Chapter 4
chapter
four
Official Rules for Wind from the East Nanny Service
Winnie’s take away: I shouldn’t google Brody Calahan searching for gossip about his baby momma. Which is a moot point, since I don’t find anything good anyway.
Winnie
I may or may not be fired. I don’t know, because Broody-Brody – shit!, Mr. Callahan! – is just staring at me like I’ve started speaking a foreign language.
Since he doesn’t respond, I keep ranting.
“You can’t fire me without recourse. I know I haven’t done anything to violate my contract.
I haven’t tried to engage you in whimsical play.
I haven’t adopted or rescued any pets. I haven’t touched your pickles.
And I sure as hell haven’t “invaded” your personal space.
” I tick off each stipulation with my fingers.
He opens and closes his mouth like a fish trying to breathe on land.
“You haven’t what?”
“Invaded. Your. Personal. Space.” I bite off each word, poking at the air, closing in on him, so that I am, in fact, in his personal space and poking him in the chest by the time I finish.
We’re inches apart now, and I’m suddenly aware of how much bigger he is than me.
Dang it, he may be the biggest man I’ve met up close and in person. And here I am jabbing his chest with my pointer finger. And here he is letting me do it. Just looking down at me with brown eyes that are unexpectedly warm and … maybe amused?
I’m just about to back off … (who am I kidding? I’m about to retreat.) … when he snatches my hand and holds it between us.
“That hurts,” he says softly, almost as though he’s musing to himself. Then his gaze meets mine again, and he asks, “What did you say about my …” A frown mars that perfect brow of his. “... my pickles?”
I pull my hand from his and stiffen my shoulders. “Clementine said you fired one of your nannies for trying to eat your pickles. And I haven’t stolen any of your pickles. Or even touched them. And frankly, I think your obsession with fermented foods is a bit weird.”
My tirade trails off on the last few words, because … is he blushing?
Maybe?
It’s hard to tell with so much of his face covered by that scruffy beard of his.
Suddenly disconcerted that I was touching him at all, I shove my hands into my back pockets and take a step back. “Because actually, I think you’re in my personal space,” I finish lamely.
“Just make sure you follow the contract,” he says.
“Oh, I can follow the contract because I can read. A skill I’m unsure if you yourself have, since you are currently in violation of one of the stipulations.”
“Oh yeah, which one?”
“You’re in my personal bedroom.”
His lips quirk. “That stipulation only prevents you from entering my personal bedroom.”
“Okay, well, I need you to just stay out of my personal… everything.”
His gaze slides down my body so slowly it feels like an actual touch. Then that stupid, perfect jawline of his ticks. “That won’t be a problem.” He turns around and leaves my space.
My phone pings almost immediately, and I nearly jump out of my skin. It’s a text from my older sister, Wren, and immediately, I’m smiling again. She recently married the one who got away. Technically, they got married to prevent her nasty former in-laws from pursuing custody of her son.
But I’ve known for years that she and Liam belong together.
WREN: He made me come!
ME: WHAT?!
ME: Details, woman.
WREN: In the hotel room last night. We were making out, and I was sitting on his lap.
ME: Dry humping? Please tell me it was dry humping!
WREN: Seriously, why are you like this?
Why am I like this? Because I feel like the oldest virgin alive.
I know that’s not true because I’m not even that old.
But still, I’ve been hanging on to this V-card like it’s something valuable, and I wish I’d just gotten it punched in college like most girls.
Then it wouldn’t feel like such a big deal.
But what can I say? I’m a straight girl in the field of education.
If I were a lesbian, losing my v-card under those circumstances would have been easy. But do you know how many straight dudes there are getting childhood education degrees?
Not. Many.
I don’t know why education departments haven’t started having mixers with engineering departments, but my point is this: college was a man drought for me. Ergo, dry humping=super hot.
WREN: laugh emoji
WREN: Yes, that’s totally what it was.
ME: That’s so hot. It’s the Big D Energy!
WREN: It’s not just energy.
ME: I knew it!
I didn’t actually know. I’ve never checked Liam out in that way. I mean, I objectively know he’s an attractive man. But the way he looks at my sister—the way he’s always looked at my sister—I knew he loved her. Me joking with her about his presumed big dick was just me being ridiculous.
Because the truth is, I’ve never even told my sister I’m still a virgin.
WREN: Okay, but from now on, you can’t be thinking about his Big D, energy, or otherwise. Because he’s my husband.
As if I would ever !
ME: Meow. Kitty has some claws, I see. Ready to admit that you still love him?
WREN: Yeah, you were right about that too.
WREN: He’s said some things too. These little comments.
WREN: I don’t know. I’m probably reading into things too much.
ME: Riding that orgasm high.
WREN: Something like that.
ME: What are the things he’s said that you’re overanalyzing?
WREN: That he’s going to claim me. All of me.
ME: Why is that caveman talk so damn hot?
WREN: Don’t know, but it totally is.
ME: What else?
WREN: That he’s waited for me.
WREN: That anything I need, I go to him. Anything.
WREN: Other things too, but now my brain isn’t working.
WREN: But do you know what he did?
ME: Aside from melting your brain with an orgasm?
WREN: Rude.
WREN: But yes.
WREN: He had his friends set up Keller’s room before we got here. A bed, a LEGO wall, places for his books and puzzles, and new LEGO sets.
ME: I’m not crying. You’re crying.
That is truly the sweetest. My nephew, Keller, is an amazing kid. I’m gonna miss the hell out of him now that he’s moved to Texas. Come to think of it, he and Clementine would likely get along fabulously. That thought somehow makes me feel a little sad.
WREN: I know. My poor, dumb heart didn’t stand a chance.
ME: This is what you’ve deserved all along. A man who will take care of you and love your son.
WREN: I think I’m gonna sleep with him tonight.
ME: Sleep?
WREN: No.
ME: Ride ‘em, Cowgirl!
WREN: I hate you.
ME: No, you don’t.
ME: Before you go get naked and dirty with your hot husband…
ME: I started my nanny job today.
WREN: How’d it go?
ME: He fired me.
WREN: What?
ME: Well, he tried to fire me, but his daughter, Clementine (OMG how cute is she?!), already loves me. Also he has no legitimate reason to fire me.
WREN: So is he a jackass?
ME: He’s a big ol’ grump. Hot AF, but a grumpy ass.
ME: And speaking of Big D energy, somehow I can’t stop talking about dicks around him.
WREN: Is that why he fired you? Because talking about dick in front of a child is not very professional, Winnie. That doesn’t sound like you.
ME: He hired Winslow Ashcroft, whom he assumed to be a male nanny.
ME: So he was angered by the fact that I’m a woman.
ME: I haven’t exactly figured out why.
ME: Let’s just say Brody Callahan is a big, growly, hot AF mystery. But I told him tonight I was not gonna leave his daughter.
WREN: Wait, Brody Callahan? THE Brody Callahan?
ME: Huh? Who is THE Brody Callahan?
WREN: Only the best Tight End player from the Memphis Blues.
ME: The football team?
ME: Huh, that would explain the football paraphernalia I saw in the office/library .
WREN: He was Colt’s favorite player.
WREN: He retired right around the time Keller was born.
WREN: If I remember correctly, there was some scandal about his baby mama. But the details were never fully revealed.
ME: You think it’s the same guy?
WREN: Has to be. That Brody Callahan was totally from around Big Woods.
ME: Well, I’m going to be the best nanny Clementine has ever had.
WREN: Of that, I have no doubt.