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“Nope. All mine,” Mel said, smacking her lips. “They’re triplets. I call them The Triple Threat, and you will be the fifth nanny in the last two weeks. They got booted from daycare, and everyone has quit on me.”
“Er . . . “ Blake’s mouth opened and closed. Doubt clouded his expression.
“They will test you,” Mel continued. “They’ll push you to your limits. They didn’t used to be so awful, but since my parents moved, they’ve been particularly spirited. I need to know you can handle them.”
He lifted one shoulder, and she sensed he was trying to appear more confident than he was. “How hard could it be?”
Mel laughed. How hard could it be? Men were the cutest, weren’t they? So clueless, kind of like kids themselves. “What form of discipline do you plan on using when they act out?”
Blake grunted. “Discipline?”
“Yeah, you know, time out, being sent to their room, taking away toys for poor behavior, that sort of thing.”
Blake shrugged. “I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy.”
“Oh, cheese and rice.” Mel rubbed her eyes. “We’re in trouble.”
“Cheese and what?”
“I don’t allow swears. The Triple Threat repeats everything, but sometimes . . . Never mind.” Mel waved him away. “I hope I don’t regret this,” she muttered under her breath. Then she shook her head and said, “This will likely be a disaster of epic proportions, but I have little choice, so . . .” She shrugged.
Blake laughed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”
Clapping her hands, she smiled over at him, suppressing her doubt. “So, when can you start?”
CHAPTER FOUR
BLAKE
When he woke Monday morning, it was with the partial disbelief that today he would start his new adventure as a manny. He had no idea what the day would hold, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t entirely apprehensive about the whole thing. On the one hand, he was certain he could handle a few four-year-olds. I mean, how hard could it be? On the other hand, it was like diving into the great unknown. Not only did he have zero experience with children, but he was entirely too attracted to Mel. So much so, he had debated turning around and leaving the moment she opened the door and he realized she was the one hiring a nanny. He could’ve cut his losses and searched for another gig. Nothing good could come of a taken man working for a woman he couldn’t take his eyes off of.
But in the end, his better senses prevailed. The sooner he started, the sooner he could prove himself to Jen and move on with his life. Besides, he was a grown man. If he couldn’t control himself around an attractive woman, then he had no business even thinking of getting married.
Still, his stomach tightened with nerves as he arrived on time. He’d brought his latest custom ride, which allowed him to weave with a little more ease in and out of traffic. What would’ve taken more than thirty minutes by cab took him just over twenty.
He removed his helmet and knocked on her door, exhaling in a rush when she whipped it open, and she stood in front of him, looking soft and warm like she just rolled out of bed. Her face was makeup free, and she wore a pair of ratty, old sweats and a t-shirt. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was disheveled and her eyes half-mast as she sleepily gulped at a giant cup of coffee and waved him inside. The sight caught him off guard. He only ever saw Jen decked to the nines and fully done-up. Even her idea of workout attire was a carefully paired ensemble purchased at Nordstrom for more than some people’s monthly grocery bill. And pajamas? They were usually imported silk and fancier than some cocktail dress. Forget a clean face. Blake wasn’t even sure on the nights he’d stayed over that he’d ever seen her without makeup on. He was pretty sure even her natural look consisted of some doctoring.
Blake sighed and stepped inside, annoyed with himself. Why was he comparing them?
“Sorry. I’m running late,” Mel said in a rush. “I didn’t get much sleep. The Triple T’s kept me up half the night,” she said, rambling on about nightmares—something about a giant dinosaur—while he tried not to notice the butterflies rioting in his stomach.
“I just need a five-minute shower, and then I’m out of your hair. Help yourself to coffee in the kitchen,” she hollered as she slammed the bathroom door behind her.
Not a second later, Blake heard the telltale sound of water running through squeaky pipes. He stepped into the modest kitchen, plucked a mug off the drying rack by the sink, and poured himself a cup of the piping hot brew, then took a sip.
He leaned back against the counter. The apartment was quiet, so he assumed the kids were still asleep. What a piece of cake. Peace and quiet now, maybe some Legos and a movie later. This whole manny thing would be a cakewalk, and Mel would sing his praises to Jen in no time. Then he’d get down on one knee, and the rest would be history.
As he sipped his coffee, he
decided he may as well have a look around. He wasn’t snooping or being nosy. He was merely surveying his workplace. Seeing as how he’d be spending the majority of his waking hours there, he may as well get the lay of the land.
He wandered around the small living room, taking in the pile of folded laundry on the little kitchen table, the toys haphazardly thrown into bins by the couch, and the array of DVDs half spilling out of the cases, spewed in front of the entertainment center.
He glanced at the framed photos propped up on the shelves and scattered over the walls. There wasn’t a ton of décor to speak of, but there were pictures in abundance. One was of an older couple standing with their arms wrapped around the triplets. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were all related. The resemblance between the older woman and Mel was striking with their dark hair and amber eyes. There were pictures of Mel and the kids. Even one of Mel in a graduation cap and gown, holding a diploma from NYU and smiling into the camera. But nowhere in sight was there a picture of a man or anyone else Blake could pinpoint as the kids’ father, which made him all the more curious as to what the story was there. Not that it was any of his business, but Mel hadn’t mentioned a husband, and he hadn’t noticed a ring on her left hand in any of his interactions with her. He imagined it took a lot of energy to raise triplets, and he couldn’t fathom having to do it on your own.
He sauntered over to the closed door of the bathroom and cocked his head, checking to make sure the shower was still running, then peeked into the room beside it. The door was cracked, so he managed to get a glimpse inside. A queen-sized bed sat in the center of the room. One kid lay, sprawled across the blankets, while two others slept together on a twin wedged in the corner. All four of them shared a bedroom?
Blake swallowed. Straightening, he moved away from the door with his coffee and backtracked into the living room, feeling the slightest bit guilty. Clearly, Mel, like a lot of New Yorkers, was tight on cash. Otherwise, why share a one-bedroom apartment in a questionable apartment complex with three young children. It reminded Blake of some of his temporary foster placements. Kids upon kids. Sometimes he and his brother were packed like sardines in a tiny house or small apartment until they could find him and Grant someplace else to go.
