Chapter 10
Ten
DEAN
Getting Bella down takes five minutes. Maybe less.
She goes from upright to out-cold in record time for my nap-resistant kiddo. She’s not as bad as Ava, but she’s close, and I have a feeling naptime will soon be a thing of the past, no matter how much the pediatrician insists a nap is still necessary to meet her sleep needs.
Though, I could be wrong about that, I guess. Maybe big play mornings with Clover are all it will take to have Bella back on her nap schedule like clockwork.
She’s certainly dead to the world right now…
Still, I linger outside her door after I close it, pretending I’m listening to make sure she’s staying down. But I know she is. The kid’s out like someone pulled her plug.
I’m not listening, I’m stalling.
I’m stalling so hard that I consider heading down the hall to make sure Ava’s set up for storybook time, but that would be ridiculous.
If Ava’s pink bunny headphones weren’t already delivering “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” directly into her ears while she lounges in her pillow-filled canvas teepee, I would know about it.
Ava isn’t shy about making sure her rest time needs are known and met. And she usually remembers to plug the headphones in to charge herself when she’s done using them. Four years old, and she’s already more organized than I was in college.
I don’t know whether to be proud or…depressed.
She shouldn’t have to remember to plug in her own headphones.
But after I forgot for the fifth time, she stopped complaining about my failure and took matters into her own hands.
When I’m being “gentle with myself,” the way the girls’ therapist encourages, I understand that I had a lot on my plate those first few weeks after their mother died.
When I’m frustrated with my own learning curve, I wonder how a man with such poor multitasking skills ever managed to become one of the top players in the NHL.
But as far as skill sets go, I guess hockey and homemaking don’t have a ton of crossover.
I do know how to be part of a team, though. I know the value of teamwork and the foolishness of thinking you can get the win on your own. That’s why I decided to hire a nanny.
I need help. Good help. Special help, and I honestly couldn’t have asked for a more perfect caregiver than a bright, bighearted woman who knows what’s it’s like to lose a parent at a young age. If only that bighearted woman wasn’t also the woman I stripped half-naked in my truck.
The woman I swore I would steer clear of from here on out…
There are so many reasons to steer clear. Clover is my captain and good friend’s surrogate little sister. She’s young—too young for a man staring down thirty-six. And now, she’s my nanny.
Fuck.
I can’t let her keep being my nanny. Can I?
It’s too weird, too uncomfortable. It feels wrong in ways I can easily lay out and other, more subtle ways that I can’t. Becoming the employer of someone you recently had a romantic relationship with is sketchy, even if that “romantic” relationship lasted all of three hours.
I know that. Clover likely knows that, too. That’s why she sent that preemptive text. If I don’t fire her, some part of her will likely assume I’m a creep.
But if do fire her, she’ll also assume I’m a creep. She clearly needs this job. And, if her text is to be believed, she also wants this job. She feels called to be here for my girls, like some divine hand intervened to ensure she was the one here instead of someone else.
But I don’t believe in Fate.
If Fate were real, my ex-wife would still be alive. Frederica didn’t deserve to die, and my girls certainly don’t deserve to learn about this kind of pain so young. Or to live the rest of their lives without their mother.
Though, to be fair, I don’t think anyone ever said Fate was kind. Or just. I seem to remember Carl Sagan saying something about Fate—and the universe—being completely indifferent to human desires, in fact.
Wishing I’d paid closer attention in Introduction to Astronomy, I head downstairs.
I should just stick to the plan I worked out on the way home.
It’s a solid plan, a fair plan. This was all a misunderstanding, after all, not anyone’s fault, not even the agency’s. I’ll just pay Clover for a full week, give her a glowing reference, and explain to Tasha that the reason I need another nanny ASAP has nothing to do with Clover’s abilities.
It’s all me.
Me, and the fact that I still can’t look at the woman without wanting to kiss her.
Hard.
Up against the door or the wall or those cabinets she’s currently wiping down…
As I step into the kitchen, I do my best not to let my gaze drift to the round curve of her ass in her jeans. Instead, I force my gaze to the now clean kitchen table, remembering how happy the girls looked when I walked in. How relaxed and at ease. How normal.
God, all I want for them is “normal.”
But is it “normal” for me to hire a woman I can’t stop having filthy dreams about to be their nanny? I would obviously do everything in my power not to cross any lines, but vibes are vibes.
And there are vibes here. Serious ones.
They sizzle through the air as Clover turns, her eyes widening as they meet mine. “Hey. The girls down?”
“Yeah. They are.” Ignoring the wave of awareness flooding through my chest, attempting to spread to lower, more forbidden places, I add, “So…I got your text.”
She nods, setting the dish towel beside the sink before crossing her arms. “Okay. Good.” Her shoulders inch higher as she shifts from her good leg to her bad one, then back again with a slight wince. “So, what do you think?”
I motion toward the table. “Let’s sit down. You’re probably worn out after running around after the girls all morning.”
Her jaw tightens as she smiles. “I wasn’t running after them.
Obviously.” She casts a pointed look down before meeting my gaze again.
“But I didn’t have any problems keeping up with them or taking care of them, if that’s what you’re asking.
I promise, I didn’t. If I had, I would tell you.
I would never want my injury to put a child at risk, not even for a second.
But I feel confident that I can care for the girls, I really do.
Now, if they were a little younger or not so well-behaved, maybe I would have concerns, but I—”
“No, please,” I cut in. “I’m not worried about that.”
She arches a brow.
“I’m really not,” I assure her. “I trust you. I believe you’d tell me if you didn’t think you could physically handle the job.”
She hesitates a beat, searching my face before she nods, her expression softening. “Thanks. I appreciate that. And I promise, if you decide to keep me on, I won’t make you regret it.”
I pull in a breath, letting it out slow as I motion toward the table again. “Please, sit. I’ll put on another pot of coffee, and we can talk this through over caffeine.”
She laughs and jabs a thumb toward the coffeepot. “Already going. Should be ready in a few minutes. Great minds think alike, I guess.”
“Oh. Good. I…didn’t notice.” I say, sliding into the closest chair as I think about “great minds.”
I wouldn’t call myself a “great mind.” I made good grades in school, and do my best to engage my critical thinking skills—especially with anything I see on the internet—but I’m not the kind who goes looking for thought problems to wrestle to the ground.
I’m not like Nix with his philosophical fixations or Blue with his need to get to the bottom of the spiritual mysteries of the world.
I’m just a man who wants to live a good life and avoid trouble as often as I can.
But Trouble has had its eye on me lately, a fact proven by the presence of the woman settling into a chair across from mine…
It’s forcing me to think harder, deeper, and I honestly can’t say I’m a fan.
“Thinking is less painful with caffeine,” I confess, summoning a real smile to Clover’s face.
“Amen,” she says. “Especially when you’ve been up since the ass crack of dawn.” She bites her lip, making me uncomfortably aware of her mouth for a moment before she adds, “I obviously didn’t cuss in front of the girls, and I don’t plan to start.”
I huff and drag a hand through my hair. “Well, you’re a better person than I am then.
I let things slip more than I should. Always have.
Frederica, my ex, used to ride me about it.
But at first, when the girls were babies, I couldn’t see that it mattered.
They couldn’t understand what I was saying anyway.
Then, by the time I realized that Ava was soaking up everything I said like a sponge who thought the word ‘shit’ was hysterical, it was too late.
But I’m working on it. I am. I don’t want the girls saying something that will get them in trouble at school. ”
She nods. “I wouldn’t worry about it. They were both so sweet today. Not an unkind word from either one. They really are such good little people, Dean. You’re doing a great job with them.”
My shoulders tighten. “Thanks, but I can’t take credit for that. I mean, I do my best, obviously, but their mom was the one with them most of the time. Before. Frederica was an amazing mother, right from the start.”
Clover’s brow furrows. “I’m sorry you lost her. It’s so hard. For all of you. I’ve never been married, but I can’t imagine it’s easy to lose someone you loved that much. Even if you weren’t together anymore.”
“Thanks,” I say, my throat tight. “No, it hasn’t been easy, but…” I pull in a breath, willing myself to lighten the tone.
We aren’t here to wade into the emotional deep end.
We’re here to decide how best to go our separate ways.
Or…not? Maybe it’s crazy, but the longer I sit here, the more firing Clover seems like the wrong call.
She really does seem to have bonded with the girls, and they with her, almost instantly.
Who knows if we’d get that lucky with another nanny?