I think about Seth's face last night. The way something shifted in him right before I left. The recognition, the calculation, the jaw tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with what came after it. I think about showing up at his door and what that conversation is going to look like when he realizes he’s hiring me. I think about the fifty dollars an hour and my mother's medical bills and the fact that I have literally no other viable alternative that works with my new schedule.
I think about Sawyer, who likes sloths, who doesn't know any of this, who just needs someone to pick her up from volleyball practice and help prep dinner while her dad is away.
Seth and I won’t even have to interact. This will be fine.
"You're going to owe me so much," I say.
Natasha slaps the bar counter once, satisfied. "Already told Boone. You start tomorrow."
I reach for another fry and stare at my open textbook without reading any of it while hoping tomorrow doesn’t go as poorly as I think it will.
Chapter 8 - Brianna
The next morning I'm standing outside Seth's front door in light-washed Levi's and a baby blue tank top, two decaf coffees deep, palms slightly clammy, trying very hard to feel optimistic about this entire encounter while looking like I have everything under control.
I do not have everything under control.
I pulled my hair into a high messy bun because loose hair felt too casual and a full blowout felt like I’m trying too hard when I’m really hoping I look innocent. Not like I had Seth’s tongue shoved down my throat in a gym two nights ago. To my credit, he initiated it. I was planning on leaving. I was going to run.I’d stepped away, ready to slip out when he stepped toward me, stopped me in my tracks, and blocked the exit before bringing me in with his magnetism and wild sexual energy.
And now I've been standing here for approximately forty-five seconds longer than I should be because my fist keeps almost knocking and then not when I think about Seth naked.
The house is a nice one—colonial, well-kept lawn, a few bushes still flowering, with a front porch that has two chairs on it that look like they've never been sat in. I think about spending my evenings after picking up Sawyer out here and giving her a chance to wind down.
Here goes nothing.
I knock. There are heavy footsteps coming from inside before a pause and the door opens. Dark blond hair mussed from sleep, a bad night or both. White t-shirt pulled tight across shoulders I have personally been held against naked. Grey sweatpants sitting low on his hips in a way that should be illegal given the circumstances. His hazel eyes find mine immediately and they are not warm.
He looks good. He also looks furious. Both things I know I deserve.
“Hi.” My voice sounds small.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he says, voice clipped, like I've shown up uninvited to sell him something he doesn't want.
"Did your brother not tell you?" I keep my voice steady. "I'm Sawyer's new nanny."
He stares at me. The processing happening behind his eyes is almost visible—the information landing, rearranging, settling into something that makes his jaw tighten incrementally. His lips part and then press together.
"You've gotta be shitting me," he says finally.
"Dad!" A voice comes from somewhere inside the house while I’m considering how quickly I can run back to Natasha’s place,and we pretend this never happened. "I can't find my knee pads!"
Something shifts in him instantly. The tension breaks just enough to let the dad through. He turns his head slightly, rubbing his temple. "They're in the dryer, babe."
Babe.
I don’t let myself have a reaction to that. I’m a professional. I’m not totally romanticizing the fact that he calls his twelve-year-old daughterbabe.
Swoon.
A head appears around his shoulder, a girl, twelve or thirteen, light brown hair like her father's and big brown eyes full of the bright curiosity of a kid who hasn't yet learned to be guarded about it. She's wearing volleyball shorts and a t-shirt that readsThe BrookhavenBlockers,and she spots me before Seth can fully shift himself into a human shield.
"Hi," I say, waving. "I'm Brianna King."
"Hi!" She nudges her dad sideways with tween energy. "You're the new nanny Alessia told me about?"
"That's me." Unless your dad fires me in the next thirty seconds, which is still a very real possibility. "I hear you've got volleyball practice today?"
"I just need my knee pads and then I'm ready." She grins. "You're really pretty."
