The Dragon’s Reluctant Manny (Paranormal Au Pair Agency #1)

Chapter 1 Ledger

ONE

LEDGER

We regret to inform you.

That was the opening line from the financial-aid office, and they could have stopped there.

I knew what was coming and closed my laptop.

There’d be paragraphs about budget restrictions and a departmental review and more blah blah blah.

I flipped open the laptop, interested to discover how accurate I’d been.

Hmmm, ninety percent correct. I deserved a high five.

The short version was that my funding was gone, effective immediately, and my dissertation on communication patterns in high-stakes professional contexts was now an expensive hobby.

I reread the email in the kitchen, standing over a bowl of cereal I could no longer afford, and did the math I'd been avoiding.

I had to pay rent, tuition was due this month, and my laptop was held together by a strip of electrical tape.

I had enough savings to last a few weeks if I stopped eating anything that wasn't rice and soy sauce.

My mom would give me money if I asked. She wouldn’t hesitate, and she’d take it from the emergency fund my parents had spent twenty years building.

That fund existed because two people had arrived in this country with three suitcases and a five-year-old—me—determined their kid was going to have options they didn't.

So, that was how I ended up sitting in the lobby of the Feeney Au Pair Agency late one afternoon, wearing my best clothes and pretending I hadn't googled “how is an au pair different from a manny?” as I sat outside in the parking lot.

I wiped my damp palms on my pants and hoped the receptionist didn’t see what I was doing.

Glancing around the office, I noted the fresh flowers and the plush carpet, and I pressed one hand on the couch which was softer than my bed.

The receptionist strolled over and offered me a glass of sparkling water on a tray.

I sipped it, and droplets spilled on my shirt but not my pants, thank gods.

This agency hadn’t been on my list, but one of my friends had worked with them, and though he’d been reluctant to give me their deets, he relented after I’d gotten on my knees and begged.

Working as a manny or au pair wasn’t my dream job. I loved kids, but it was a lot of work. But I had little money and bills to pay, so I couldn’t afford to be choosy. With room and board plus an income, a manny was the best option, no matter how grudgingly I was approaching it.

“Ledger?”

The tall woman in the doorway was wearing a navy trouser suit, and her stiff hair, which matched her expression, was likely held in place with a ton of hairspray.

Along with researching au pairs, I’d found her name on the company’s masthead.

She was Meara Feeney who’d founded this place, and I gulped the last of my water before standing up.

“That's me.”

Her firm handshake didn’t dispel the notion that she was all business.

When she led me into her office, she had me sit in one of two chairs angled toward each other. That was a deliberate choice and a technique I recognized from my own research that involved reducing the power distance and building rapport.

“Your resume is impressive.” She had a computer on her lap, but she didn’t open it. “You’re a PhD candidate in psychology, and you’ve worked with children before.”

I’d added those details to my resumé before applying to the agency.

“Yes, I was a counselor at a summer camp, and I’ve done tutoring.

I did a one-month stint as a live-in manny while their full-time help was on vacation.

” I left out the part where the kids had been tiny terrors who put a marble up my nose while I was sleeping.

Some things didn’t need to be on the record.

“Why are you looking at placement work now?”

There was no point dressing this up. Besides, Meara could probably ferret out any fibs. She had that aura that suggested she had an inbuilt lie detector.

“My funding fell through.” I looked away at a painting on the wall. “I need income that covers rent and tuition and still leaves me time to finish my dissertation. A live-in position would solve that.”

She studied me as my advisor did when I handed in a draft, scrutinizing but not judging. She may have heard similar stories in the years she’d been running this business.

“This agency serves a specific clientele.” She smoothed over her pants. “Our families require a high degree of discretion. Many of them are very private people with particular needs. There are extensive NDAs involved.”

With my finger and thumb touching, I ran them over my mouth. “My lips are sealed.” I regretted the gesture as soon as I’d done it because it was unprofessional.

“But can you be flexible? Our families sometimes have unconventional household routines that include dietary requirements and schedules that don't follow a nine-to-five structure.”

I almost laughed. “I’m a grad student, so my schedule is unpredictable.”

I thought that might get a smile out of her, but instead, she removed a folder from the desk.

“I have a placement that might work. It’s a single father with three children aged eight, six, and five.” She closed the folder. “He's been through several candidates already.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t afford to dismiss a possible job offer but wondered why he hadn’t been happy with the people Meara had sent.

“The children are spirited.”

Yikes. That word suggested I was in for more marble-up-the-nose antics. But I couldn’t show any reluctance or I’d never get the job.

“Great.”

“The position is live-in, and the family’s home is a private estate outside the city.” She slid a page across to me. “This is what they’re offering to pay.”

I looked at the number, blinked, and rubbed my eyes. The number hadn’t changed. That was significantly more than my stipend had been.

“That’s the biweekly payment.”

Maybe I gasped or grinned or danced a jig around the room because Meara finally smiled.

“The family is generous. They understand that retaining quality care requires competitive compensation, especially given their track record with previous staff.”

Did I ask her what happened? I wanted to, but I kept quiet because I needed this job.

“The role is demanding, and the father is a single dad. The temperature in the home is warm, some might say hot. The children are picky eaters, and the father is very protective and some might say humorless.”

I could work with that. I didn’t expect my employer to be a barrel of laughs, especially when I was looking after his children.

“I’d like to meet them.”

She told me I had to sign the NDA before meeting the family and her revealing their address. The NDA section alone was four pages, and some of the clauses were odd, including “species-specific dietary accommodations.”

I almost asked what “species-specific” meant, but the number on that pay sheet prevented me. Did that suggest they were vegetarian or vegan? I could do that. There’d be gas and plenty of it, but maybe I’d fit right in.

Meara walked me out. “I’m guessing we had a similar upbringing.” She'd seen my file, so it wasn’t a guess. “I arrived in this country when I was seven.” She held the door open. “I hope you’ll do well with this family, Ledger.”

The GPS took me twenty minutes outside the city and onto a private road that didn't appear on the map until I was already on it. Tall trees lined both sides of the road as my twelve-year-old car rattled over it.

When the estate appeared behind high gates, I put my foot on the brakes and studied it. There was a large three-story house surrounded by manicured lawns and extensive woods behind it. People who lived in houses like this existed in a different universe than the ones who ate cereal for dinner.

I buzzed and announced who I was, and I could almost feel someone appraising me though the camera lens.

Parking next to a black SUV with dark windows had me questioning if this was the right place for me. But my phone dinged with a message from Mom.

How’s your day, sweetheart?

Great. Talk soon.

I didn’t want her to worry, and that made me more determined to impress my prospective employer and get this job. With a messenger bag slung over my shoulder, and a quick check in the mirror, I walked to the front door.

It opened before I knocked. And the man standing in the doorway reminded me not of a stressed single dad but a runway model.

He was much taller than me, and I tilted my head up to gaze at his face.

Our eyes locked. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my stomach churned.

I worried I was going to lose my breakfast.

“Ledger.” That was my name, but it had never sounded as if it’d been swaddled in a cozy blanket.

“That's me.” I stuck out my hand, and he took it. His was warm but not normal temperature warm. Had he been holding a cup of scalding coffee before he greeted me?

But his expression changed from welcoming to maybe nauseous. Perhaps he’d had cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner too. But he recovered and smiled.

“I’m Theron Gibson. Come in.”

It was a warm day, but the house was at least ten degrees hotter than outside, and I wondered if he had a fire burning because there was a hint of smoke in the air.

Something crashed, and a child yelled, “It wasn’t me.” A second voice shouted, “It was Fraser.” There was mumbling I didn’t quite catch, something about scales.

Theron sighed, and his smile sagged. “Welcome to our home.”