Chapter 5 #2
A tall shadow moves on the other side of the front door, pulling me from my Mitchell-induced bitterness. Mom gives me a pointed look, then gestures for me to open the door. I throw my head back and groan like I'm trying to do my best impression of Zoe, and then I yank the door open.
And all thoughts shrivel inside my brain like spit under the August sun. Gross, I know. But I have a seven-year-old son, so I know a bit about gross stuff.
"Noah!" Mom calls from behind me, cheerful voice booming. "Come in!"
But he can't. Because I'm standing right in the doorway. I tell my feet to move, but they refuse.
Probably because I'm staring at some kind of movie star or a male model. He even has a halo from my porch light on top of his head, and for a solid three seconds, I forget how to breathe.
"Hi," he says, stepping forward and offering his hand. "I'm Noah Mercer."
His voice is deep and smooth, with just a hint of humor that does nothing good to my brain function.
"Gahh," is all I can manage as I stare at his offered hand, at his long, strong fingers extended my way.
Mortifying. It's a wonder I'm still standing and not melted into a puddle on the hardwood floor.
He's tall. Like really tall, even for a human.
For a pixie, he's towering over me like some kind of sexy savior.
At least six-two, his broad shoulders fill out a marine-blue jacket over a clean white t-shirt in a way that should be illegal.
His dark-brown hair is cut short on the sides with a slightly tousled top, and his hazel eyes are bright and warm as they meet mine.
He's smiling, and it's the kind of smile that makes you feel like you're the only person in the room.
And his face.
Stubbled jaw, straight nose, full lips that curve up at the corners sinfully. He's so stunningly handsome that all I can do is gape at him, my mouth hanging open like a fish.
Then his smile wobbles and I blink repeatedly to dispel this strange spell he has me under.
I take his hand automatically, and his grip is firm but not aggressive. Respectful. It sends all kinds of butterflies buzzing into my stomach.
"Rika Lark," I say, then immediately shake my head. "I mean, Rika Everdeen. Sorry. My name is Rika Everdeen."
I cut myself off, feeling my face burn.
What is wrong with me? I'm never such a bumbling fool.
Great. I'm already making a fool of myself.
Noah's smile widens, and creases spread at the corners of his eyes. Adorable.
Shit. No. Not adorable.
"No worries," he says easily. "Nice to meet you, Rika."
I let go of his hand and step back, trying to pull myself together. I'm almost succeeding.
"Come in," I say, gesturing toward the living room.
He steps inside, and I watch as he shrugs out of his light jacket.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
The man is built. His biceps strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt, and when he turns to hang his jacket on the coatrack, I get a full view of his back and shoulders.
And his ass.
Perfectly round, perfectly fitted in those well-worn jeans.
I'm staring. I know I'm staring.
Noah turns back toward me, and his eyebrows lift slightly, that easy smile still on his face. He caught me.
Oh God. Kill me right now.
My entire face burns hot enough to power a small city.
"So," I say quickly, my voice pitching up half an octave. "You're a nanny."
"Manny, like the kids call me," he says with a grin. "But yeah. That's me."
From the top of the stairs, a voice rings out.
"NOAH!"
I turn just in time to see Matthew bolt down the stairs, his pale-green wings buzzing behind him, his face lit up with the biggest smile I've seen on him in weeks. He crashes into Noah's middle, wrapping his arms around him in a fierce hug.
Noah catches him easily, his big hands steady on Matthew's back.
"Hey, buddy," Noah says, his voice warm and genuine.
I stare at them, my brain struggling to catch up.
Matthew knows him. And not just knows him but likes him.
Footsteps on the stairs make me look up, and I see Zoe standing at the top, her arms folded across her chest, her expression guarded. But when she sees Noah, her face shifts.
The hard edges soften. Her lips lift in a small, genuine smile.
And once again, all my thoughts shrivel up. Zoe likes him, too?
"Hey, Noah," she says quietly.
"Hey, Zoe." Noah grins up at her. "How'd your math homework go?"
She shrugs, but the smile doesn't fade. "Good. It's pretty easy the way you explained it."
"That's awesome. I knew you had it in you."
Zoe actually blushes.
I'm floored.
This is the same girl who makes me shrivel in place if I so much as dare to ask if she needs help with schoolwork. The same girl who's made five nannies quit in six months. And she's smiling at Noah like he hung the moon.
My throat tightens. I can't dismiss this. I can't dismiss the first person who's been able to reach Zoe without triggering a nuclear meltdown since Mitchell took off into the sunset.
Even if he's a man.
Heck, even if he's the most attractive man I've seen in years and the last thing I need right now is to be distracted by a pair of hazel eyes and a jawline that could cut glass. Or a great ass that won't quit.
Standing in my living room in front of a ridiculously attractive man-nanny, I'm seriously considering all the ways I could make my mom's death look like an accident. A tragic yoga mishap, perhaps. Downward-dog-off-a-cliff style.
From the corner of my eye, I see Mom smirk like a fox who just slipped into the henhouse. Yeah. I'm definitely going to kill my mother. But first, I need to interview a sexy manny.
I take a breath and turn to Noah.
"Alright, I'll hear you out," I say, my voice icy calm. "In the kitchen."