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“And why is that? You don’t have a criminal record or anything, do you?” God, part of him wanted her to give up a reason that would make this conversation a done deal so he could come up with a decent fallback plan, one that didn’t involve a candidate with a sassy mouth and bravado to spare.
Sloane shocked him with her quick burst of laughter. “Of course not. Carly wouldn’t have recommended me if I was a degenerate, now would she?”
Okay, so she had him there. He wouldn’t have asked Carly for help if he didn’t trust her judgment. “Sorry. I guess you’re right.”
Sloane raised a shoulder toward the long, graceful line of her neck, releasing it noncommittally. “So you still haven’t answered my question.”
Gavin blinked, recalculating their conversation with a quick nod. “Oh, right.” He told her Mrs. Teasdale’s weekly rate, and her eyebrows shot skyward.
“And you just need somebody for the weekend?”
He hesitated. “Well, not really.”
Her almond-shaped eyes crinkled with a look of confusion. “It’s kind of a yes or no question.”
Damn it, he was really out of options. “If it works out this weekend, I’d need somebody until the babysitting service can find a replacement. Probably for a couple of weeks.”
Sloane’s smile turned shrewd. “IfI do this, I want time and a half.” Her stare offered no quarter, but he met her head-on anyway. He wasn’tthatdesperate.
“First of all, I still haven’t asked. And secondly, what makes you think you’re worth time and a half?” How much experience could she have if she didn’t even like kids?
“Kid wranglers who double as English tutors don’t come cheap, and this one in particular needs the cash. You said she has a lot to catch up on. Plus, you need someone to babysit on top of it. You’re getting two-for-one here. Take it or leave it.”
He folded his arms over his chest, not quite convinced. “You’re not going to teach her how to write trashy novels, are you?” Gavin asked, wary. Bree was only thirteen, for God’s sake.
Sloane’s pretty blue eyes shrank to slits. “The correct terminology for the perfectly legitimate subgenre to which I believe you are referring iserotica. ‘Trashy’ is both inaccurate and demeaning. But, to answer your question, of course I won’t teach her how to write it. In addition to being inappropriate for a young adult, it’s not what you’re asking for. If you’d ask about my background instead of just passing judgment, you’d find that I earned an MFA from NYU, and I’ve taught several creative writing courses for adults online. Like it or not, thistrashyromance author is probably more qualified to tutor middle school English than anyone else in Pine Mountain.”
He blinked. “You have a master’s degree?”
She served up a smile more syrupy than dessert wine. “Summa cum laude, buddy.”
Wonderful. All he wanted was to make sure Bree would learn Proust, not porn. So sue him for being a little protective and having his sister’s best interests at heart.
The antique grandfather clock by the double-door entrance echoed three distinct chimes through the muted chaos of kitchen prep, a literal signal that Gavin was running out of time. “Okay, what do you say we start over, here? I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Sloane’s saccharine smirk lost some of its caustic edge. “Well, you did a pretty good job of it.”
A tiny quirk tickled the corners of his mouth, daring it to bloom into a full-blown smile. “Come on. It’s a little tough to blame a guy for jumping to conclusions after overhearing all that talk aboutorgasmthis andtoe-curlingthat, don’t you think?”
But rather than get defensive or try to change the subject, Sloane chuckled. “Okay, you might have a point. But, just so you’re aware, terms liketrashyandsmutare pretty derogatory. I take my job seriously, and I expect other people to do the same.”
Damn, he’d really put his foot in his mouth. “Understood. But for the record, I take my sister’s welfare seriously, too. While I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s my responsibility to make sure Bree’s sitters are good enough to take care of her.”
Sloane’s lips parted for a split second before she pressed them together and dropped her head into a tight nod. “Right. I hope you find someone who fits the bill.”
She shifted her body back toward the table and shouldered her bright red bag. As she stood and moved to scoop up her untouched bowl of soup, something high-pitched and fierce hollered at him to stop her. Risqué books aside, he really was out of options. Plus, despite Bree’s complaint about not needing a tutor, letting her fail English wasn’t an option.
“You fit the bill.” The words flew out before Gavin could finesse them into an actual request, and he scrambled to try again. “I mean, ah, I’d really like it if you could help me out with my sister until the babysitting service can send someone to relieve you. Please.”
Sloane looked at him with wide-eyed shock, and her spoon plopped to the tablecloth with a velvety orange splash. “I don’t know,” she said, finally. “Like I said, I’m not really a kid person. To be honest, I might fit the bill less than you think.”
“But you’re responsible, right?” God, any second now, Bree was going to walk through the door with a truckload of attitude and a backpack full of English assignments. Sloane nodded.Think…think!
“If you need more money, I’ll pay you double,” he said, taking a step toward her.
Her mouth popped open, silent for only a second before she protested. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m not trying to bargain with you.”
“But I’m trying to bargain with you.” Gavin moved forward, taking steps until he was close enough to smell the spicy cinnamon notes of Sloane’s skin. “Look, my sister might not be the easiest kid to deal with, but she took our mother’s death hard. I just want someone to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t have to be alone all weekend, and I don’t want her to fail English. I’m worried about her.”
