Chapter One
CHAPTER ONE
ADDISON
“No,” I chide gently. “You can’t have another chapter. I already read three, and it should have been lights out ten minutes ago.”
“Our last nanny read us however many chapters we wanted,” protests Aiden, the oldest of the three Noble boys.
I set down the Ranger’s Apprentice volume and resist the urge to roll my eyes. Maybe that’s why she’s not your nanny anymore , I want to say. Instead, I go with the more appropriate, “That may be so, but I am not she.”
“I am not she?” Everett, the middle one, laughs. “You mean, ‘I’m not her.’”
“No,” I pat his dark hair with one hand while adjusting his blanket with the other. “It’s correct to say it the way I did. But enough stalling. Go to sleep.” I give them all a mock angry face, which makes them laugh.
I walk to the bedroom door and glance back before turning out the light. Aiden is tucked into the top tier of the enormous set of bunk beds dominating the far corner of the room. Everett and Tristan, the youngest, share the lower bunk. These kids have an enormous house—practically a mansion—and they choose to cram themselves into the corner of a single room to sleep. If I know one thing, it’s that children’s minds work in mysterious ways. And the Noble boys’ minds are no different.
“Goodnight. Sleep tight.” I gently close the door behind me and lean against it with a sigh.
Finally, the day is over. I’m completely exhausted, but the first couple of weeks are always that way. It takes time for kids to adjust to a new presence in their lives. And that means it takes more effort, smiles, and encouragement from me. I don’t mind. Kids are my life.
I’ve known since I was a kid myself that I wanted to work with children in some capacity or another. Choosing a major in college was a no-brainer once I earned enough scholarship money to attend. I got my degree in elementary education and immediately began the job hunt my senior year. I landed several interviews and was looking forward to starting my career as a teacher when all hell broke loose at home.
Damn. I won't think about that now. I have a kitchen to clean, toys to tidy, and a hot romance novel waiting in my bedroom with my name all over it.
Now, if I can only find my way back to the kitchen, I’ll be in business. This place is gargantuan! Who in God’s name needs this much space? Alex Noble, it seems. Yes, the Alex Noble, former star pitcher of the Asheville Arrows and current part-owner of the team. Fame, athletic prowess, and family fortune make a house like this practically a requirement.
At thirty-four, he’s young for retirement, but a shoulder injury changed all that. Everyone thought he’d go into broadcasting or maybe just roll around in his piles of money, but that clearly hadn’t been in his grand plans.
Not that I knew any of this before last week. I’ve never been a baseball fan. In fact, I’ve never been a sports fan in general, usually preferring to spend my time with my nose in a book or watching romantic comedies. However, ever the diligent student, I conducted thorough research before interviewing for the nanny position in the Noble household. It helps to always be prepared.
I descend the grand front staircase, an elaborate curved affair with gleaming mahogany railings and marble steps. What if I just threw my leg over the rail and slid down the whole thing? I have to imagine that’s something the Noble boys have probably done—or at least thought about. Better keep my eye out. The mental picture of little Tristan zooming down the banister with that adorable gap-toothed grin brings a huge smile to my face.
“What are you so cheerful about?” comes a stern male voice from the bottom of the stairs.
My head snaps up, and I almost lose my footing at the surprise.
“What?” I ask before my brain can register anything.
Standing at the foot of the stairs, feet firmly planted at shoulder width, is none other than Alex Noble. His inky, cropped hair is damp with what must be sweat, based on the rest of his appearance. Jogging shorts encase a pair of the most muscular legs I’ve ever seen, and a tight blue t-shirt clings to an upper body defined in planes and curves of bulging muscle. A deep vee of sweat darkens the shirt from the neckline down between his pecs and across his visible six-pack. Or is it an eight-pack? I’ll have to get his shirt off to tell for sure.
Wait, What?! Oh shit. Calm your tits, Addison!
I realize he’s spoken again, and I missed what he said. Fantastic.
The few brief encounters I’ve had with my new boss have been stilted and painful, mostly due to my inability to ignore how fucking hot this man is, and partly because he seems to be in a perpetually bad mood.
“What?” I ask again, lamely, hoping for a trick step to open up and swallow me.
“I said,” he growls, “Did you get a good enough look, or do you need me to turn around?”
My face flames with humiliation at being caught openly ogling my boss. Perhaps now would be a good time to tender my resignation so I can leave and die from embarrassment in private.