Chapter Seven
B efore I know it, it’s been three weeks since I started working for the Kincaids. There haven’t been any serious meltdowns or tantrums and I was hoping that this wasn’t the calm before the storm. The time when a nanny first starts and children behave like angels before they turn into hellions. I had high hopes it wouldn’t be like that, but I was prepared for anything. I haven’t really talked to Mr. Kincaid since that night in his office. He’s been coming home even later each night since and holes up in his office until after I’m asleep, I imagine. I can see the fatigue all over his face each morning when he leaves for work.
If I’m even awake by the time he leaves.
Margot has already left for school when Mr. Kincaid pads through the kitchen, very clearly not dressed for work. He looks as if he’s just woken up, his hair slightly disheveled, his clothes wrinkled from sleep and it’s the first time I’ve seen him like this.
Still so strikingly handsome even first thing in the morning.
He yawns, mumbling a quiet good morning , before making his way to the coffee maker. I try my best not to pay attention to how the sweatpants cling to him or the t-shirt that shows off his toned arms. It’s loose across his torso, so I can’t make out a ton of definition but I do see a hint of a happy trail when his shirt rides up slightly. I avert my gaze not wanting to think about the hair there or what lies just beneath it.
“Long night?” I ask as I start cutting up some fruit for Isla and SJ’s lunches.
“I think I slept an hour,” he says while pulling a mug out from the cabinet.
I frown, seeing the exhaustion all over his face and thinking about how he has another long day ahead of him. “Oh, can I make you some breakfast?”
“No, I—” he starts before he leans against the counter. “Actually yeah, whatever you’re making the kids is fine.”
“I was just doing eggs and fruit today, but I can make you an omelet if you like. You just have to tell me what you like in it. When are you leaving, so I can make sure it’s ready?”
“I’m working from home today,” he tells me and the slight tremor that moves through me in response tells me I’m very aware of the fact that it means we’ll be alone here all day.
So? You’ve been in the house alone with dads before.
When, exactly?
“Oh. That’s good. You’ve been working really hard and…you look tired.”
“Thanks,” he replies sardonically before he takes a sip of his coffee.
“I mean you look good—” I freeze, realizing what I said. “I’m just glad you’re taking a day for yourself to rest,” I correct.
“I wouldn’t call it a day for myself,” he says, “I’ll still be working. But…I think I’ll take the kids to school. I feel like I’ve barely seen them all week.” He takes another sip, but his eyes stay trained on mine over the mug.
“They’ll love that,” I tell him as I zip up Isla’s lunchbox. Right on cue, she comes running into the kitchen still in her pajamas. “Ellie, Ellie!” She hops up on one of the bar stools. “Hi, Daddy!” she adds with a wave before turning back to me. “Can you French braid?”
“I sure can.” I nod. “Do you want me to do them for you?”
“Yes, pleeease!” she says with her hands steepled under her chin before putting a hand on each side of her head. “Two.”
“Okay,” I tell her as I begin scrambling her eggs.
“Isles, how do you feel about Daddy taking you to school today?” Mr. Kincaid asks her.
Isla looks at her Dad before turning to me, confused. “You’re not taking us?” I know it’s only been three weeks, but children thrive under structure and a schedule so I’m not surprised that she’s confused when she expects me to take her and pick her up every day. “Are you leaving?”
“No no, of course not!” I shake my head as I plate her eggs along with her fruit and a piece of toast. “Your Daddy just wants to take you today.”
“Okay.” She shrugs before plucking a blueberry off of her plate. “Are you going to pick us up from school too?”
I glance at Mr. Kincaid to allow him to answer that question. “Either me or Elianna.”
“Okay…but please don’t be late. I don’t like being the last kid there.” She gives him her best side-eye and I resist the urge to laugh at her attempt to lecture her father.
“That happened one time, Isla, and you weren’t the last kid there. Sawyer was with you.”
“Two times,” she says holding up two fingers.
He nods at her before he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I won’t be late, Isla,” he tells her before he leaves the room, and I admit, I stare after him a little too long. I’m grateful it’s just Isla in the room who doesn’t notice.
I have to stop, I chastise myself. I do not have a crush on Mr. Kincaid.
Well, that’s been shot to hell now.
I look up from where I’m chopping an onion for the lasagna soup I’m making for dinner when I hear the basement door open and out of the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Kincaid walking up the stairs from the basement, shirtless and dripping sweat. I only catch a quick glimpse but it’s enough to see his chest and toned back glistening before he makes it to his bedroom. I set the knife down on the cutting board so I don’t accidentally sever a finger while I’m in the trance brought on by seeing the v-cut of my gorgeous employer.
Employer, Ellie. Absolutely not.
I wipe my hands and pull out my phone immediately.
Me: SOS
Jacqueline: Present!
Me: I think I have a crush.
Jacqueline: Oh! who who who??
Me: Who do you think?! Rowan, obviously!
Jacqueline: I KNEW IT! OMG what happened
Me: Nothing! And nothing is going to happen
Jacqueline: Why not!? Fuck Hot Daddy Rowan ASAP and tell me everything!
Me: Can you not?
Jacqueline: I’ve been your best friend for almost six years. You knew this was what you were getting when you texted me. Be serious. Now, when are you getting waxed?
Me: Not helping!
Jacqueline: Okay, I can make the appointment for you? Does that help?
Me: BYE
Jacqueline: Okay but before you go, can I ask why nothing can happen?
Me: Because it’ll make things very messy and so many things could go wrong.
Jacqueline: Maybe. But how about you don’t focus on that? You always overthink everything. What if you just did what you wanted to do and didn’t obsess over what could possibly happen next?
Me: Because this is bigger than just me!
Jacqueline: Look, you’ve put everyone first your entire life. You never do anything just for you.
Me: It’s called being considerate of other people and their feelings.
Jacqueline: What about your feelings? More specifically the warm and tingly ones you get when you look at Hot Daddy Rowan?
Me: Can you stop calling him that?!
Jacqueline: Why? It’s foreshadowing of what you’ll be calling him in a few weeks.
“What are you making?” I’m typing out my reply when his words cut through the silence and my head snaps up to look at him. He’s still sweaty from his workout but he’s at least put on a shirt and I find myself simultaneously grateful and disappointed for that. He walks by me to the refrigerator and I try not to breathe when he passes me but I still get a whiff of that masculine sweaty scent.
“Ummm…” I pause, having momentarily forgotten what I’m making while I was trying not to ogle him. “Lasagna soup.”
“Sounds good.” He takes a long sip of water. “I have a call that got moved to two-thirty now, so I will need you to pick up SJ and Isla…if you can.” He adds as an afterthought, like it would be an inconvenience for me to do my literal job.
“Yes, of course.” Neither one of us says anything for a second, and I feel the heat starting to creep up my neck toward my cheeks. “Was there something else?” I ask.
“No…ummm…” He looks off to the side like he’s searching for something to say. “Isla really loved her hair. She talked about it the whole way to school. Thank you for…doing that. I’m terrible at it and Margot is usually gone by the time Isla wakes up.” He trails off. “Her mom was always the one to do it and I know that’s just one of the many things she misses. I’m glad that this is maybe one less thing she doesn’t have to miss.” He smiles before giving me a curt nod and then he’s out of the kitchen and heading back toward his room.
I am so screwed.
I don’t see him for the rest of the day— something I’m slightly disappointed about —and I still hear him on his call when I’m preparing to go pick them up from school so I send him a text.
Me: Leaving now to go pick up Sawyer and Isla! Is there anything you need me to do on the way home?
I’m barely out of the front door before he responds.
Mr. Kincaid: No, thanks. See you in a bit.
I’m at the school ten minutes before school lets out just like always. Hearing Isla tell her dad not to be late sent a feeling of disappointing nostalgia through me. It wasn’t often, but I remember being one of the last kids left at school before my younger sister, Emily, started. On both occasions, my parents thought the other was picking me up and I was left at school thirty minutes after the next to last kid was picked up. I remember feeling embarrassed and also like a burden to the teachers who had to wait with me.
The worst.
I rarely have had to pick kids up from school but I always vowed to make sure I was on time or early if I ever did.
I’m reading a book on my phone while I wait when I notice a woman walking toward my car. It’s not the same woman that introduced herself last week… Abigail something ? But she is one who was in that group of women who were undoubtedly sizing me up. I roll my window down as she approaches and give her a smile. “Hi.”
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you today since Rowan dropped them off.” She blinks her shimmering blue eyes at me which probably have most men in a daze.
Do they have a tracker on this man or something?
“Oh, well. I’m here.” I giggle nervously, trying my best to keep the conversation lighthearted.
She tucks a dark strand behind her ear. “We just didn’t get a chance to finish talking and…I wanted him to have this.” She hands me a neatly folded piece of paper. “This is…kind of embarrassing, having you be the middleman and all. It’s like high school all over again.” She shoots me a dazzling smile revealing perfectly straight teeth and I can’t quite tell if it’s genuine.
I look down at the paper in my hand and try to ignore the tiny pang of annoyance shooting through me. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“This might be totally inappropriate but…woman to woman…you’ve been there a couple of weeks now, and I’m just curious, do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”
“Oh…uhh I have no idea.” And even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you so it could be the topic of gossip amongst all of the mothers in the parent-teacher administration.
“I see. Well, if you could just give him that and tell him Corinne says hi.” She raises a hand to wave and when I turn in the direction she’s looking, I notice the kids have started to file out of the building. “Thanks again, sweetie,” she says before she walks toward a little girl who is walking toward us. I try not to let her words feel like a condescending dig but irritation flares through me.
I get out of the car when I see Isla walking toward the car and I’m impressed that her braids are still intact. “They didn’t fall out!” she says and I nod, grateful that her hair is thicker and also that I’d used a little bit of hairspray. “It looks so pretty!” She holds up her hand and I give her a high-five.
“Sure does!” I tell her as I help her into the car.
“I thought Dad was picking us up?” I hear Sawyer’s voice from behind me and then he’s moving around to the other side of the car. I follow behind him after making sure Isla is buckled in and climb into the driver’s seat.
“He had a call, but you’ll see him at home.”
“Do you know if he’s in a good mood?” he asks.
I look at him through the rearview mirror and narrow my eyes at him warily. “Why…”
He turns his head to look out the window, avoiding my gaze. “Well…I may have gotten into a liiittle…back and forth.”
“Sawyer…” I warn.
“It was nothing!”
“It sounds like something if you have to gauge your father’s mood before you tell him whatever it is.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not suspended again!”
“Well, thank…goodness?” I tell him as I slowly move through the pick-up line.
Isla looks over at him. “Don’t make Daddy mad!”
“I’m not! I didn’t do anything,” he snaps.
“Do you want to do a trial run on me?” I ask him and he shakes his head.
“Nope. I’ll take my chances.”
We make our way out of the parking lot and I find myself interested in whatever it is that he did that he doesn’t want to tell me. Sawyer is quiet most of the way home while Isla, as usual, is talking a mile a minute, filling us in on all of the latest first-grade gossip. When we make it home, Isla immediately takes off for Mr. Kincaid’s office and Sawyer moves upstairs without another word or even a glance my way. I thought Sawyer and I were in a good place, and I’ll admit I’m a little disappointed that he felt he couldn’t share whatever it is that got him in trouble.
I make my way down the hallway toward my room to put away my bag and grab my slippers when I hear Isla talking to her dad. I look in his office and I see her sitting in his lap scribbling on a piece of paper while she tells him about her day. Mr. Kincaid, who seems to be listening intently, looks up at me with a smile briefly before it falls.
“Wait, what did you say?” He grabs the pen from Isla’s hand and turns her little face toward him.
“Sawyer’s not suspended,” she says and I realize Isla really did give him the rundown of everything that happened today.
“Why would he be—” He looks at Isla, knowing she probably doesn’t have the full scope of the story, and turns to me. “Do you know anything about this?”
“It’s true, he did say he’s not suspended, but I don’t know what happened.” I wince.
“Christ.” He groans before getting up and putting Isla on her feet. “SAWYER KINKAID, MY OFFICE NOW!” he yells.
“Oooh.” Isla giggles before holding a hand over her mouth.
“Go with Elianna,” he says as he ushers Isla out of his office while pointing at me and I see Sawyer coming down the hall.
His annoyed eyes dart between me and Isla. “I’ve been home for five whole minutes.” He deadpans while looking at me.
“I told him you weren’t suspended!” Isla says proudly, like she thought she was helping.
He sighs before shaking his head.“I will remember this when you start screwing up.”
“Sawyer…” I say in a scolding tone and he rolls his eyes before walking into his dad’s office.