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She walks over so she’s back in my line of sight and props herself up on the counter beside me. “Hey, I get it. I mean, I wouldn’t, of course. I’m asking purely for personal reasons, trying to get a feel for if I have a chance or not.”

“With Luke?”

“Uh yeah. He’s so freaking hot. And”—she rubs her fingers against her thumb like she’s rubbing dollar bills together—“loaded. No more nannying rich entitled brats.”

Sheesh.

“Peyton seems sweet I thought?”

She shrugs. “Whatever. She’s fine. I’ve nannied for kids way worse than her, believe me. But like I said, her parents are insane and overbearing. They want her in bed by the same time every night and they don’t want her watching more than an hour of TV a day. Are you kidding? I’m supposed to entertain her otherwise? How?”

I try to think of how much TV Harper watches in a day. Usually she’s outside swimming or playing with her Barbies or manning her lemonade stand.

Still, I nod as if I understand her dilemma.

“And don’t even get me started on all the other rules. No, I’ll be with them for another month or two and then it’s sayonara, on to the next. I want a cushy job like yours. What training did you say you have?”

“I have my culinary degree and quite a few years of restaurant work under my belt.”

Never mind the fact that I worked in extremely prestigious kitchens. We’re not talking Wendy’s, people—though don’t get me wrong, I can get down with some Wendy’s. Dipping salty fries into a thick chocolate frosty? Oh my gawwwd.

She rolls her eyes. “Kill me. I’m not going back to school.” Then she brightens as she thinks of something. “You think Luke is in need of a nanny? I haven’t seen one here. Did I miss her?”

“He gave Maria the summer off. Usually, she’s with him in the city. He might even have more than one, I’m not sure.”

She smiles wider and waggles her shoulders. “Well it never hurts to ask if he’s interested in hiring another.”

She hops off the counter with her Cheez-Its in hand and heads out of the kitchen. I’d guess she’s planning to hunt Luke down right now and talk things over. I’ll be working alongside Alexia before the day’s out.

No.

I’m down the hall, rushing toward Luke’s office.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Luke?”

No answer.

I spin around and head back toward the playroom. Alexia is in there with the girls, her feet propped up on the coffee table, her eyes on her phone’s screen as she scrolls without a care in the world. Harper and Peyton play pretend store in the corner with a cash register.

No sign of Luke though.

I head toward his bedroom on the other side of the house.

The door’s closed, but I’m on a mission.

“Luke?”

“Yeah, give me a second.”

He shuffles around for another moment and then the door opens. I see the last few inches of his toned stomach before he finishes putting on his shirt. I’m rendered senseless.

“Chloe?”

My blinking does nothing. I’m a sack of potatoes on his doorstep. A bump on a log.

“Are you sick?”

That does it.

I shake my head and glance back toward the playroom. I can still hear the girls playing, which means it’s not out of the question that Alexia could hear me talking to Luke here in the hall. I take matters into my own hands, push him back, and close his bedroom door behind us.

“Hi, can I come in?” I ask once we’re already locked away in his room together.

He immediately protests, but I hold up my hands.

“This isn’t what you think.”

Surely, what he thinks is, This is it. Chloe has lost her marbles and she’s going to tie me up and have her way with me.

Well, buddy boy, on another day, I just might.

“You cannot hire Alexia.”

He’s slow on the uptake, but eventually, he lets his arms fall back by his sides. He’s no longer concerned about bodily harm.

“Okay.”

“Yeah, she came into the kitchen blabbering on about how she would kill for a job with you, but you cannot let that happen. And to be clear, it’s not even about her being hot. It’s about her personality and her being an endangerment to children. I haven’t confirmed it, obviously, but she totally seems negligent. I would never want a nanny like that around Harper.”

He doesn’t look as worried as he should. “Oh really?”

“Yes.”

A little smile starts to spread across his lips. Those white teeth are taunting me.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I came in here because I was worried about Harper’s well-being. I don’t want you thinking anything else. It’s not about her looks. It’s not like I’m acting like some jealous girlfriend.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I’m forced to add, “Which I’m not.”

“Of which I’m well aware.”

“As such, we should stop talking about it now.”

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