Tempted By the Nanny (Sycamore Falls #4)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

HAYDEN

The pancake flips out of the pan, hits the stovetop, and folds in on itself like a four-year-old attempting to do yoga.

Great. Just what I need today.

Jeremiah giggles from his high chair as if this is a performance designed specifically for his entertainment. Oatmeal is drying on the floor from his earlier launch attempt, a feat that would have earned NASA funding if it hadn’t landed on the cabinets.

Presley, my seven-year-old, sits at the table quietly sketching. The stack of pancakes in front of her is darker than intended. Not burnt, technically. More like aggressively toasted.

She hasn’t touched them.

She hasn’t touched much food lately.

And she hasn’t spoken a single word since the accident.

In a few weeks, it will be one year since our lives were forever altered.

I thought I’d have my shit together by now.

Instead, it still feels like I’m on a merry-go-round that spins faster and faster with every passing day.

Cora made this look so easy. She never burned Presley’s pancakes. Hell, she’d make her pancakes while holding Jemmy because he was teething.

The memory causes a lump to form in my throat, but I push it down, kneeling by the high chair, scrubbing oatmeal off the hardwood like a man who definitely has his life together.

I’m a doctor, for crying out loud. Prior to moving back home, I’d worked in one of the busiest emergency rooms in the country. I thrived on the chaos. Loved the challenge of never knowing what would roll through those doors. Gunshot wounds. Stabbings. Car wrecks.

I never expected my own family to come through those doors, too.

“Good morning!” the sound of Dylan’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

My sister blows into the kitchen like a caffeinated cartoon character, all smiles and energy. Jemmy immediately starts clapping. Presley actually cracks a smile.

It’s a tiny one, but I’ll take it.

“Dee Dee!” Jeremiah exclaims.

Dylan kisses the top of his head and ruffles his dark hair. Then she moves to Presley, wrapping her in a long hug.

I pretend I’m not watching too closely.

Pretend it doesn’t bother me that my sister seems to have a stronger connection to my daughter than I do.

Dylan picks up one of the pancakes on Presley’s plate and squints at it. “What the hell do you call this?”

“Breakfast,” I respond with a shrug, cleaning up the last of the oatmeal and discarding the paper towels in the trash.

She takes a bite, then makes a fake gagging sound. “You’re the only person I know who can screw up pancakes.”

“They’re not screwed up.”

“I wouldn’t serve these even to my worst enemy.” She pushes me out of the way and starts digging through my cabinets, pulling out ingredients like she lives here.

Which she basically does.

When I moved back from Chicago after losing Cora, Dylan and Mom became my village. Babysitters. Emotional support system. My kids’ favorite people.

My lifeline, if I’m being honest.

While my job at the family medical practice isn’t as demanding as working at a busy metropolitan hospital, I’m still floundering.

Still trying to figure out how to be everything my kids need now that their mom is gone.

Still scared I’m screwing everything up.

“Where’s Grace?” Dylan asks as she whisks together pancake batter from scratch. No box. No instructions.

I’m not surprised. She is the professional. It’s part of the reason I find myself in this predicament.

While my sister happily dropped everything to help me in the aftermath of Cora’s death, it’s been almost a year. She put her own dreams on hold for me. It’s time for her to finally pursue her dreams, even if it’s made things difficult for me.

“Didn’t work out,” I respond.

“That’s…what? Your fourth nanny in two months?” She pours batter onto the griddle with ease.

“Fifth,” I correct.

“And why did this one leave?” She smooths a tendril of blonde hair behind her ear.

I glance at Presley, who’s back to sketching, focused and far away.

“I see,” Dylan says without me having to explain.

Presley can be a lot.

Despite every single nanny I’ve hired having great qualifications, none have been all that understanding when it comes to Presley’s refusal to speak.

Granted, I also get frustrated at times, but there’s a reason for it. The last words she ever spoke were to her mother. Speaking would mean admitting she’s gone.

I still struggle with admitting it myself.

“Who’s watching them today?” Dylan asks.

“Abbey’s taking Jemmy. I’ll drop Presley at school first.”

Over the past year, my village has grown quite a bit, thanks to each of my brothers falling in love and settling down. Between Haley, Abbey, and Genevieve, as well as my mom and brothers, I’m usually able to find someone to watch them.

But I hate the instability.

I thought hiring a nanny would give them some sort of routine and might help Presley finally speak, as her therapist suggested.

But not a single nanny I’ve hired has been a good fit.

“What are your plans for hiring a replacement?” she asks as she heats up a fresh pot of oatmeal for Jemmy.

“I’m not sure. I can see if Jeannie or Robert have another recommendation.”

“Because their recommendations have worked so far,” she snorts, her disdain for my in-laws apparent.

They’re not bad people, but Dylan tends to blame them for why I left emergency medicine.

It was Robert’s dream that Cora would eventually return to Sycamore Falls and take over the medical practice that’s been in his family since this town was settled in the 1800s. Moving back here and taking her place was the least I could do, considering it’s my fault she’s gone.

I’m a doctor trained in emergency medicine. I’ve saved countless lives.

But when it really mattered, I couldn’t even save my own wife.

“Jeannie’s been a teacher in the school system here since I was a kid,” I remind her. “And Robert’s been running the medical practice for just as long. They know everyone. Plus, they’re the kids’ grandparents.”

Dylan opens the cupboard and grabs the bag of chocolate chips. I part my lips to tell her Presley doesn’t need chocolate chips on her pancakes, but at this point, I’ll agree to smother her breakfast with chocolate syrup and whipped cream if she’ll eat it.

“With horrible taste in childcare.” After carefully adding the chocolate chips to the pancake, she flips it, then gives the oatmeal a stir. “You don’t need someone who checks all the boxes on paper. You need someone who clicks with them. Someone like…” She trails off.

But I know what she was about to say.

“Someone like Cora,” I finish, my throat tightening around her name.

You’d think after a year it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“The nannies you’ve hired are the complete opposite of her. In fact, they’re like you.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you can be a bit…stiff. And boring.”

“I’m not boring.”

“You fold your boxer briefs. And your closet is color-coded.”

“It’s not that bad. And why were you going through my underwear drawer anyway?”

“Because I used to do your laundry.”

She turns off the burners, then places Presley’s pancake on a plate, making a face out of strawberries and blueberries. After cutting up a banana, she adds the slices along with some brown sugar to Jeremiah’s oatmeal before setting their fresh meals in front of them.

To my surprise, both kids start eating. Presley even helps Jeremiah so he doesn’t make as big of a mess as he usually does.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back and watch them?” I joke. “I’ll pay you this time.”

“You know I love you and them… But no.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, then inhales a sharp breath.

“What is it?” I look from her to my kids, worried something is wrong.

“I might know someone who can help. Someone infinitely better than the people you’ve been hiring.”

“Who?”

“Her name’s Rowan. She just started volunteering at the animal shelter. She mentioned she used to nanny and is between jobs right now.”

“I’m not just hiring some…stranger off the street to watch my kids. You’ve known this person, what? A few weeks?”

She shrugs. “She has good energy.”

“I’m not hiring a nanny based on good energy. I’ve known everyone I’ve hired. Or Robert or Jeannie did.”

“And how have your carefully vetted, well-connected nannies worked out so far?” she counters.

“I’m not letting a stranger watch my kids.”

“Remember what Presley’s therapist said. She needs stability. This past year has been anything but stable. This revolving door of caregivers isn’t doing you any favors. Or her.”

I push out a sigh, knowing she’s right. Presley does need some stability. We all do. But it’s not that easy.

“They’ve had a shit year, Hayden,” Dylan says, placing her hand on my arm. “They deserve someone a bit more fun than Grace Henderson, whose idea of a fun activity for Presley was math flashcards. And Rowan is definitely fun.”

“Math’s an important skill.”

“She’s seven. Do you want her to develop an intense hatred for math at such a young age? Because that’s what Grace was doing. And she never sat on the floor to play with Jemmy. None of them did. They were all older. They need someone fun. Young. Full of life.”

I steal a glance at my kids, both of them nearly finished with their breakfast.

No thanks to me.

Maybe Dylan is right. Maybe they need some fun in their lives. Because whatever I’ve been doing obviously hasn’t been working.

“Fine.” I shift my attention back to my sister. “Talk to her and see if she’s interested. But I need to meet her before you just offer her the job.”

She beams. “You’ll love her.”

“It doesn’t matter if I do.” I gesture toward my kids. “All that matters is if they do.”

“They will. I can feel it.”

“We’ll see about that.”