Chapter 3
Ivy
“I used to babysit that damn trollop. Let me knock some sense into her,” Rose demands from her leather recliner in the living room.
“She’s not responsible for the district-wide budget cuts. She can’t just hire me back,” I call back to Rose from the kitchen, where I’m plating our dinner.
Rose rolls her eyes as I walk into the living room holding our plates. I hand her one, then plop down in the identical chair next to hers. Crossing my legs, I balance my plate on the armrest, and twirl some pasta onto my fork.
“They can’t just let you go,” she grumbles as she scoops some food onto her fork as well.
“Actually, they can,” I say. “But I appreciate your undying loyalty.”
“We ride at dawn,” she replies, dead serious, and I nearly choke.
“What? Did I not use that right?” she asks, genuinely curious.
“Yep, you did,” I assure her, still coughing. “Just wasn’t expecting that.”
“Sophie said it when she was over yesterday, and I liked it,” she chirps, grinning as she takes a huge bite of food.
Right. My last day of employment.
Insert eye roll.
After I left Mrs. Abbott’s office, post getting shit canned—Rose’s words, not mine—I drove straight home and broke the news. Rose consoled me briefly before pivoting into a full blown, deep seated rage.
She has been plotting my return to education ever since.
She’s told me more than once not to worry about the money, insisting she’ll be fine until I find another job. She’s out of her mind if she thinks I would ever stiff her on rent.
I can get by for the next month or two, but starting tomorrow, I really need to kick it into gear and find a job as soon as possible. Rose and I finish eating, and I hustle to get our dishes washed so we can finish our episode of Jeopardy.
————
After bidding Rose goodnight, I make sure her front door is locked before heading out. My flip flops slap against the wet grass as I cross the lawn, then climb the stairs to my studio apartment directly above the detached garage.
Though her home is older, Rose has kept it, and this apartment in pristine condition.
The carpet is a dated shade of blue, but it’s spotless.
The space came furnished with a queen bed on a wooden frame, matching nightstands, and a small bistro table with chairs.
On the opposite wall, there’s a kitchenette and bathroom.
It’s exactly what I need. No more, no less. I just have to find a way to keep it, because I refuse to take advantage of Rose. I know she’s comfortable financially, but that comfort includes the money she makes from renting this place.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I’m kicking my shoes off at the door. I slide it out to see who’s calling me on a Sunday night. My lip tugs up in the corner when I see the name on the screen.
“Good evening, this is Ivy,” I say in an overly serious tone—my standard greeting whenever Sophie calls.
“Good evening,” she replies, the joy in her voice unmistakable.
“What’s got you all jazzed up?” I ask, holding my phone between my ear and shoulder as I pull my mess of waves into a knot at the top of my head.
“I found you a job!” Sophie nearly screams.
I stop, frowning. Either in confusion or disbelief. “Uh, come again?”
“I found a job for you. It pays more too,” she adds smugly.
“I’m not selling feet pics Soph. I'm not that desperate.” I pause, then reconsider. “Yet. I mean, I’m not saying people who sell pictures of their feet are desperate. More power to them, you know? I just feel like that’s a mental hurdle I’d personally have to overco–”
“Ivy!” Sophie interrupts. “Jesus, I’m not suggesting you sell pictures of yourself. You’d probably make a killing though,” She says through a giggle.
“Then what?” I press, about to start yelling if she doesn’t spit it out.
“A nanny,” she finally says.
I can hear the smile in her voice.
That’s definitely not what I was expecting her to say. I don’t immediately hate the idea, especially for more money, but who does she know that needs a nanny?
“Um, I don't know if I want to work for a fancy person who can afford a nanny. Also, what if the kids suck?” I think out loud as I plop down on the edge of my bed.
“Well this person isn’t fancy, although he can afford a nanny and then some.” She scoffs. “And I can guarantee the kid, only one, doesn’t suck. In fact, she’s probably the coolest kid in the world.”
“Then spit it out, damn you!” I demand.
“My brother Wes’s nanny quit on him on super short notice, and he needs to find a replacement ASAP.
The child is my niece, Lilah, you know the one I'm always showing you pictures of? He would need you from the morning until the early evening on the weekdays, plus some overnights on the weekends when he works late.” She pauses before adding, “He has a guest room that would be all ours on those nights.”
I bob my head back and forth, contemplating. “I haven’t met Wes right?” I ask her, trying to recall.
I’ve been to a couple weekend family dinners at her parents’ house, and I’ve met two of Sophie’s three brothers, but the third has never been there when I have.
The Coopers really are the nicest people. They’re warm and welcoming, and they have that knack for making you feel like you’re part of the family the second you walk through the door. So if Wes is anything like them, it should be okay.
I definitely remember Maverick—Sophie’s twin.
His hair is a little darker than her bright blonde, and he’s tall.
He’s got that easy charm, too. He probably charms the pants right off anyone with those little smirks he wears, except for me unfortunately.
Probably because he looks so much like Sophie.
He just didn’t do it for me. Not for lack of trying on his part, though.
Then there was the other one. Tall, dark hair, quiet. Lincoln I think? I don’t know for sure because he either kept to himself, or just talked to Maverick every time I’ve seen them.
“You haven’t met him yet. You met Maverick and Lincoln,” Sophie clarifies.
I stay silent for a moment, considering my options. Her niece is super cute from what I’ve seen in photos, and from what I heard, she’s a really good kid.
“Hmmm.” I hum, “He’s already agreed to this?” I ask skeptically.
“Well… no. I haven’t told him yet. I wanted to get you on board first. I’m sure he’ll want to meet with you. He’s kind of desperate, and this is perfect timing! You just lost your job–”
I wince. The reminder still stings.
“And Wes just lost his nanny for Lilah. I mean, if that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.”
Well, I don't know about that. I’d like to think getting fired wasn’t some predetermined event by the universe, but what the hell do I know?
I moved here for a fresh start, and I had that when I got hired at Canyon Creek Middle School.
Teaching wasn’t quite the dream I thought it would be, but at least I was using my degree.
Then I lose my job…and this opportunity gets dropped in my lap.
I nibble on the edge of my thumb and mull it over.
If I were to get hired by Sophie’s brother, I would have way more free time than I ever did teaching.
For the last two years my nights have been swallowed by planning lessons and grading papers, leaving virtually no time for anything I truly enjoyed.
If this happened, I could spend my nights doing whatever my heart desired.
Then it hits me like a damn freight train.
I could start writing again. Evenings and most weekends would be completely free.
Holy shit.
A spark of excitement lights in my chest, and suddenly, I know exactly what I want to do.
“Ivy?” Sophie calls out after I’ve been silent for longer than what is normal.
“Alright, I’m in,” I reply, the confidence seeping out of me now.
“Yes!” she shouts back.
Hell yes.
————
I finish buttoning up my white dress shirt, and debate tucking it into my black slacks, or leaving it out.
I doubt I’ll have to dress like this if I get the job, but I refuse to go to an interview in something unprofessional.
Though normally I go bare-faced, I decided to wear minimal makeup, just some mascara with a bit of concealer and blush—just enough to look put together.
I slip on my cleanest sneakers, grab my purse and keys and hurry out the door.
I’m not late, but I want to be at least ten minutes early.
I wrench my car's door open, the hinges creaking loudly, and toss my stuff in the passenger seat. After I close the door I double check the location Sophie texted me. It’s a Cafe I’ve been into a few times before, so I won’t have an issue getting there.
After a quick drive, I pull into a spot just outside The Creek Cafe.
I really should come here more often. It’s a cute building, with exposed brick and flower boxes lining the storefront.
The A-frame chalkboard sign out front lists their specialty drinks and fresh baked goods they offer, making it every inch the small town cafe.
I rest my hands on the steering wheel, and take a deep breath. In for four, hold for four, out for four. I repeat affirmations about confidence and kicking ass until my nerves somewhat settle, then get out and enter the coffee shop.
Sweeping my eyes across the room, I scan for the man Sophie described.
Messy dark brown hair. Tall. Tattoos. Scowl.
I don’t see anyone of the sort, so I order myself a coffee and grab a table by the window. I am early, so I’m not worried. Hopefully this view will make it easy to spot him.
One minute before our meeting time of ten o’clock, a tall figure enters behind a small group of people. His head clears everyone else’s, and I watch as his eyes dart around the room, looking for me, I assume. I can’t see anything but his head, but I’m guessing this mountain of a man is Wes.
Messy brown hair? Check.
Tall? Check.
Hot as fuck? Checkity check.