"How old are you?" I ask, my eyes glancing suspiciously at her hand still extended toward me.
"Twenty-three," she says. "Didn't Delaney tell you about me? You knew I was coming today, right?"
"Um...yeah, she did. I guess I didn't hear her mention your age," I mutter.
Kate takes a small step forward and pushes her hand farther toward me, giving me a pointed look. "It's nice to meet you."
Her voice is soft, with a moderate southern twang. I can't remember if Delaney told me where she was from or not. Fuck...I can't remember anything she said.
I reach out hesitantly and shake her hand. It's tiny and her bones feel small, but she grips me surely. "Yeah...uh, nice to meet you too," I say absently.
Our hands break apart and we just stare at each other.
Her eyes are intent on me, yet filled with a sort of curiosity. I wonder what in the hell she could be curious about. I'm sure Delaney filled her in on my situation and what I needed her for.
Damn, this girl--well, fuck, woman--is just...weird. She's sort of geeky-looking yet doesn't have any shyness or awkwardness that is normally associated with geekdom. She looks like she'd rather be sitting in some computer science lab with tape on the bridge of her glasses and a pocket protector, discussing quantum physics or something equally boring. What in the hell was Delaney thinking? I guess I was sort of expecting maybe a more matronly type of person who would wear an apron and bake sugar cookies every day.
"Are you okay?" she asks, and I blink at her, my mind absolutely blank as to what she could mean.
"Yeah, why?" I ask, confused.
"Well, you're just sort of staring at me like I've got antlers sticking out of my head or something. I know I'm not much to look at, but I promise...I'm the right person for this job."
And clearly she's the type of person who will say whatever is on her mind, which makes me feel even more awkward. I've been so removed from people in general--and those that I do interact with treat me with kid gloves--that I'm not sure how to handle someone as direct as her.
"Um...why don't you come in," I tell her suddenly. "I need to make a quick call and then we can talk."
"Sure," she says with a bright smile, and it irritates me how chipper she is. I step back, allowing her to walk into the foyer, shutting the door behind her.
She looks around with interest. "You have a beautiful home."
I don't respond because this house doesn't hold a single ounce of beauty for me. Instead, I point to right where she's standing and say, "Wait here. I'll be right back."
Turning away from her, I bound up the stairs to the right of the entryway. I stride past Ben's bedroom and see he's immersed in a game on his iPad. Good...I don't want him coming downstairs yet, because I'm not sure what in the hell to do with that girl down there.
Stalking into my office, which is basically one of the spare bedrooms, I close the door and whip my phone out of my pocket. I pull Delaney's number up and stab at it urgently.
She answers curtly. "I'm heading into a meeting. Make it quick."
"What the fuck, Delaney? I think you made a terrible mistake hiring this girl."
She sighs into the phone, but her voice is firm. "She's a woman."
"Whatever. She's weird."
"She's adorable," she says with affection.
"Adorable isn't a fucking qualification to be a nanny," I hiss at her, my eyes cutting to the door to make sure I did indeed close it behind me. And adorable? Where is she getting that from?
Delaney's voice is filled with condescension when she says, "What's her last name?"
"Huh?" I ask stupidly.
"What is Kate's last name?" she asks, enunciating each word carefully.
"Fuck if I know," I growl at her, my mind going blank. I knew what it was two minutes ago, but it's not coming to me now.
"And what's her educational background?"
I'm silent, racking my brain for the information.
"And her work history?" she asks.
Again, silence from me.
"Oh, and how about her references...what did they have to say about her?"
"I don't fucking know, okay?" I curse with frustration.
"Exactly," she says firmly. "You didn't listen to a damn thing I said about her the other day. So now you are just going to have to trust that I made the right decision for you. She is absolutely perfect for this job, and besides that...Ben liked her far better than the other applicants. She was amazing with him."
"She's weird," I say lamely...futilely, I know.
"Get over it," she sneers at me. "You're out of time and you need someone immediately, since you start practice next week. I've been on your ass for weeks to get involved with this decision and you ignored me at every turn. So tough shit...she's got the job and you're going to give her a chance, you hear me?"
Damn...Sometimes I really can't stand my older sister. I have the sudden urge to stick my tongue out at her over the phone, but deep down...I know she's right. I've been checked out mentally since the accident and depended on her way too much to handle this shit. Now I'm stuck with it.
"Fine," I grumble at her as I rub my fingers hard along my jaw. I had just decided to shave my beard off this morning and my face feels so...so...naked.
"Good," she says, completely happy with herself. "Now, I've got to go. I love you."
"Back at ya," I mutter, and then hang up on her, knowing she's wearing a self-satisfied grin on her face.
Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I exit my office and make my way back downstairs. When I reach the first floor, Kate is nowhere to be found.
For a split moment, relief swells through me as I'm thinking she got the message that I wasn't comfortable with her and she left. But then I hear movement in the kitchen and I head toward the noise with dread.
When I round the corner, I find her standing at the griddle, casually flipping bacon, and with two new pancakes poured and sizzling to the side. Her head turns slightly to look at me and she pins me with a direct stare. "Thought I'd finish your breakfast for you. You look like a six-pancake type of guy. After I finish yours, I'll do a Mickey Mouse pancake for Ben."
My mouth sort of hangs open as I watch her nonchalantly cooking in my kitchen. She's been in my house for all of five minutes at most, and she's fucking cooking breakfast in my kitchen.
In Gina's kitchen, rather. This was never my domain, as evidenced by the burn on my arm.
Anger wells inside me and I have the sudden and insane urge to pull her away from the task. I want to yell at her that this was Gina's role, not hers, and it's completely unfair that she's standing in that position right now.
Instead, I hear the thumping of little feet as Ben comes bounding down the second staircase that leads from the other side of the second floor down into the kitchen.
"Is breakfast ready, Dad?" he asks as he rounds the island counter. His eyes are on me, but then he notices Kate. She turns to give him a smile and says, "Hey, buddy. Remember me?"
Ben's eyes flare wide with recognition, and then he utterly flays my heart open when his lips pull back into a massive and deliriously happy grin.
"Kate," he practically screams, and launches himself at her. His face presses into the side of her thigh and his little arms wrap tight around her legs. "Aunt Delaney said you'd be back."
She immediately picks him up and steps three feet away from the hot griddle, efficiently reaching back to flip it off. "Whoa, little man. Can't have you acting all crazy like that around the hot plate," she scolds gently, then tickles his belly.
I stare stupidly at the two of them, completely taken with each other. She's obviously a fucking natural with kids, clearly diligent in looking out for their safety, and calmly able to multitask. It reminds me so much of Gina and the calm surety with which she was just able to handle everything, a longing pain hits me deep in my chest.
And it makes me fucking hate her as she impinges on my memories of Gina.
I take a deep breath, b
ecause my need to tear my son out of her arms and fling her out the door is starting to overwhelm me. She stands there laughing with Ben as he puts his little hands on her shoulders and babbles about a remote-control car I bought him a few days ago. He is absolutely and completely at ease with her, which is something I haven't seen from him since Gina died. He's okay around me and Delaney, as well as our neighbor Michelle, who was good friends with Gina. Michelle has a four-year-old son, Beau, so she, Gina, Ben, and Beau would spend a lot of time with one another. But since Gina died, he's been leery of strangers and it takes a while for him to warm up to them.
Not so with this girl, though.
He seems to fucking love her already.
Defeat settles in and I know she's here to stay. I tamp down my bitterness, push my anger aside, and take one more deep breath. For Ben's sake, I'm going to give this a shot. For Ben's sake, I'm going to tolerate Kate.
At least for now.
Chapter 2
Kate
My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest as I stand at the sink and wash the griddle clean. It's actually kind of a pleasure to clean up in a kitchen like this. I've never been in a home this nice, and it's hard not to stare around in wonder at all the shiny. His kitchen is ubermodern, with sleek blond-oak cabinets and stainless-steel handles. The counters are done in black granite with flecks of gray throughout and the sink is a massive single bin made of some type of stone.
Zack sits at the table on the opposite side of the L-shaped kitchen counter with Ben as they eat their breakfast. His eyes remain pinned on me, a mixture of anger and confusion.
He clearly doesn't like me and I have no clue why. I expect him at any moment to just fire me. I can see it in his eyes...That's what he wants.
There was a moment when Ben hurtled his little body at me that I cut a glance at Zack, and I saw fury wash over him. It scared me so bad, I almost ran out of the house right then. But I didn't because I really, really, really need this job. Without it, I'm just one bus ticket away from being forced to return home to live with Daddy in our dingy tin can of a trailer in the backwoods of eastern North Carolina. And I promised myself when I left home five years ago, as much as I adore my daddy, I would never let that happen.
So I pulled on all of my available confidence that I've built up over the years along with my sheer will to survive and promptly ignored Zack and his dirty looks and started to clean his kitchen. He didn't say a word, just watched me as I worked and sometimes would make conversation with Ben.
I'm just wiping down the counters when Zack picks up the empty plates and walks over to put them in the dishwasher. When he's finished, he turns to Ben and says, "Why don't you go upstairs and play in your room a bit? I need to talk to Kate about a few things."
"Can I watch TV?" Ben asks.
"Sure," Zack says, and Ben jets from the table and pounds his way upstairs.
I rinse out the dishcloth in my hand, wring it, and then fold it over the faucet. Turning to Zack, I find him leaning a hip against the counter with his arms crossed defensively over his chest. His gaze is frosty when he says, "What exactly did Delaney tell you the job would consist of?"
Man, he intimidates the hell out of me. He towers over me, and even though he has the face of an angel with dark brown hair and whiskey-colored eyes perfectly supported by a strong jaw, so much animosity is radiating off him that I think he may be the devil.
I know all about Zack Grantham. That's because I love sports. All kinds of sports, but in particular, Cold Fury hockey. When North Carolina got its first professional ice hockey team, I had just started sixth grade. But I remember sitting on the ratty green corduroy-covered couch in our trailer, and Daddy and I rooting for the Cold Fury. Of course, often he'd be drunk and passed out by the third period, but at least for two periods we'd have a good time bonding over our mutual love of the sport.
I've followed the team closely ever since. Of course, I've never been to a live game, that being an absolute luxury I could have never afforded, but because every game is broadcast locally, I rarely miss one unless I'm studying for an important test or something. And because I follow the team so well, I know exactly who Zack Grantham is.
He's an amazing player and, truth be told, if I could afford a jersey, I'd probably get one with his name on it. Or maybe Alex Crossman's. Or even Garrett Samuelson's. About four months ago, Zack was in a terrible car accident that killed Ben's mom, Gina, and caused him to be kept out of the first half of the season with a fractured wrist. That has apparently healed enough that he's ready to return to the team, and thus the need for a nanny for Ben.
I was utterly stunned when I got a call from his sister, Delaney, for an interview. I had posted my resume and qualifications on a website for nanny services, knowing it would be a long shot because most of my experience came from helping my sister, Kelly, with her three kids, and other various babysitting jobs. But at this point, I needed work, so I was applying to every place I could think of.
"Now you seem to have nothing to say," Zack growls, and my body jerks over the derision in his voice.
"Sorry," I mutter. "Um...Delaney said you needed a live-in nanny for Ben. That the position would be full-time until he started school in the fall, and then part-time after that. She said I'd be responsible for his care when you weren't here and that I'd have to do basic household chores and stuff."
Zack nods at me, unfurls his arms from across his chest, and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Delaney thinks you're right for this job. I'm going to have to trust her on that."
"I am," I tell him earnestly. "I'll take very good care of Ben."
"You'd better," he growls at me so menacingly, I take an involuntary step backward. "If you harm one hair on my child's head, I will make you regret it. Do you understand?"
The scared country girl inside me wants to curl into the fetal position and just shrink away from the threat in his voice. But I'm not that young girl anymore. I've pulled myself out of crappy circumstances and made a new life for myself. I've worked hard over the years to build up my self-esteem, and I'm not about to let this man tear it down.
Squaring my shoulders at him, I give him a stern look. "I appreciate your protectiveness of Ben, and I'd feel the same way about my own child. I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about. But I have to insist that you treat me with some type of respect for the position I hold. At the very least, you don't want to teach your son it's okay to threaten and intimidate women, do you?"
Zack stares at me, his amber-colored eyes turning almost a dark brown. He blinks a few times and shakes his head. "Are you always this blunt?"
"I'm always this honest," I clarify for him.
He stares at me for a moment more, and finally I see acceptance settle in. "Understood. Do you need help bringing your things in? I'll show you the room you'll be staying in."
"Um...I don't have them, as I had to take the bus here. I thought if it's okay with you, I'll move in tomorrow. I have a friend who can give me a ride."
"You don't have a car?" he asks curiously.
"Nope. Can't afford one. It's the bus for me."
"You do realize you'll have to take Ben places, and I most certainly don't want him on the bus," he says grimly.
"Delaney says you have two cars and that I could borrow one if you needed me to run errands or take Ben somewhere," I tell him, and by the look on his face, I can tell this is news to him. "But there's nothing wrong with riding the bus," I add.
Zack looks like he wants to argue that point with me, but instead he says, "We'll go get your stuff right now. I actually have an appointment tomorrow morning and I'll need you to watch Ben, so I'd rather you get settled in today."
"Okay," I tell him. "Would you like me to go get Ben ready?"
"No," he says curtly. "I'll do it. You can just wait by the garage door through there."
I turn to see he's pointing at a door off the kitchen that leads into a laundry room with another door that I assume leads out
to the garage. I turn back to nod at him, but he's already gone.
--
"This is where you live?" Zack asks with surprise when I direct him into the driveway of my friend Mark's house. "I thought Delaney said you were a student. I assumed you lived in a dorm or something."
"I just graduated at the end of the winter semester a few weeks ago, and that unfortunately means they kick you out of the dorms," I tell him as he pulls his black Range Rover to a stop. "I've been crashing on a friend's couch since then."
Zack's head swivels to the side to look at me. "You said you were twenty-three. Aren't you a little old to just be graduating?"
I shrug, snag my backpack from the floorboard, and grab the door handle. "I couldn't afford to go straight through. Had to take a few semesters off to work and save up money for tuition."
"Didn't Delaney tell me you're going back to school in the fall?" he asks hesitantly, almost as if he doesn't trust the accuracy of that recollection.
Turning back to him, I say, "Yeah. To start my master's degree. With this job and you providing room and board, I should be able to save up enough for the first semester. I'll probably have to take the second semester off, find additional work to save up more money. Long process and all that."
Zack gives a slight nod, starts to turn away, and then looks back again. "What did you graduate with?"
"Well, technically I haven't graduated graduated," I tell him with a smile and an effective use of air quotes with my fingers. "The ceremony's next week, but then I'll be the proud owner of a degree in child psychology."
Something filters into Zack's eyes...maybe it's a little bit of respect, or maybe it's just the sudden realization that I'm not some weird loony he's just agreed to hire as a nanny. I turn away again to open the car door and he says, "What day is your ceremony? We need to make sure Ben's covered, and I can get my neighbor to watch him if necessary."
I don't bother to respond immediately and finally get the door open, because at the rate he keeps asking questions, I may not make it into Mark's house this century. As I step out, I turn back and lean in to look at him. "I'm not going to the ceremony, so no worries. I'll be back in a second. It's just a suitcase and a couple of boxes, so it will take me a few trips. Just hang tight."
I straighten up and close the door before he can stall me further, then turn to trot up the broken sidewalk littered with weeds browned by the winter cold. Mark's at work, and his roommate, Dave, is probably still sleeping. He's a musician and stays up until the wee hours of the morning.