Chapter 5 #2
Quinn squints, sucks in a big breath, and blows out all four candles at once. Henry promptly takes a bite after she does. I make a mental note to praise him for that later, but right now, I need to call Julia privately, so I turn to the one person left with family resemblance.
“Hi! I’m Summer,” I say to a woman with striking amber eyes and pronounced lines bracketing her smile. A small mole dots her cheek next to her nose, and her hair fans her collarbone. With naturally tinted lips and rounded shoulders, she’s poised and effortlessly stunning.
“I’m Emma, Everett’s sister.”
I thought so. I love that she calls him Everett. It feels intimate, learning his real name.
“It’s nice to meet you. I was hoping you could point me in the direction of the bathroom?”
“Of course! It’s right down there.” She gestures toward the nearest hallway.
I thank her, hoping it’s far enough from the party to have this conversation.
A gallery wall of Rhett and Emma’s school pictures guide me there. I shut the door, prop myself on the edge of a free-standing pink claw-foot tub, and dial Julia. She answers on the first ring.
“What the hell, Jules?”
I can still hear children giggling and adult chatter over my whisper-shout, so I flick on the switch to the bathroom fan and turn on the faucet.
She giggles. “How’s Rhett Dawson?”
“You mean, Everett Dawson.”
“Oh, the two of you are on a first name basis now? And I thought him gifting you his cowboy hat was intimate.”
“This isn’t funny. I was practically thrust into his house where he was being interrogated by his mother-in-law.”
I pull open the top drawer of the vanity, needing something to do with my hands. Crest toothpaste and a Spiderman toothbrush stare back at me.
“Sounds intense. What’s her issue?”
I swing the drawer shut, opening the next one.
“Him needing help with his daughter. You should see this poor guy, Jules. He looks so overwhelmed. He couldn’t find candles in his own kitchen.”
A clump of dark hair nests in the bristles of a glittery brush. I thumb the handle. A twinge of… something has me sailing the drawer shut.
“He sounds like me.” She snorts.
I ignore her attempt at an overwhelmed-mom joke and continue rambling. “And so, what do I do, you ask? I say something stupid to his mother-in-law about being his nanny, and she—”
“Wait a minute… you said you were his nanny?” Julia interrupts.
“Yes! Keep up! And she scoffed. Drilled Ev—I mean, Rhett, about hiring some woman who’s never met his daughter. Looked at me like I’d be terrible with children. She doesn’t even know me, Julia!”
Now I’m sounding overly worked up about a job I made up.
“Maybe you should be thanking her. A single dad who loses his music career and moves into his childhood home, all in the span of six weeks? She’s probably saving you from a messy situation.”
“It’s whatever,” I grunt, opening the next drawer and shoving it closed without bothering to snoop. “I have no need to impress this woman. It’s not like I’m going to see her again.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be too sure. You have a new job. She thinks you’re her granddaughter’s nanny. Your paths are bound to cross unless you fess up to the fact that you lied.”
“Very funny.”
“I didn’t say you should. Now that I think about it, this could be good for you.”
“What?” I freeze.
“Yeah. I think if he took you up on it, you’d make a great nanny. You’re already helping with Henry. What’s one more kid, ya know?”
I lean a palm on the countertop and squint at my reflection. “How much caffeine have you had today?”
“A questionable amount.” She chuckles. “But the point is, wasn’t this what you wanted? My advice in the decision-making department?”
Why the hell did I come up with that ridiculous idea? I can’t even pretend I don’t remember saying it because I was perfectly sober at the time.
“Well, he didn’t offer me the job, so…”
“Some people have a hard time asking for help,” she says.
I pause. That tracks, actually. It’s not that he didn’t think to ask for help… The way he jerked that jar from my hands, he clearly didn’t want it.
“I’m not offering. The only thing I’m planning to do at this point is get a cupcake to go.” I let out an exasperated breath.
“You might want to tell him that, not me. But I have to say… I’m kind of liking this fairy godmother thing I’ve got going on. I feel powerful,” Julia gloats.
I hang up on her. I’ve got to get the hell out of here. I turn off the faucet and shove open the bathroom door, where it meets resistance partway.
“You have one speed,” Rhett grunts.
“S-sorry.”
His proximity pins me in the corner.
“What are you doing?”
“Uh—” We’re trapped in a cramped hallway with his broad shoulders. There’s nowhere else to look but right at him. “Using your bathroom?”
“I mean here. In my house. Telling Caroline you’re my nanny.”
I place a hand over my chest and tip my chin high. “If by here you mean Boise, then I live here. You were the one who invited me into your home. And I think what you mean to say is thank you, Summer, for saving me.”
“I had everything under control.” He tucks his hands in his pockets.
“Everett, we’re opening presents now,” Caroline calls from the living room, and a muscle tightens in his jaw.
“Yeah, no. I can see that. Control is the top priority here.” I pat him on the shoulder. Twice.
His stare is so intense it’s intoxicating. Eyes roam my face and down my neck—sweep my collarbone, and appreciate the tattoo he finds just below it. I feel heat creep into my cheeks. Panic follows it.
It’s a heart tattoo with the word stay in it, Summer. He wouldn’t make the connection.
I’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about our encounter at that concert, but I think this moment might top it.
He leans in closer, and my back meets the doorframe.
My eyelids flutter and threaten to close as his breath ghosts across my skin.
Not a single part of him is touching me, yet I feel him everywhere.
My neck, my chest, my hands, a warmth that’s spreading down my spine at his proximity.
It spins up a tornado of butterflies that have lain dormant since the last time we spoke.
I swallow down the embarrassing sound that fights its way up my windpipe, focusing instead on pulling an inhale into my lungs deep enough to ensure I won’t faint when I finally let it go.
He lifts a hand, and for a moment I think he’s going to thread it through my hair. I anticipate his touch… click.
“You left the fan on,” he grunts.
Then he’s pulling away. Disappearing down the hall and leaving me breathless. And I ask myself, for the second time since I entered his home, What the hell just happened to me?
I take a few deep breaths. Gather myself before bolting down the hall. I whisk a cupcake from the counter and whisper McDonald’s in Henry’s ear. I know it’s the only way I’ll be able to get him out of here early without a scene.
Forget saying goodbye; most of the adults I didn’t even meet, and the one I did is shooting daggers at me with her eagle eyes for interrupting Quinn’s present-opening. She won’t care that I’m gone. And Quinn is four. In a week, she won’t remember any of this.
My plan works. Henry runs willingly to the front door and slips on his light-up shoes. With a good tug on solid oak, we’re home free. I stand on his front steps facing the reporters again, and the reality of the last thirty minutes sinks in.
I think I might be Rhett Dawson’s nanny.