Chapter 4
Shrinking Violet
SADIE
While the little boy I’m tutoring takes a break to play with some of the toys we have set up, Jane comes up to me.
“That went very well,” she says.
“He’s a great kid.” Smiling, I watch as he borrows a jaunty little topcoat from a doll and puts it on a T-Rex instead. “Are his parents interested in weekly tutoring sessions? Biweekly?”
“Actually…” Jane gives me an assessing look. “Are you still interested in a live-in nanny position?”
My ears perk up. “Absolutely.”
That would be my ticket out of the trailer for this summer. It would be a bigger paycheck than this afternoon part-time job too. I might even be able to drop the bookstore job. I like that job, but I wouldn’t mind having a day off every once in a while.
“Well, I think I have the perfect opportunity for you,” Jane says. “And since you and Jonah already get along so well, this will be perfect.”
JoJo is Jonah? Why does that name seem familiar?
Jane beams as she leads me by the elbow into her office, continuing, “The client just had his regular nanny head back to Europe, so he needs a replacement for the summer at the very least. He’s a single dad.
And…” Her voice lowers to a whisper, her eyes sparkling.
“He’s famous. So you’ll need to be discreet. ”
My stomach drops even before she opens the door to her office.
Single dad.
Famous.
Has a son.
One with green eyes, glasses, and a fondness for dinosaurs, I bet.
And I realize why the name Jonah is familiar. Because it’s the name of the son of a certain country music star whose life I know way too much about and am now really wishing I didn’t.
As she swings the door open, there sits Walker Rhodes, long legs extending in front of him, sprawled out in that small office chair like it was built for someone half his size with a quarter of his presence. Dark green eyes already fixed on me like he's been waiting.
Jane bustles in, practically forcing me into the chair next to him.
“As I was saying, Mr. Rhodes,” she begins.
“Walker, please,” he interjects. With a sidelong glance at me, he says, “Mr. Rhodes is my father.”
“Walker,” she repeats. And then she giggles. I’ve never heard Jane giggle in all my time with her. Fifty-eight years old and Walker Rhodes has her swooning like a teenager.
She continues, “Sadie is one of our most popular tutors. She’s going off to New York City to teach English in the fall.
We’ll miss her so much, and I hate to lose her to you.
But given what you told me about Jonah needing some extra help with reading, I do think Sadie here would be the perfect candidate. ”
Walker raises a dark eyebrow.
“Would she, now?” he asks, in a tone that suggests he’s really saying over my dead body.
Jane is oblivious. “Oh yes! I think you’ll be very pleased with her.”
The look in his eyes suggests pleasure has nothing to do with how he feels about me right now. Or ever, most likely.
I offer him a fake-sweet smile.
Feeling’s mutual, dickhead, I think to myself.
God. I used to fall asleep listening to this man's voice on repeat, convinced no one in the world understood heartache better than Walker Rhodes.
Turns out he just wrote about it well.
His eyes narrow.
“Perhaps Sadie and I can discuss this privately,” he tells her.
“Oh, of course! Please, take your time.” Jane puts her hand on my shoulder briefly and gives me an excited smile, like she’s so happy for me, like this assignment is a dream come true.
And it would be. If not for the fact that I’d be working for dickhead-in-chief over here, and there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell he’s going to employ me anyway. Not after our first meeting.
Jane closes the door behind her, and then it’s just the two of us in the room.
He shifts in his seat so he’s facing me more directly.
“Nice to see you in proper clothes,” he drawls.
“I’m sure seeing them clothed is a rarity for you when it comes to women,” I volley back.
His eyes glitter. “What do you know about me and women?”
Shit. It’s weird to admit I know way too much, thanks to internet gossip and tabloids.
I know he met his supermodel ex-wife on the set of one of his videos.
I know he’s been divorced from her for two years now.
I know he’s been linked to some of the most beautiful women in the world throughout his life.
I know it’s been rumored he’ll never settle down again after getting his heart broken by said ex-wife, who very publicly cheated on him.
And there’s no way I’ll admit any of that knowledge to him, even if hot needles were to be poked under my fingernails. I’ll endure medieval torture before I ever admit how closely I’ve followed his life and career until now.
Time to change the subject.
“Look,” I tell him, “we both know you’re not going to offer me the position. So let’s just get out of here so I can go back to work and you can go back to yelling at innocent girls just trying to get an afternoon swim in. Or whatever it is you like to do in your free time.”
“You? Innocent?” He snorts. “You make a pit viper look like a shrinking violet.”
“Vipers only attack when they’re cornered. If you mind your own business, they’re content to keep to themselves. Just like me.” I rise from my chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Sit down, Sadie.”
He doesn’t bark it at me. If he had, I would have walked away from him, no problem.
No, instead he says it softly. A murmur. A rasp of velvet. It’s the voice that’s made him a millionaire many times over, a global superstar.
And I don’t know whether it’s an actual superpower he has, or whether I’ve been listening to his music so long I’m basically conditioned to obey, but I find myself sitting right back down in that chair.
He leans forward. A lock of dark hair falls in front of his green eyes as they bore into me. No cowboy hat this time. No shadows being cast over those high cheekbones. Just the full impact of that famous face, up close, in a small room with nowhere to look except directly at him.
“Now,” he says, “Here’s the interesting thing. People I trust and respect, like my father, for one, and Jane here for another, they speak very highly of you. They say you’re kind and patient and reliable. Those are the qualities I need in any woman who’s going to be spending time around my son.”
Then he adds, eyes sweeping up and down me, “Those are the same qualities I have yet to see for myself.”
Superstar, check.
Unrepentant asshole, double-check.
I open my mouth to tell him off, but then he does something that shocks me into total silence.
He puts his finger on my lips.
The pad of it is warm and calloused from ranch work and guitar strings both, and my brain just… stops. Every sharp thing I was about to say dissolves before it reaches my mouth.
“Hush,” he murmurs. His eyes drop to my lips, just for a second, as he's registering what he's touching.
I'm barely even breathing. The man is brazenly shushing me. And instead of biting off his finger like I absolutely should, I'm sitting here staring into his eyes like I've forgotten every word I've ever known.
His eyes are lighter up close than they look in photographs. Green shot through with gold at the center.
“So what I want to know is,” he continues, “who’s the real Sadie Sullivan? The sweet bookworm beloved by kids? Or the little hellion who swims half-naked in a freezing lake on my land and has the audacity to get mad at me about it?”
Now that he’s done talking, he takes his finger away from my lips.
They still tingle where he touched me. I press them together like I can make it stop. His eyes track the movement. Between those eyes and the exquisite instrument of his voice, I feel like I’ve been hypnotized.
“Both,” I manage to say. “They’re both the real me.”
He examines me carefully, that penetrating gaze leaving nowhere for me to hide.
“Here’s the deal,” he says softly. “I need a live-in nanny. Someone to handle basic meals for Jonah. Breakfast and packing up the lunch he takes to summer camp. Driving him to and from said camp. Spending afternoons with him until I get home. Ideally, getting him up to speed on reading. In the evenings and weekends, I’ll take over, and you’re off-duty. ”
“Why a live-in?” I ask, unable to restrain my curiosity. “Sounds like you could get away with a normal nine-to-five.”
“Sometimes we get emergencies in the middle of the night on the ranch. An animal goes into a difficult labor. Lightning strike sets off a brush fire. Wild Rose never sleeps. Not really. I need to be able to get up and go at three o’clock in the morning and know my boy is safe and sound in his bed.”
Despite my newfound dislike of him, at least this side of him is the same as his music implies. The cowboy living life tied to his land. The man who handles his business no matter what sacrifices he has to make.
At least this side of him seems genuine, the side that loves his son and is fiercely protective of him.
I can respect that.
I only wish I knew firsthand what it was like to have someone be fiercely protective of me.
All I ever longed for was someone dependable in my life.
Someone to see everything you're juggling and step in without you having to ask. Someone who makes you feel like you don’t have to carry the load alone.
I've read about men like that my whole life. Occupational hazard of loving books, I guess. You start believing in things that might only exist on the page.
Walker Rhodes is not the hero in those books. But the man sitting across from me right now, talking about getting up at three in the morning for his ranch and making sure his son is safe… he's not the villain, either.
Even if he sure looks like an outlaw.
“Can I trust you with my son?” he asks.
“Yes.” I say it without hesitation, because it’s true.