Page 23 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I glance up without meaning to, and instantly forget what I was doing.

She’s standing just inside the open bay door, light behind her, as if the morning decided to frame her on purpose. Teal sweater. Dark hair. Green eyes that take in the whole space.

She steps inside, and Wayne straightens immediately. Then he goes weirdly still.

“That’s us,” he says. “So, you’re…”

“The new nanny.” She frowns a little. “And you are…”

“Wayne. Mr. Calder.”

Why is it so… icy?

“Erm… thanks for coming in.”

He doesn’t smile.

That’s interesting.

The woman doesn’t seem to notice. Or if she does, she doesn’t let it show. She shifts her weight, tucks her hands into the sleeves of her sweater, and offers him a polite, careful smile.

“Right.” She swallows hard. “Yes.”

There’s a beat—a pause that shouldn’t be there. A skipped weld. Two pieces that ought to fit but haven’t seated yet.

I’m still staring when my welding mask drops into my hand.

I freeze.

I do not want to be caught looking.

So I lift the mask and pull it down instead, letting the tinted shield hide me.

From behind it, I watch.

Hank wanders over, curiosity written all over him. “You must be the nanny.”

“I am,” she says, smiling. “June.”

Hank grins. “Welcome to the madhouse. I’m Hank. You found us okay? Most people miss the turn the first time.”

“I almost did. Thought my GPS was lying to me.”

Wayne gestures vaguely at the shop, the bikes, the half-dismantled engine. “This is Last Mile. Bikes, cars, whatever decides to break.”

Her gaze moves with his hand. Takes everything in. The order and the madness. The grease-stained concrete. The half-built frames leaning against the wall.

“It’s… loud,” she says, then smiles a little, as if revising her own thought. “But in a good way.”

“Comforting,” Hank supplies.

Her smile widens. “Yeah. That.”

Wayne’s shoulders drop half an inch.

My posture doesn’t ease though, and I don’t really know why.

It’s as if all I can do is watch, silently, from behind my mask as my pulse races…