Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Wow,” Henley bites back, her smile not heralding the sternness of her expression. “Sexist and age discriminating.” She doesn’t give me a chance to respond. Her dressing down commences immediately. “The Age Discrimination in Employment Act of 1967 protects employees under forty”—my mouth gapes—“which I assume you’re begrudgingly approaching even while hoping it will excuse your poor attitude”—she smiles at my narrowed glare before poking me in the chest—“from being discriminated against based on age. You have been through every nanny the agency has on file. I don’t take crap from no one, so Nancy said we’d be the perfect fit.” She flutters her lashes.
Although her sassy attitude dampens my worry that she can give as good as she gets, it won’t stop me from saying, “Nancy is way off the mark.”
I stop pulling my cell phone out of my pocket when Henley announces, “And saved from your unjust tirade by a blissfully long weekend.”
I cuss again when my eyes drink in the time on my phone screen. The agency closes at 5 p.m. It is five fifteen on the Friday of a holiday weekend.
“With that sorted, how about a re-introduction?” After waving her fingers at Lucy, who’s watching our exchange curiously from the passenger seat of my truck, Henley holds out the same hand in offering. “Henley Seabourn, your new nanny.”
This time, I accept her offer. “Brodie Davis, the father offering to comp you a hotel room for the weekend.”
2
HENLEY
Good lord, it should be illegal for arrogant men to be so attractive. I’d never considered how Jax Teller would look in a pristine black suit until Brodie slipped out of the driver’s seat of his big beastly truck. The sight hurts my eyes and makes me wonder if I have a daddy complex.
Brodie looks ten years my senior, if not a little older. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes aren’t from smiling too often, and the V etched between his dirty-blond brows appears older than me, but age brings its own qualities to a man’s appeal.
Brodie’s frown wouldn’t look as attractive if worn by a younger face, nor would the slight sprinkling of gray hairs weaved throughout his manly bun. His age makes him as cultivated as the antique vase my grandmother never let me touch, and the “not allowed to touch” vibe beaming off him makes me want to bend the rules even more.
I’ve always dreamed of being a rule breaker.
My placement as Lucy’s nanny gives me the opportunity to achieve that.
I grin when the creak of a door being opened ends our intense stare-down. I had no intention of losing, but the tension was reaching its boiling point.
“Can I come out now, Daddy?”
Not waiting for him to answer, Lucy jumps down from a truck that should emasculate its owner’s mannish vibes but doesn’t, before she sprints down the sidewalk I paced for almost an hour while waiting for my new family to arrive.
“Hello.” She swivels on the spot as her teeth indent her plump bottom lip, and her big brown eyes scan my body as vigorously as her father’s had. “You’re pretty. I like your shirt. I have a shirt like that. We didn’t get it from the shop.” She cups her mouth with her hands like she’s about to whisper, but her voice still comes out loud. “I cut it with scissors. Don’t tell Ms. Mitchell. I’m not allowed to play with scissors.”
As Lucy continues her story, Brodie announces, “She babbles when excited.”
He sounds annoyed that his little bundle of joy is so welcoming. I love it. She demonstrates it’ll take a lot of wit to get her father to fall in line, and I’m just the girl for the job.
After bobbing down to Lucy’s level, I tuck a strand of her gorgeous yet wild hair behind her ear. “Scissors are okay on certain occasions, but what is one thing we should never do with them?”
Lucy’s eyes bulge before her mighty voice rumbles through my chest. “Run with them.”
“That’s right. We should never run with scissors.” I peer up at Brodie and grin. “But we’re not carrying scissors now, are we? We can run all we like. So how about you yank up the cuffs of your jeans that survived their hacking better than mine and show me the fastest route to my room.”
I don’t think Lucy’s eyes could pop any more. “You’re my new nanny?”
“Uh-huh.” My southern accent twangs my next five words. “Are you okay with that?”
Her squeal warms my heart. “Oh, yes, yes, yes!”
After looping our arms, she races us toward the front stairs of her home. Before I can trespass against the homeowner’s wishes, she seals my fate as her nanny by charging back for her father.
My heart melts into a gooey puddle when she throws herself in Brodie’s arms and smothers his hairy chin with kisses. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I love her already!”