Page 45 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

“I want to make more magnets later.”

“We can definitely do that,” I said, giving the purple nail polish a shake. In preparation for February’s holiday, we’d spent the past few days making red heart-shaped magnets to stick to the fridge and pink paper chains to loop around the dining room table.

“And then I can paint your nails,” Kenna said, nodding. “’Cause mine will be dry.”

“That’s definitely a plan,” I said diplomatically. If I set Kenna loose with the nail polish brush, I was going to end up with polish everywhere but my nails. “I don’t know if it’s going to be Plan A, though. You know what I’m saying?”

Alistair walked into the kitchen, his lips already set in a smirk from what he’d clearly overheard—eavesdropping on me, as usual. “You don’t want to get a manicure done at Salon Kenna?” he teased.

“Watch it,” I said, pointing a threatening finger his way. “Or else you’ll be our next customer.” I gestured over my shoulder at the polish kit. “There’s a whole book of nail jewels in there that are just looking for some prime real estate, and you, sir, have the biggest fingernails of all of us.”

“Daddy, you want some diamonds on your nails?” Kenna asked.

“I’ll have to book an appointment later,” he quipped. “Besides, you’re the only diamond I need in my life.” He leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head.

His words and his soft gesture made my chest clench. My own parents would wither on the spot before they’d ever be so free with their praise or affection. Watching the care and attention Alistair always gave Kenna, no matter how busy he was with work, always warmed something in me, and I couldn’t help grinning at them from across the counter.

His eyes lifted to meet mine. “Can we talk?”

I opened the purple nail polish, removing the brush and taking Kenna’s hand in mine, holding it steady. “Go for it,” I said, lips pursed as I focused. “What’s up?”

“What would you think about staying on for another month?” he said, letting the question hang between us. “I could really use the help—especially next week, since I have a conference in London I need to attend.”

“What happened to these other nannies you’ve been interviewing?” I asked lightly, trying not to smirk.

“None of them are appropriate,” he said, words suddenly gruff.

“Right.” I knew that was probably a lie. He hadn’t mentioned anything about any other nanny for weeks, and I questioned how much effort he was really putting into the search. But, truthfully, I wasn’t all that bothered by the thought of staying at Dunhope longer.

In fact, it suited me.

I was due to start my glassblowing lessons with Lesley soon, so I wasn’t exactly looking to leave Braeburn right away. Kenna and I were having a blast hanging out together every day. Plus, as far as I knew, Alistair’s connections were still working on tracking down the locations in my mother’s photos.

The fact that the man had kissed me in the library the other night—well, that also factored into my decision to stay. At least a little.

Okay, a lot.

The man couldn’t just go around taking my breath away and then expect me to be packing my bags. But that was between me, Princess, and Emily. I fought the heat stretching up my neck, clearing my throat. “Yeah,” I said in answer to his question. “I think we can probably work something out.”

His shoulders dropped, and he visibly relaxed. “Perfect.”

“What kind of conference is it?” I asked, starting on Kenna’s other hand.

“It’s an annual tech industry thing,” he said, waving it off like it was no big deal. But I knew it must be a big deal if he was prepared to go back to London. “I used to attend when I was still with Voyages. Now I’m needed there to take some meetings with a few of the companies I’ve invested in.”

“Sounds like a party for nerds,” I said.

“Nerds!” Kenna giggled.

Alistair snorted. “I’m not saying you’re right…but I’m not saying you’re wrong, either. This kind of conference draws all sorts. I can’t say I’m really looking forward to it. I usually prefer to keep a healthy distance from my business ventures these days.”

“The other side of a computer screen?” I quipped.

“At least. But my absence would look like a deliberate slight to some of these companies that are making the trek from across Europe or the Middle East. Plus,” he hesitated enough that I glanced up from my work, “I don’t want to look like I’m hiding from the world.”

“Or becoming some kind of recluse who turns his nose up at poor, defenseless travelers who crawl in through doggy doors?” I said.

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. “Are you ever going to let that go?”