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“It’s time for bed, baby.” I pat the bed, and she nods. As we move through her familiar bedtime routine, though, I hope for both of our sakes that I am actually right about our new nanny.
June
Atexactlythreeo’clockthe next afternoon, I ring the doorbell to the York house, a stately colonial tucked away on a quiet street in Haddonfield, New Jersey. I don’t know why, but I assumed the professional athletes all lived downtown in Philadelphia. One of my college friends dated a guy on the baseball team, and that’s where the baseball players lived. It’s the hippest place for young and wealthy singles, and I suppose that’s what most of the young athletes are. Haddonfield is one of the older suburbs of Philadelphia. Lots of expensive but tasteful cars on the street. Plenty of manicured lawns. It reminds me of Lily’s house in Moorestown, about fifteen minutes away, and it’s exactly the kind of place people dream of raising their children. Well, it’s the sort of place I hope to raise mine. Someday. Last night I discovered the Philadelphia Tyrants team practices in a facility in southern New Jersey, so I guess it’s convenient. Just unexpected.
Then again, after yesterday’s interaction with my new employer, I have no idea what to expect. Mentally, I rehearse what I plan to say. Remembering how he caught me investigating him brings a flush to my face. Not exactly my best first impression.
I square my shoulders. There’s nothing I can do about that now, so no point in dwelling on it. We had a rough start, but we’re going to be working together for months. I’ll apologize. Get it out in the open so we can move on. He still hired me, after all. That must mean something.
I clutch a Tupperware container to my chest with one hand and grip my worn, taped-together suitcase with the other. I brought cookies for Tabatha. They’re chocolate chip, a classic and one of my specialties. Mama Lily’s own recipe, made with browned butter. According to the file they gave me yesterday, Tabby doesn’t have any allergies, so I assume homemade baked goods will be okay. Besides, Lily always says sweets soften people up. With any luck, they’ll work on Tabby’s father, too.
The lock disengages, and the door swings open. I pin a smile on my lips.
If I was anxious before, a doorway full of Emmett York does nothing to calm me down. He’s not the pretty kind of good-looking. In jeans and a T-shirt, bare feet, and covered in scruff, he’s rugged, muscular, and moves with the sort of grace I expect from predators in the wild. Also, he has the hottest feet of anyone I’ve ever met. In fact, he’s the definition of masculine hotness.
He also smells amazing.
I take a deep breath and launch into what I prepared to say. “Good afternoon, Mr. York. Before we get started, I want to apologize for yesterday. We got off on the wrong foot. I know nothing about hockey, and no one had given me the name of my new employer until I got to the second interview. Obviously, I was curious.” The words are a rush of air, and I gesticulate along with them. “Since I like to be informed—”
“You decided to Internet stalk me?”
I’m sure one side of his mouth twitches. Is he laughing at me? I shrug. “Well, not in front of you. And I didn’t plan to get caught.” Of course I intended to Internet stalk him. Isn’t that what everyone does when they need to know things about people? I inhale and motion to the door. Pasting a smile on my face, I try again. “May I come in?”
He steps to the side and waves me through. “By all means, Miss Harlow.”
“June,” I say as I step around him. “You should call me June. I am going to be living in your house, after all.”
“Duke,” he mutters.
“What?” I ask, lugging my suitcase in beside me.
“That’s what people call me,” he adds. “Duke. Because of my last name. Like the Duke of York.”
“Right.” I read that somewhere. In his foyer, I’m surprised again. He had updated all the spaces, even though the home appeared to be older, maybe even historic. There are gleaming hardwood floors underfoot and a sparkling chandelier overhead. I’m painfully aware of how my luggage and I don’t fit here. I glance around. “Is Tabatha here? I’ve been looking forward to meeting her.”
“It’s Tabby. She hates Tabatha.” He closes the door behind me, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “She’ll be home from school in a few minutes.” He motions to my luggage. “What’s this?”
Isn’t it obvious? “My clothes.”
“Your clothes.”
“Well, yeah.” I shrug. “I have some winter clothes and jackets in storage. When it gets cold, I’ll pick them up.” I narrow my eyes. “This does offer room and board, correct? I mean, I plan to help with the cooking and housework, but I thought I would live here.” My stomach sinks. I don’t want to call Ava back. “I’m sure that’s what Ms. Raybourne—”
He stops me. “You don’t need to help with housework.”
“Of course, I’ll help with housework.”
“And it does come with room and board,” he says like I hadn’t even spoken. “I just expected more.”
“More what?”
“Suitcases.”
“More suitcases? I only have the one.”
“You only have one suitcase? Or enough clothes for the one?”
“Both.” The way he’s looking at my suitcase makes me feel awkward. “I’ve never really seen the need for much stuff,” I offer. “I feel like people waste a lot, and I prefer to live smaller. Plus, I just graduated from school, and there isn’t much space in dorms, as you know—”
