out to me that in unexpected life-altering events like this, there are changes I can't control and changes I can. He meant like, I cannot let this affect my on-ice performance. But it applies to more than the game. There are off-ice changes I can control too. I don't have to find a new nanny. I have the best one already."
“I see.” Every fiber of my being is disappointed, which is ridiculous. “So you’re asking me to stay because it’s one less hassle to deal with. For how long?”
“I’m asking you to stay because my son loves you, and…” Tate pauses. Our eyes meet and then he looks at his coffee mug. “I consider you one of my best friends and I like having you here. For how long? Well, for Dylan’s sake, until he gets drafted. For my sake… until he gets drafted.”
I can't help but smile, and it only grows bigger when he flashes me one back. "Seriously though, I don't know for how long. Can we start with a six-month contract?"
