The Dragon’s Accidental Manny (Paranormal Au Pair Agency #2)

Cam

ONE

The logo hadn't been the problem. It was excellent, and that was the problem.

I sat in the reception area of the Feeney Au Pair Agency and thought about how I got here. Not arrived at the office ‘cause I’d driven my car, the same one that had very little gas in the tank.

Nope. How did I arrive at needing a job where I didn’t pay rent and received a salary to look after someone else’s children? Because the area where I lived was so expensive and even a shared apartment took up most of my paycheck and required a large deposit up front.

I pictured the agency online form I’d completed.

Age: 31

Occupation: Graphic designer. Or I was until I’d been unfairly dismissed.

Address: I’d used a friend’s for the month I’d been sleeping in my car.

And now I was sitting in a plush waiting room about to interview for a manny position.

I tugged at my collar and glanced down at the creases in my shirt. I’d ironed it on the back seat of my current home, i.e. in the car, with a travel steamer I’d purchased at a gas station.

Trying to smooth out the creases didn’t work, so I distracted myself by glancing around the reception area. It had a high ceiling which made it feel more spacious than it was and the fresh flowers, rather than artificial, were a nice touch. The message it sent was discreet and high-quality.

But the logo? Oh no, that was where they’d let themselves down. It was an uninspiring serif. Instead of making a statement, it was a yawn. I told myself to leave it alone, as I’d been fired for doing that exact thing.

But that lasted sixty seconds, and grabbing my phone and laptop, I went outside and sat on the steps. Within a few minutes, I’d redesigned the au pair agency’s logo. It was cleaner, bolder, and more distinctive without being flashy.

I stood up and held up my laptop beside the logo on the wall, comparing my new one with the current version. “Much better.”

“Really?”

Damn. It was deja vu, and I cringed, expecting a tongue lashing. This time I’d designed my way out of a prospective position.

“Cam, I assume.”

I didn’t want to look because Meara Feeney had a reputation of being fierce. Scrunching my eyes closed, I counted to five and glanced up. Hmmm, her gaze wasn’t intense so much as… amused? I had to be wrong, though.

She looked me up and down, and I hoped she couldn’t smell motor oil on me because the scent had seeped into my car’s upholstery.

Meara motioned for me to sit on the top step and she did the same. It was a refreshingly different way of conducting an interview, but it was easier to tell me never to darken her door again when I was outside said door. She was one smart woman.

“Your portfolio is impressive.” She rattled off the details of my eight years working in an advertising agency as a graphic designer. “Why are you here, Cam?”

This had to be a trap, but it was too late to pretend she’d won a new logo design in a competition. I’d rehearsed three different answers to this question as I sat in my traveling home in the parking lot, but her piercing gaze changed my mind and I gave her the truth.

“I was let go.” I tried to keep the regret and disappointment out of my voice. “Which was an unfair dismissal.” This was harder than I imagined. “So I need income and somewhere to live, and I’ve worked with children, so a live-in manny position seems ideal.”

Meara didn’t react but asked what happened.

This was where it got weird, and I gripped my laptop hard, wishing it would magic me away somewhere. But the only way forward was to look directly at Meara and not cower because I wasn’t ashamed of my work.

“It was to do with the company logo.”

Meara eyed her own logo on the wall, but I powered on.

“The company’s one was so outdated and had the wrong weight and kerning. The color pallet hadn’t been updated since 2003. 2003!”

I took a breath. Maybe that repetition was a little too much because my voice had risen a couple of decibels. Meara had to be in her forties, so she might not be impressed with me pointing out how long ago that was.

“I redesigned the logo in my own time and sent it to a colleague for a laugh.” I explained that I’d accidentally sent it to the whole company, including the CEO. “He made the original logo in 2003.” I lowered my voice as though my former boss could hear me. “Mine was much better than his.”

Meara almost lost her composure. She seemed to be struggling with a smile but kept it together.

“And you were dismissed for that.”

“Yes, for unprofessional conduct.” I maintained it was more a difference of opinion, but I wasn’t the one doing the firing.

“Tell me about your experience working with children.”

I rambled on about doing summer camp during my college years. “I’m good with kids.” Children were so direct, which I appreciated because I was similar. I said what I thought before my brain could stop me.

“We’ve successfully placed similar applicants in various positions, so I’d like you to speak with one for them before I assign you a family.”

Oh, wow. A second interview with another manny. And what did she mean by similar applicants? Was that people who didn’t have a manny diploma from a reputable college? Or applicants who’d embarrassed their boss?

She scribbled something on a card and handed it to me. “Speak to Ledger and get a feel for what the role involves.”

Hmmm, shouldn’t Meara be doing that? It was a little odd to be handing over part of the interview process to a working manny, but I studied the name, road, and house number on the note.

“It’s a private road, but your sat nav will guide you.”

I was about to say the car was so old it didn’t have sat nav, but I could use my phone. Did I have enough gas in the tank? I might have to run the last few miles.

We said our goodbyes, but as I strode toward my car, Meara called out.

“Send me that logo and your invoice.”

I swung around, but she’d already gone inside.

The indicator was almost on empty when I reached the road where Ledger lived.

The residences here weren’t just houses but huge estates.

My phone got me here, but one estate gate looked like the next, and it couldn’t tell me which was which.

I drove up and down a couple of times squinting at numbers.

Damn, I couldn’t follow simple instructions, so how could parents trust me with their kids?

Oh no, was that a one or a seven Meara had written?

Placing the note on my lap, I tried to iron out the wrinkles, but I was no more successful than I had been with the shirt.

I always put a strikethrough on a seven to differentiate it from a one.

Shoot. I’d been looking for 221, but it was 227.

At least I thought it was, but it didn’t seem like the Meara I’d met would have messy handwriting.

A large gate appeared with the number 227 beside it. Yikes, it was imposing, but this wasn’t the family I’d be interviewing with but rather the manny. So no need for nervous level 10, maybe a 5 instead.

I pressed the intercom and waited, and when someone answered, it was a child. “Hello.”

“Hi. The au pair agency sent me to talk about the manny—”

“Okay.” The gate opened.

As I drove through the entrance, the car stuttered and ran out of gas.

At least it got me here, I’d worry about how to leave later.

I gazed at the house which was a sprawling bungalow surrounded by neat lawns and towering trees along the fence.

There was a court but not for tennis. Maybe pickleball.

My shirt was well and truly creased when I got out. If I impressed Ledger, it had to be with my charm and not my ironing skills.

The door opened as I approached and a small boy of about four stood in the doorway wearing a pair of well-worn plastic wings.

He looked me up and down and grinned. “I let you in.”

I nodded and wondered if he’d been supposed to do that. “You did. Thank you. I’m Cam.”

“Jack.”

“I came to see Ledger.” But Jack walked back into the house leaving the door open, so I followed him.

The heat hit me, and I glanced around thinking there was a fire burning, but the fireplace was bare. The weather was pretty mild, but they must have had the thermostat cranked up. Sweat trickled down my spine, and I wished I had tissues to wipe my brow.

As Jack rounded a corner, two girls came out of a room. The older one had her arms folded and she was staring. I suspected she wouldn’t have let me in without an interrogation.

The younger one asked if I played pickleball.

“I haven’t but a lot of my friends do.”

“That’s Isla,” Jack told me.

The older one said her name was Bea, and after more staring, she explained she’d show me around. Hmmm, I was under the impression Ledger would be giving me the pros and cons of working for a wealthy family and looking after their children.

But I’d been tossed in the deep end and Ledger’s charges were doing the interviewing.

Sneaky, but I had to give Meara ten points.

I looked at the ceilings, on top of the armoire, and ran my gaze over the photos on the wall, searching for hidden cameras.

There was a teddy on the floor, so maybe the manny-cam was in there.

Nothing got my attention, but that was the point.

“You’ll like it here.” Jack took my hand. “We’re nice.”