8. Fresh Outta Nannies
8
Fresh Outta Nannies
OLIVER
“Before you go getting all stubborn and digging in your heels, just hear me out.” Not my smoothest opening line to a negotiation. In my defense, the day had been long, the house was loud—even behind the study’s closed door—and my kids had barely re-composed themselves after Carly ‘came to visit them’ for Thanksgiving. I needed a goddamn restraining order at this point. As it was, security would no longer be permitting her onto the property. I was so far past sick of her shit, it wasn’t funny.
“Thirty seconds,” Leigh said with a devilish smile.
Well, someone looked like she was feeling better. Fuck, she looked incredible. Not that I could say that.
“Deal. No interruptions.”
“I do believe we’ve managed an abundance of conversations without arguing.”
“Can you just agree to let me get this out?”
“Christ, Ollie,” she muttered—but there wasn’t any bite in it. Her smile grew as she shook her head. “I can’t stay mad at you, jackass. You meant well.” She held out an expectant pinky. “I solemnly swear I will hear you out.”
Relief whooshed through me. At least for now, our mountain-goat-worthy head-butting seemed resolved. I wrapped my pinky around hers and we shook.
The instant I let her hand go, her brows arched expectantly. I took a breath, trying to figure out how to frame this. What angle gave me the best shot?
“You love my kids. And they love you.”
She snorted, leveling me with a playful glare. “That’s not news.”
“What did I say about interrupting?”
“That stipulation was agreed to when I thought you had a point.”
“You’re at my house all the time.”
“Again—that’s not?—”
I darted my hand up, pressing my fingers lightly to her lips. Her breath hitched, those steel-blue eyes widened, and her lips parted beneath my touch. My blood roared. I pulled back like I’d been burned, and we both swallowed.
I cleared my throat. “Listen, Trouble, I’m in a pinch. And frankly, I trust you more than anybody else in my life. I mean, my life’s a fucking dumpster fire right now. Honestly, I’m just kinda sick of everything and?—”
“Ollie,” she cut in, softer this time. “ What do you need? Say the word.”
I exhaled. “I’m fresh outta nannies.”
“What!?” She practically choked.
“Carly scared off Oaklyn.”
She scowled. “What a useless fucking cuntcake. What is her fucking problem, anyway?”
My laugh caught in my throat. “Yeah, well, it’s gonna take a bulldog to deal with her shit,” I said, dipping my chin in her direction. If Leighton could handle Greyson fucking Hart, Carly didn’t stand a chance.
“I mean, she lasted longer than I thought she would and—oh. Oh.” Leigh stepped back, brain catching up. “Ollie, I…”
“Need a job,” I finished. “One that doesn’t make you work twice as hard to barely scrape by. And I need someone I won’t have to replace in three months. Someone who can handle overnights when I travel, unpredictable hours, who won’t drive me up a wall on family trips. Someone I trust to get the kids to practices, therapy, classes—without me picking my cuticles bloody from anxiety. Honestly, you’d be doing me a colossal favor.”
“Ollie, I don’t have any childcare experience.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “Leighton, I’m not looking for a degree—I’m looking for someone who will love my kids the way they deserve. And it certainly helps that they’re both head over heels for you. Plus, you’re the only one who can keep Carly from running off the next poor soul I hire. Between the two of you, my money’s on you every time.”
She bit her lip, brows drawn. “Ollie?—”
“The pay’s decent. But honestly, name your price. I’d sign the check, even if it was highway robbery.”
“Okay, hold up.” She hiked a thumb over her shoulder, cocking a hip. “This morning, I tell you I don’t want your money. That I’ll figure it out. And now you’re going all Prince Phillip charging the gates? I’m not in a coma, Ollie—I meant what I said.”
Shit. Treading dangerously close to disaster here.
I shook my head. “We’re not talking about a handout. You made your point—perfectly. But you’d be amazed what you could accomplish if you just accepted a little help.”
“‘You’ and ‘help’ in the same sentence is a natural oxymoron.”
“So is ‘self-made man,’ but that’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point? Because you’re threatening my appetite and that’s dangerous business when Alice has spent all day?—”
“I’m offering you an honest-to-god nine-to-five—well, seven-thirty to seven. Plus some weekends. And travel. And you’re pretty much always on call, but… same difference.”
“You’re fucking serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
Her eyes narrowed. Whoops. Poor word choice.
“Listen, Trouble. I just need them with someone I trust. And the list is short.”
“How short?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
I flashed her a crooked smile. The one that got me invited back into more houses than I cared to admit. “ One candidate short.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Yes. ‘Yes’ would make my life infinitely better.”
She chewed on her lower lip. I stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out and freeing it. “Didn’t Oaklyn live with you?”
“You can have her old room. I don’t need help cleaning or anything. I won’t bug you during off hours?—”
She shook her head, and my stomach sank.
“Ollie, I’m sorry. But I can’t work for you. Let alone live with you.”
My shoulders sagged. “Why the hell not?”
She arched a brow. “I think you’re perfectly capable of answering that question.”
“I swear to be a perfect gentleman.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” She sighed. “Seeing you every day, being under the same roof, taking care of sick kids, bumping into each other at events… It’s a terrible, horrible, very bad, no good idea.”
“Name one person better suited to care for them.”
Leighton scowled, like the concept insulted her.
“ See? I rest my case. You’re the logical answer. You need a steady job, and I need—well Mary Poppins . But shy of a magical bag and flying umbrella, you’re the closest embodiment. Hell, even your objections come in the form of children’s stories.”
“Hazards of a big family.” She bobbed her head, and I resisted the need to laugh.
“Regardless.”
“Okay, I?—”
“What? Wait, are you saying yes?”
“ No . Not yet,” she cut me off, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
“ Yet is good. I can work with yet. Now, what’s your concern?”
“Ollie…” she chastised, like I should already understand. “Even if I felt qualified— which I don’t —I cannot in good conscience live with you.”
“I don’t follow.”
She laughed—the sound light and glittering like an entirely different person than the woman digging in her heels this morning. She felt like my Leighton. I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my lips.
“Look, this whole ‘friend’ thing is a stretch for me on my best days. A girl can only show so much restraint.”
I was suddenly incredibly relieved that I’d lucked out being born into a featherless species, because if I had, I would absolutely be preening.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she demanded, shoving a hand against my chest. Yep. Definitely preening.
“Like what?”
“Like you wanna jump my bones.”
“Leigh, just because our circumstances aren’t conducive to continuing where we left off… don’t kid yourself into thinking I don’t dream about it on a daily basis.”
“ Daily ?” Her eyes sparkled.
“Daily.”
“See? This—I—you— we ?—”
“Very good,” I teased. “That was almost sentence-adjacent.”
She narrowed her eyes as I parroted her words from Halloween. With a flustered huff that painted her cheeks pink, she snapped, “It’s not conducive to the whole ‘come work for me’ debacle, and it’s entirely reinforcing that under absolutely no circumstances can I sleep under the same roof as the man with my v-card in his wallet and a smile like that .” She gestured violently toward my face. “Do you have any idea what ovulation does to a woman’s common sense?”
I just grinned wider. “Okay. So. What if you keep your condo?”
“What do you mean? How the hell would that work?”
“It’d make for longer days. I leave for work around seven-thirty—eight at the latest. If you can be there by seven-fifteen, I don’t see a problem. I’ll increase your salary to account for rent.”
“First of all, that’s wildly unnecessary. And… purely hypothetical here, what would that—again, entirely hypothetical —salary be?”
“I had Oaklyn at a hundred and sixty thousand a year, paid monthly, plus benefits.”
“Are you fucking kidding me ? ” she squeaked, her eyes practically bugging out.
Glowering, I shook my head. “I am not kidding you. I’ll adjust to account for housing, of course, but if you need more?—”
She slapped a palm over my mouth, eyes wild. I stared at her in surprise. The woman had brass most men couldn’t even fathom. It was fucking adorable.
“Ollie, are you high?” she hissed, looking more terrified than thrilled—not exactly the reaction you expect when offering someone a six-figure salary. “You’re offering to pay me six fucking figures to take care of two of the coolest kids on the planet?! Have you lost your mind?”
I peeled her hand off, tracing my thumb over her knuckles as I asked, “Is that a yes?”
“That’s way too much! I already told you I don’t want your money, and this feels an awful lot like you trying to fix my problems.”
I scowled. “On the contrary, that’s the going rate in this neighborhood.”
“ Seriously? ”
“Ellington pays his nanny more. Granted, his kids are feral.”
“Holy Hawkeye .” She stared at me, like she was waiting for a punchline. “Shit. What the hell does Carly do to these nannies?”
“Steadily destroys their self-esteem. Paints them as the villains to the kids.”
“Good luck,” she muttered. “Carly could kick me in the shins daily and, for thirteen grand a month, I’d smile while she did it.”
“Jesus, Trouble— wait . Are you saying yes?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never—but this is— you are —the kids are amazing and—umm.” She jammed her eyes closed and sucked in a deep breath, releasing it slow and steady. I kept thumbing soft circles across the back of her hand, relishing the stolen contact. Finally, she whispered, “This isn’t charity?”
“Fuck no, Leighton. You’re the only person I thought of when Oaklyn walked out. The only woman I’d trust to handle not just my kids, but their psychotic mother.”
“I make no promises to leave her face intact.”
“I have attorneys on retainer.”
“No need. My brothers taught me how to get someone to swing first.”
I shrugged. “Self-defense is a viable argument.”
She laughed but dropped her gaze, chewing her lip. I stayed quiet. Greyson’s strategy. Sometimes silence did more than words. And sure enough, when she looked up again, her walls were down.
She blew out a breath. “I keep my condo.”
“Done.”
“You’re not paying me extra for housing. That concept makes me vomit in my mouth, and Greyson already paid off Alice’s mortgage, so...”
“Valid point.”
“We keep things perfectly professional.”
Rule number one of sales: clarifying questions are a good sign. Means the pitch is working. She could hit me with as many as she wanted. I’d take ’em all.
“Find me a Bible and I’ll put my hand on it.”
“And you treat me like any other employee. No weird strings.” She waggled her fingers in my direction.
“I’ll henceforth pretend you’ve never seen me naked.”
“Ollie!” she barked, glancing at the doors.
Chuckling, I held up a hand. “Sorry. One last joke. For old times’ sake.”
“You’re a menace.”
“Yes, I am. But I’ll behave—if you agree.”
“And the sky is green.”
“I mean it. I’ll follow your lead. Your rules.”
“No more naked jokes?”
“Fine.”
“No tattling to my siblings about my prior predicament. Or any future hypothetical personal things you learn from being around me.”
“I’m no fink.”
“No giving me special treatment just because I’m—well, because I’m me. If I suck at this, you call me out. If I cross a line?—”
“You won’t.”
“But if I do.”
“I’ll be the first to tell you. Well, or Mattie will.”
I wasn’t even sure she realized she was still holding my hand. But then she squeezed it, and said—abruptly, like ripping off a Band-Aid—“Okay.”
My heart stuttered. “Is that… Was that a yes?”
She pressed her fingers to her mouth and turned toward the window—presumably facing my house across the street. From the other side of the doors, the sounds of kids running and laughter filtered in.
I waited.
Finally, she turned back to me with a grin that could have lit the whole block. She nodded once. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it was.”