Page 8 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“What’re you doing this far north?”

“I attended college here—went to school to be a teacher.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I mumbled, scrubbing harder at a stubborn stain. What I wanted to tell her was that it was hell because I couldn’t actually get a job.

“You don’t have an accent.”

“I was born and raised in Chicago,” she explained, tilting her head. “Then I fell in love with a bull rider and moved to Lindley.”

“Makes sense.”

She nodded, watching me for a beat. “What age do you want to teach?”

“Kindergarten,” I said, barely even thinking before the answer was out.

My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Will, had been the first adult in my life to show me patience when I didn’t deserve it. The first to see past the shy, terrified little girl who flinched at every loud noise and hesitated before speaking, afraid of saying the wrong thing. My parents had been relentless in their expectations, their sharp words always poised to snap at me the moment I messed up. Mrs. Will had been different. She’d been gentle, always meeting me at my level and giving me space to feel safe.

She was the reason I wanted to do this. The reason I wanted to be that person for another child, the way she had been for me.

I blinked back to the present, finding Fable watching me with curiosity, waiting for me to say something more. Instead, I smiled, small and to myself, holding onto that memory a little longer.

“You like working with little kids?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I like being the person who helps them grow into their full potential. There are so⁠—”

“Would you ever be a nanny?”

I furrowed my eyebrows and paused wiping the rag, my gaze slowly going to hers. “A nanny?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, no.”

Nannying and teaching were two completely different things. Teaching was about shaping young minds, guiding dozens of children toward knowledge and confidence. It was about being a steady presence in a room full of kids, giving them structure, security, and a place where they could thrive. Nannying was being tied to one family. It wasn’t the same kind of impact I wanted to make.

“Why not? You could go back to Texas⁠—”

I held up a hand. “Sorry, let me stop you there. You seem like a genuinely nice person, Fable. Likely because you aren’t even from Texas, but there is one thing I would never do, which is move back to that godforsaken state again, but mostly never to Dallas.”

She smiled wryly. “Not Dallas. Lindley.”

I chuckled. “Look, I like you, and I appreciate you playing go-between tonight. It’s been great talking with you, but I have no desire to move back to that area.”

Never. I would never give my parents the satisfaction of seeing me crawl back home, proving them right. I was doing this on my own, working my ass off, not taking a dime from them. I had to. Unlike my brother and sister, I didn’t have options. This was it for me.

“I’ll double whatever you’d make teaching.”

I snorted, walking over to her and leaning on the counter. “I don’t have a teaching job yet.”

She shrugged. “Whatever you’re expected to make. I’ll double it.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion creeping in. “What’s the catch?”

She was nice—too nice—and working for her and her husband didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. Not that I was considering it, but I was plenty curious.

“You’d have to work weekends⁠—”