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I lean back and put my hands on the arms of my chair. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to dive right in. I don’t have a ton of time.”
“Of course. Let me just grab my notebook. Thanks for the opportunity to interview, by the way. I’m excited to know more about you and Katie.” She turns to pluck a notebook and pen out of her bag. She opens the notebook to a blank page and uncaps the pen, poising it over the paper. She meets my gaze. “All right, let’s do it.”
My brain latches onto an interpretation of those words that is entirely inappropriate.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me today? I get laid plenty when my family takes Katie for the night, so it can’t be sexual frustration. Maybe this is just panic manifesting in some weird ass way.
Katie really needs to get back into a routine. And I really, really need consistent help. Like, yesterday. I’ve already burned through the first batch of candidates I’ve managed to find. If Maren doesn’t work out...
Yeah, I’m screwed.
I hold the arms of my chair in a death grip. “I work long hours. My schedule is all over the place. Unpredictable at the best of times. There’s some travel I need to do too, which is why this is a live-in position. I have a crofter at my house here on the island. There’s an eight-hundred-square-foot apartment above the garage where you’d live. Has a full kitchen, bathroom. Laundry too. It comes fully furnished.”
Our drinks arrive. Maren nods. “Sounds great.”
“Means you’re on call most of the time. I don’t know what your class schedule is like?—”
“Flexible. Most of my classes are online. I already have the dates I need to attend in-person, so we can easily plan ahead. If I have to do homework at midnight, then I have to do homework at midnight. I’m used to being up late, which is why I caffeinate often.” She sips her tea. “Tell me about Katie. She turned four in July, right?”
“Correct. I know I’m biased, but she’s very smart. Funny as hell. Tons of energy, though, just to warn you. My kid never stops moving.”
Maren grins. “Energy is good! Usually means she’s curious about the world. There’s lots to learn, and she’s eager to learn it.”
“She’s... God, she’s a trip.” I allow myself a small smile when I remember Katie running around the house thismorning at six A.M., dressed in her SuperKitty costume. Unitard, mask, light-upFrozenshoes. It’s always the whole kit and caboodle or nothing. “I am a big believer in routine, so we stick to a relatively strict schedule.” Maren’s pen moves over the page as I detail our average day. The early wake up. Potty. Brush teeth, breakfast. Potty again. Get dressed, camp drop off, camp pick up. Snack, some quiet time, playtime outside. Then dinner and bath, followed by potty—what else—and a book in bed at seven-thirty.
“Wow,” Maren says.
I lift a brow. “That gonna be too much for you?”
“Not at all. In fact, this makes my job a heck of a lot easier. I mean that. The kids I’ve nannied in the past have really thrived in this kind of structure, so I’m thrilled to know you have a solid routine in place already. Sounds like Katie gets plenty of sleep, nutritious meals, and lots of quality time with friends and family. The camps she’s attending sound amazing. Well done, Dad.”
There’s a catch in my chest. I press my fingers to it, the muscles there sore from this morning’s bear of a session in my garage gym. “Thanks. To be fair, I’ve had a lot of help. I feel like I’m gone often, so I don’t want to take all the credit?—”
“But you should.” Maren’s expression softens. “Mom said you’ve raised Katie on your own pretty much since she was born, right?”
I let out a mirthless laugh. “Feels like I’ve been a single parent my whole damn life, yeah.”
“You work hard. Take the credit. And good on you for getting the help you need to give Katie an excellent start in life.”
I grab my tea and gulp it. “Thanks,” I repeat.
It’s too soon, right, to tell her she’s got the job?
Our oysters arrive. I consider ordering a beer.
I do not drink beer in the middle of a workday. Ever. But being around Maren makes me want a drink. Because I knowKatie will love her. How could she not? But that also means Maren will constantly be in my face with her curves and her kindness and that bold fucking way she keeps looking me in the eye.
You can do this.
If it means doing what’s right for my daughter, I can do fucking anything. And maybe if I hire Maren—finally fill the damn nanny position—this weird panic will dissipate and Maren’s gorgeousness won’t faze me.
But then she puts an oyster in her mouth and closes her eyes. The tip of her pink tongue glides over her lips as she slowly savors the bite.
My dick perks up when she literally moans. “Wow.Wow, that’s good.”
Oysters are supposed to be aphrodisiacs. But whoever said that never watched Maren Lucas eat one, becausethatis the real turn-on.
“Rose?” I lift my hand. “Beer. Please. The Tennessee Brunette.”
