Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Oooh-kay,” I drawl. I finish the braid, tie it off, and then tap Grace’s shoulder. When she looks back at me, I tell her earnestly, “All done. Your hair is beautiful—curled, in braids, or in any other style you want to wear it. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, even if they’re a friend, okay?”
Her teeth dent into her bottom lip where she’s chewing uncertainly, but she hears me. I just hope she hears me.
When she nods, I smile encouragingly and say, “Go check them out.”
Petting her braids, she runs out of the room, escaping the lecture I’m sure she feels like she got from both Cameron and me, but she calls back over her shoulder, “Thanks, Riley!”
We stare at the door where she disappeared, but like we’re on the same schedule—ha! Me, on a schedule—our eyes simultaneously find each other.
Quiet as a mouse, I whisper, “I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to Hannah. All super nice, I swear it. Sweet as can be.” To make sure he knows I’m being sarcastic as hell, I feign a few shadow boxing moves and snarl my lip in a very Elvis-like way.
He huffs, not exactly laughing at my ‘joke’ but not telling me I’m overreacting, either. “Me too. I don’t know where that’s coming from. They’ve been such good friends, so hopefully, it’s just a slip of the tongue.”
“Yeah, hope so,” I say, not agreeing but not wanting to push it.
It’s not that I’m assuming the worst of a child I’ve never met. But experience tells me that her comment was a calculated attack on one of Grace’s best features. It reeks of jealousy, but I’ll hold that opinion for now until I get a bit more information, which I’ll definitely be pumping Grace for during our after-school chats from now on.
“Thank you for trying to teach me how to braid, but I will never be able to do whatever you just did. I’ve tried, even watched YouTube videos, but I get tangled in knots every time.” He moves his fingers around a little, bumping them into one another to demonstrate how awful he is at braiding, and I can’t help but laugh. He lowers his voice like he’s confessing a crime. “One time, I got it so twisted at the bottom that we had to cut the knot out. I think it traumatized me more than Grace, but I don’t want to do that again. Ever.”
I’m not surprised he can’t braid, but I am surprised he admitted there’s something he’s not good at. As a rule, men like Cameron don’t go around highlighting their weaknesses. But he’s exposing one to me without hesitation.
“Alright, I’ll make it a mission to teach Grace, then, so she can do it on her own after I’m gone.”
It slips out, the reminder that this is a temporary gig, and it sits heavily in the air between us.
“I’m not interviewing other nannies,” Cameron blurts out, and I get the sense he didn’t mean to tell me that. Like he’s got words flying off his tongue too, which is an interesting development for the ‘think first, speak later, or maybe never’ man.
“Well, I’m not looking for other jobs. Or possible vacations,” I reply, because a share deserves a share.
A smile slowly steals across Cameron’s lips, and it’s downright dazzling. I think the one on my face matches it.
“Want some tea? Ooh, with the new honey?” I ask, stepping past him to go to the kitchen. And when I glance back for his answer, I find him openly staring at my ass.
Before he catches me catching him, I whip my head around. The grin on my face now is entirely different. And much more daring.
Because I just realized that Cameron Harrington isn’t immune to my charms. Not the literal ones on my bracelets—still pretty sure he hates those—nor my physical ones. And maybe not my personality ones either since he’s not looking to throw me out the front door for getting overly involved with Grace.
At the cabinet, I stretch up on my tippy toes to grab my favorite mugs from the second shelf and unexpectedly feel him come up behind me. “Here, let me,” he says, his long arm reaching over my shoulder.
I drop to my feet, my back grazing against the hard planes of his chest and my ass skimming over the bulge in his slacks. He’s not erect, but there’s no denying that he’s large, even in a soft state.
A familiar wave of heat rushes through me as my core clenches, reminding me that it’s been a long time. A very long time.
He sets the mugs on the counter, and then his hands find the edge of the white stone, gripping it tightly as I’m surrounded by the cage of his arms. My breath catches as I freeze in place, and I swear I hear him inhale deeply. Like he’s sniffing me.