They finally said their goodnights and Sloan set about shutting down the house. She’d call her mother in the morning. Thanks to the time difference, her parents were already asleep back in Rhode Island. She should be too if she wanted to make it through the next day with a clear head. She headed upstairs, peeked in on the girls one more time and then made her way to her bedroom, where she called her ex-husband, Drew Ballos, the biggest asshole she’d ever met, M.D..
Rafe Whitcomb’s day had just taken a turn. It had been three weeks since the Bakers had relocated to Sydney, Australia. He’d been taking care of their four kids for over six years. When Jill Baker was offered a job overseas, they jumped at the chance to provide their children with an international experience—her words, not Rafe’s. They asked him if he wanted to come along; same pay, same perks, same schedule, just a different hemisphere.
Rafe was tempted. He’d been overseas with families he’d worked for before. Living abroad, even if he had to keep up with the Bakers’ kids, would be a pretty cool experience. But when Chris Baker joked that the woman of Rafe’s dreams could be waiting for him down under, a whole potential life flashed before his eyes and he wasn’t sure he loved what he saw.
He’d been taking care of other people’s children since he was seventeen. Being a full-time, live-in nanny didn’t leave a whole lot of time for a social life, or a life of any kind. Most women he dated were fine with the fact that he was only free two nights a week and that those two nights were set in stone. ’Cause it was all so fucking cute, how good he was with kids. But when they realized that the kids really did come first, that being with Rafe meant their relationships would come with a lot of rain checks, they were out the door. And that was only if they didn’t try to convince him to quit first.
Rafe didn’t want to picture that shit happening halfway across the world. At some point he knew he was going to have to step away from this kind of intensive childcare. He still wanted to work with children, but he wanted more time for himself, so when the Bakers asked him for his final answer, he knew it would be better for him to stay behind. He wasn’t sure what his next move would be. Maybe he’d go back to school. Get a degree. Regardless, Rafe knew it was time to call his folks on the other side of L.A. county to let them know he’d be moving back into his old room for a while. He was beyond grateful when they welcomed him with open arms.
He missed the Bakers and aspects of their routine, but he was enjoying the freedom. He’d enjoyed catching up with his dad and working on their motorcycles together, helping his step-mom around the house, and even keeping his teenage sisters out of trouble until school started in another two weeks.
He was pretty damn shocked when he got a call from Winnie Baker’s teacher. She got right to the point and when Rafe agreed to at least check things out, they hung up and she texted him all the contact information he needed. It had happened so fast, he was in a daze when he stepped back into the garage.
“Rafe.” His dad’s head popped up on the far side of his Harley. He’d heard his dad call his name, but his brain was still caught up in the conversation he’d just had. “Close your mouth or you’ll catch some flies.” This time his dad’s thick Boston accent caught his attention. Rafe shook his head and swallowed.
“Yeah, sorry. What’d you say?”
“Who’s on the phone?”
He glanced again at the texts that had just come through. “Uh, Sarah Kato. She was Winnie’s teacher last year.”
“And? What did she want? You look like she just confessed to switching Winnie out for a robot.”
“Nah. One of their incoming parents at Whippoorwill is having a childcare emergency. She needs a live-in by Monday. Single mom.”
“She want you?”
“Well, yeah. Sarah said she recommended me.”
“You gonna do it?”
“I don’t know. Give me one sec.”
“Yeah. Take your time.”
“I’ll be right back.” Rafe almost took a seat on the weight bench against the back wall, but his body switched to autopilot, directing him right to his old bedroom. He’d taken personal offense when his step-mom announced her plans to turn his bedroom into a guest room, but she’d really been on to something when she switched out his shitty twin bed for a Cal king.
He sank down and grabbed his laptop off the nightstand, then googled Dr. Sloan Copeland at the ULA Medical Center like Sarah suggested. When he clicked on her profile on the ULA website, he did one hell of a double take. Dr. Sloan Copeland was hot as fuck. And young. Rafe didn’t know how long it took to become a heart surgeon and even factoring in what his step-mom had explained to him about Black women and aging, Sloan Copeland looked five minutes over twenty-one.
The photo on the website was your standard professional headshot, Sloan sporting a white lab coat over blue scrubs, but she looked like a model. Her dark brown skin was practically glowing. High, round cheeks framed her plump lips, which were turned up in a bright smile that showed off perfectly white teeth. Her hair was in long braids that she’d put up in a high bun. Her looks aside, Rafe was stuck on the timeline of having two six years olds and finishing all her medical training. Not impossible, but obviously hard.
He clicked around on a few more links and some things slid into place. Article after article, including profiles in Ebony, Essence and O Magazine about the child prodigy bound for Harvard Med School. More articles and posts on the youngest doctor to complete a surgical residency at US Medical Center in Seattle. If his internet math was correct, she was twenty-eight. Still pretty young for an established doctor.
He realized how far down the rabbit hole he’d gone when he scrolled through a good portion of her Instagram. There were plenty of pictures of her twins, and close ups of human hearts on full display. Dr. Sloan Copeland appeared to be enjoying a full life. And she needed his help with her kids. Eventually, when Rafe found himself searching through her social media looking for pictures of just Sloan on her days off, he knew he’d gone way off track. Yeah she was hot, but that wasn’t a part of this equation. He walked back out to the garage.
“What are you thinking?” his dad asked as soon as he stepped back outside.
“Single mom. She’s a doctor. Two girls. Nanny bailed last minute, so it looks like she could use the help.”
“How old are the kids?”
“Sarah said they’re six. They’re twins.”
“You can handle that. Two kids is a walk in the park for you.”
“I know.” Rafe knew his dad was right. The Bakers’ four kids were actually pretty easy to handle. Before that, he’d been with the Craigs and they had five kids, and before that he’d helped his step-mom with his sisters, who were only a year apart. He could handle twins.
“So what’s the problem?”
