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“You’re hilarious.”
She smiles, and my panic lessens just the tiniest bit.
Goddamn, I feel like I could do this dad thing if I had half this woman’s breezy confidence.
“Most of Woodward’s parents have SUVs,” she continues. “Anything with four doors and a big backseat will work. Those toddler car seats can take up a lot of space.”
“Okay,” I say, mind immediately going to trucks that would probably qualify as douchey by Amelia’s standards but have four doors. A Denali. Escalade. Would a king cab pickup work?
She continues to type, and then her phone makes a swooping noise. A beat later, my phone pings.
“Just sent you my thoughts. I’m sure I’m forgetting some things, but that list should at least get you started.”
I try to ignore the way my chest lights up at seeing her name on my phone screen again and read through her list. It’s thorough. Not a single typo.
Not a single mistake. It’d remind me of my own extreme attention to detail if I hadn’t just found out I made the biggest, most careless mistake ever.
“I know I keep saying this, but thank you. I was thinking I could ask Beau for some pointers too. He has a daughter around my son’s age. God.” I blink. “They’ll be cousins. Maisie and my son.”
Amelia offers me a soft grin. “Kinda cool, right?”
“Yeah. Assuming he doesn’t hate me and run away.”
“Your two-year-old isn’t going to hate you.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “Your teenager will. So enjoy the good times while you can.”
I lift into a half-crouch. “That’s it. I’m running away.”
She’s laughing again, and so am I as I drop back into my chair.
“Too late now. Do you know what Beau and Bel do for childcare? Last I checked, they both worked full time. Maybe y’all could nanny share or something. At least in the beginning until you figure out a more permanent arrangement.”
My laughter fades.
Childcare. How do I even begin to figure that out?
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
“Rhett, if four years of undergrad, two years getting my master’s, and three years of real experience have taught me anything about kids, it’s that being prepared is a superpower. A little organization goes a long way.”
I look at her for a long beat, thinking.
Amelia is great at her job. No surprise there.
A job she just lost. She’s unemployed, temporarily at least, and if her mention of going without severance is any indication, she’s worried about money.
My stomach somersaults as the idea takes shape inside my head. Makes me think a vague outline of it has been there since this conversation began.
It’s probably yet another bad one—the idea. I’ve had a lot of those today. Then again, I thought inviting Amelia up to Blue Mountain was a bad idea, but so far, it hasn’t blown up in my face.
As a matter of fact, it’s turned out to be a bright spot in a very, very dark day.
But.
Hiring Amelia as Liam’s nanny would mean I’d be around her a lot. Like, a lot a lot.
But.
The way she drove me crazy and made me reckless—that was nine years ago. If I haven’t matured since then, if I don’t have a better sense of self-control, then I’ve got bigger problems. And like Amelia said, our arrangement would only be temporary until I can figure something else out for the long haul.
But.
What if Liam gets attached to her? Would she come to Vegas with us for the season? Where would she live? What about when I’m away? She’d stay with Liam, wouldn’t she? The thought of her sleeping in my house . . .
But.
I’m desperate. At some point, I have to man up and push aside my own bullshit for the well-being of my son.
“I have an indecent proposal to make.”
Amelia ducks her chin, eyebrows snapping together. “All right, Mr. Grey. But if it involves a red room of pain—”
“What’s a red room of pain, and where do I get one?”
“You don’t know about Fifty Shades of Grey? Where the hell have you been?”
“I’ve been busy going from underdog twelfth-round draft pick to one of the league’s most decorated wide receivers,” I reply crisply. And then, because I’m shameless, I say, “Work for me. Be my kid’s nanny. You have time. I have a kid. You need money, and I need help.”
Clouds gather in her eyes as she blinks rapidly, cheeks flushing with color. “Rhett, I—Jesus, are you serious?”
I stop myself from saying serious as cancer just in time. “Let’s make a deal.”
She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “I didn’t come here to ask for anything.”
“I know. And I’m sorry if I’m being pushy, but there’s no point in beating around the bush. We can help each other out and give Liam the best damn support in the world to weather a massive transition.”
