by Cat Johnson
More importantly, I suspected Sarah wouldn’t like it at all. Not one little bit.
As her nanny, it was my job to protect her as well as Stewie. Time to get Harper off the trail. Although like my grandpa’s old hound when I’d been little, I figured once Harper had caught a scent, there was no getting her off it.
Still, I had to try.
“That’s crazy. Why would you assume there’s going to be any romance between me and Sarah?” I asked, making it sound like a ridiculous proposition, even if it was my goal.
Bethany cocked up one brow. “I’ll leave that to you to figure out. In the meantime, aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friend here?”
She walked around the counter and squatted in front of Stewie.
“Hi. I’m Bethany. What’s your name?”
“Stewie,” he said without taking his hands—or the now crushed candy bar—off the glass.
“Well, Stewie, it’s very nice to meet you. Do you want a cookie?” she asked.
I frowned. “Shouldn’t you ask the adult responsible for him if he can have a cookie before dinner?”
“The same responsible adult who obviously gave him a candy bar?” she lobbed back.
I had no response to that. I had been in a pretty good mood before these three women got in my way. Now, not so much.
But Bethany was a friend, and she was dating Brandon—who was currently Sarah’s landlord—so I had to put up with her teasing. And all the rest of them too, I guessed.
Bethany handed Stewie a cookie, and offered to take the squashed, still wrapped candy bar so he could use both hands, before she stood and looked to me. “So, can I get you anything or are you just visiting.”
Now, under the watchful eye of the three women, I was second guessing my decision to treat Sarah to honey buns after dinner. They’d read it as a romantic gesture, which it could be. But hell, it could also just be dessert. It didn’t have to have any deeper meaning than that.
Fuck it. I was getting what I came for. “Three honey buns please.”
“You got it.” Bethany moved behind the counter and grabbed a box.
There were no more words spoken but I felt all of the unspoken ones radiating from the women. They were so different in appearance but the three were obviously united in their assumptions about me trying to woo Sarah with sweets.
Fine. Let them think what they wanted. I didn’t give a fuck. Sarah and I were going to have a nice dinner and dessert.
Stewie too, if he could eat anything after all the sweets I’d fed him. Maybe I wasn’t such a stellar nanny after all.
Oh, well. What was done was done. I’d do better with Stewie’s snacks tomorrow. And what Sarah didn’t know about the cookie, wouldn’t hurt her.
“Hi, Boone. Hey, Stewie.”
I spun at the sound of Sarah’s voice behind me, just as I’d been thinking about her.
“Uh. Hey. What are you doing home so early?” I asked, pretending I didn’t feel guilty Stewie was gum’s deep in a giant cookie an hour before dinner.
“I left work a little early. My boss scheduled a presentation for early tomorrow morning and I figured I’d get more work done at home than in the office.” Her gaze cut to the women around the space, before she continued. “I noticed the Morgan truck with the car seat inside parked out front.”
“I’m glad you’re here. You can meet my friends.” Maybe I could distract her from Stewie’s sugar high with introductions.
“All right.” She nodded, looking less than enthusiastic.
For a professional woman, she seemed surprisingly shy about meeting people. Although, knowing these women, maybe Sarah should be a little frightened.
“Sarah, this is Red, my brother Cash’s girlfriend.”
Red shot me a glare. “I’m way more than just Cashel Morgan’s girlfriend.” She directed her gaze to Sarah. “I also own the resale shop down the road.”
Sarah nodded to Red. “Nice to meet you.”
I rolled my eyes at Red and continued, “This is Harper, my brother Stone’s girlfriend and, also, a famous author.” I added the last part about her occupation before I got the same reaction from Harper that I’d gotten from Red.
Apparently some women didn’t like being introduced as somebody’s girlfriend. Weird.
“I'm not exactly famous, but it's nice to meet you.” Harper smiled brightly.
“You too,” Sarah said, as, God help me, I swore I could see the writerly wheels turning in Harper’s brain.
Time to move on and quickly.
“And this is Bethany. This is her bake shop. She’s dating Brandon Webster, who owns the house you’re renting. She’s also the one to blame for Stewie eating that cookie before dinner.”
Happily, I threw Bethany under the bus. It was every man for himself in this situation.
Bethany shook her head at my accusation. “Rule number one. Don’t bring a child into my bakery if you don’t want him to have a cookie.”
To my surprise, Sarah actually let out a laugh before shooting me a glance. “Sounds logical to me.
“And, oh my God, isn’t that house you're staying in just the bee’s knees? Do you love it?” Bethany asked Sarah.
“It’s the cat’s meow,” Red said, grinning.
“The bomb diggity,” Harper piped in with a smile.
I chuckled as Bethany’s two friends teased her.
Bethany good naturedly took the mocking in stride with not much more than a shake of her head.
She always said weird things like that. Her old timey sayings were as colorful as her blue and purple streaked hair. It was one of the things I liked about her.
I liked people who weren’t afraid to be different, although she didn’t think there was anything strange about it.
Sarah cocked her head to one side as she glanced around the group. Finally, she said, “It is an amazing home. And the river view is beautiful.”
“And it’s about time we got back to it so Stewie can eat something for dinner that’s not made of sugar.” Not wanting to give the women a chance to say anything to Sarah that would embarrass me or make her feel uncomfortable, I stalked to the counter.
I planted a ten-dollar bill down, before picking up the bakery box Bethany had prepared for me.
“Thank you for these.” I grabbed Stewie’s hand and waited for Sarah to say goodbye and preceed me out the door.
No way in hell was I leaving her alone to be interrogated by these sharks.
When she was safely outside on the sidewalk, I paused in the doorway and glanced toward Red and Harper. “Ladies.”
“Boone,” Red returned.
“Have a good night, you two,” Harper sing-songed, no doubt hoping I would have a very good night. And that I’d tell my brother about it so he could tell her.
She was so wrong on so many levels. Oh, I was definitely hoping for a good night. But Agnes’s pet pig Petunia would fly before I’d tell Stone or Cash anything about it.
With Stewie held in one hand and the box of honey buns in the other, I stepped outside.
Time to get back to work—at my nanny job, that is. Get this kid fed, cleaned and to bed. Then I could get to work on breaking down those walls around his aunt.
TWELVE
Sarah
I was not a Millennial.
That was made very clear by the fact I’d never used the words bee’s knees or bomb diggity or cat’s meow in my life.
I’d heard the phrases. In old movies, I supposed. But the baker and her friends, who all looked as if they were deep in the Millennial age bracket, had used them today. As part of normal everyday conversation.
The younger generation had apparently resurrected and adopted the old sayings. And lucky me, I was there to hear it.
Thank goodness I’d seen Boone’s truck and had stopped by. Now I had something to take my presentation to the next level. Something Jerry wouldn’t have.
It was like I’d found a golden nugget of Millennial culture and I
sure as hell wasn’t going to share it with him.
I might have to share this project with him but this information was all mine and I would make sure I was the one to present the suggestion to the boss that we incorporate these cool new words from the Millennial lexicon in our campaign.
I couldn’t believe no other companies were using this approach in their campaigns.
Was it that cutting edge? If it was, this campaign could go down in history with all of the great unforgettable campaigns. Thing such as I’m a Pepper. Or have a Coke and a smile. And where’s the beef?
I could see it now… MOD, Media On Demand, it’s the bomb diggity.
So afraid I was going forget one of the phrases the three girls had spouted, I sat in my parked car in the driveway of the house, dug out a pen, and scribbled the phrases in the top margin of my notes.
Even then I had to think, did she say cat’s meow or cat’s pajamas. Not sure, I wrote them both down. At least I was sure about the bee’s knees and bomb diggity.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I hadn’t been this excited about an idea in a long time.
I could even envision the visuals. Thanks to that coffee shop and Boone’s friends, I had a second idea, besides the family scene I’d first come up with.
Three girls, getting together for some me time. It would all be very Sex and the City. They would be talking about all the great things they’d streamed recently.
It could be like a book club, but they’d be discussing the shows they’d watched and recommending them to each other, which would be a perfect place for one to mention how the streaming app learns the viewer’s preferences and recommends more like them.
And of course, the dialog would be peppered with the new Millennial phrases I’d heard today.
I could kiss Boone for taking Stewie to the bakery, which had led me being there to hear his friends talk . . . and at that thought I realized I’d better temper my creative high before I said or did something foolish.
Adrenaline was a powerful drug. So was victory.
I already had my plan in place for tomorrow morning’s progress meeting with the boss. I would let Jerry go first. Let him fall on his face presenting whatever crap idea he’d honed.
Then I’d go up and pitch my take on the campaign.
I’d convinced Jerry that we should both work on our pitches separately tonight, for various reasons.
It was true we needed more than one idea. Nothing killed a team faster than going all in on one single pitch, only to have the client shoot it down.
But my real motivation was that I wasn’t about to work on the presentation with Jerry after hours, as he’d wanted.
Ugh. Nope. Never again.
Hell would have to freeze over, and even then, Lucifer would be a preferable choice compared to Jerry for a mate.
It might take me all night to get my presentation ready since I was working alone but I was willing to do it.
In fact, I was so wrapped up in thinking about my idea for the campaign, I wasn’t even distracted by Boone as he worked in the kitchen, which was pretty amazing but a good thing. Of course, my ability to concentrate might have been helped by the fact that he actually kept his shirt on tonight.
I did feel bad that I was also so distracted I barely listened as Stewie babbled on about his day . . . until he dropped his fork, and then dropped the f-bomb.
That got my attention.
I turned to glare at Boone, who’d frozen in mid-bite. I didn’t even have to say a word. He knew what I was thinking.
He put his fork down and glanced toward the counter where a clear glass jar sat next to the sink. On it, written in black marker, was CUSS JAR.
“I swear it wasn’t me today. I was good. It was Cash. And I apologize for that since I’m the one who brought Stewie around my brothers. But I started another cuss jar at the farm. We’re all going to be good from now on. I promise.”
“We’ll see,” I said, doubtful.
I really had no right to be self-righteous. I’d been known to let the four-letter words fly myself. Particularly after a few wines or when ranting about Jerry to Kim.
The Greg and Jana situation should be cuss worthy but the truth was, I simply didn’t talk about it. It hurt too much still. Maybe one day I’d be healed enough for a good old obscenity-laden bitch session, but not yet.
I pushed the thought away now since it had the tasty dinner Boone had cooked for me sitting heavy in my belly.
“So, how was work today?” he asked.
“It was work. Same old thing.”
It was nice he’d asked, nice that he was trying to make polite conversation, but the truth was I only wanted to do one thing right now—work on my presentation.
There were visuals to mock-up. I had to search stock video sites and try to put together something to show the boss. I found showing so much better than telling, especially when working with a man.
Not to be sexist, but it was true. Well, at least it was true of my boss.
I glanced at Boone. Past him, I noticed he’d set a jelly jar filled with wildflowers on the counter. Such a small thing but it brightened the whole kitchen, making it feel bright and cheery.
It seemed an odd thing for a man who spent all day working and all evening cooking and babysitting to think of, but Boone had. I had to think that if any man could visualize the creative idea in my head without being shown, it might be Boone.
And that was the last thing I needed to be thinking about.
Wasn’t it enough that he had a perfect body? I did not need to find out that he had some sort of artistic sensitive side too.
Time for some distance.
“Um, I need to get to work on my presentation. Would you mind very much if I left you with Stewie and went upstairs and got right to it?”
I felt bad abandoning Stewie when I hadn’t seen him all day, but he would probably have a better time with Boone than with me anyway.
Did Boone look a little disappointed? If he was, he hid it quickly as he said, “That’s fine. Do you want a glass of wine to take with you?”
“No. Definitely not. If I do that, I’ll never get anything done.”
“Okay. How about dessert then? I picked up honey buns for us from Bethany’s.”
“Thank you. But no. I’m good.”
“Oh. All right.”
Yup. There it was again. That shadow of disappointment in the man who was usually bubbling with good moods.
“Rain check?” I asked. “That sounds like the perfect thing for me to take in the car tomorrow with my coffee for the commute.”
His brows rose. “You should be concentrating on driving, not eating and drinking behind the wheel.”
“Yes, Dad.” I smiled at his concern.
His stern expression couldn’t hold as a small smile broke through. “I’ll wrap one up and put it next to your coffee mug for the morning.”
He really was sweet. And young, just like the girls from today who were dating his brothers.
With that reminder firmly in mind, I said, “Thank you.”
I stood and gathered my stuff.
There was a lot of it. Cell phone. Laptop. Notebook. Print outs.
I hauled it all up the stairs to the room that had become mine. At least for the next few months. I got right to work.
Not long after I'd gone up, I heard Boone bringing Stewie upstairs for a bath. Heard him tucking him into the bedroom next to mine. And then heard the door close on the room Boone had chosen for his own, just across the hall from mine.
So close.
Too close.
And that didn’t matter because I was his boss. And he was here to watch Stewie.
I turned my attention back to the video editing software and before I knew it, it was past midnight and I had to get up in just a handful of hours.
Shit.
Good thing Boone’s cuss jar didn’t count for obscenities I’d only thought but didn’t say.
Smiling at that though
t I stood, my muscles protesting from how long I’d sat motionless.
I had to admit, the bed in this room was comfortable for working in. Just as comfortable for sleep, which is what I needed to do.
But first, a glass of water. I felt a headache coming on.
I made my way to the private bathroom off the master bedroom to grab some ibuprofen from my bag.
One day I’d get around to filling that big cast iron bathtub and soaking in it. But not today.
I couldn’t stand being in work clothes for another moment. Boone had gone to his room a long while ago so I figured it was safe to sneak downstairs for a glass of water in my PJs. I changed into soft short cotton sleep-shorts and a tank top.
It was warm tonight and there was no A/C in the house so I wore my lightest sleep clothes.
I'd enjoy sleeping with the windows open, something I never did in my air-conditioned apartment.
I eased open my door and had taken a few steps down the hall just as Boone’s door opened and he too stepped out—in nothing but boxer shorts—and crashed into me in the dim hall.
“Oh, damn—darn.” He reached out to steady me then dropped his hands. “Sorry.”
“Cuss jar,” I joked and forced a laugh as I tried not to look anywhere I shouldn’t.
But damn, he was gorgeous.
His thighs were as muscular and firm as the rest of him. Somehow tan even though I’d only seen him in jeans.
I had to wonder if he ran around in shorts or maybe went skinny dipping in the river in summer, which was why he had no tan lines.
It was a tantalizing thought. One I shouldn’t be having.
“Yeah. I know. I’ll have to pay the cuss jar when I have, you know, my wallet on me.” He dipped his head shyly as he indicated there was nowhere to put his wallet in what he was currently wearing.
That was obvious and I thought a few choice obscenities myself.
I really was going to have to throw a twenty in that cuss jar and be done with it, just for my thoughts alone. Even though I managed to not say them aloud, around Boone there was no thinking clean thoughts.
“Everything okay?” he asked, concern clear in his question, which made me feel even more guilty about my objectifying this much too sweet guy.