A Bundle of Mannies

by Lorelei M. Hart

  “I don’t want a dog.” Something I’d said to Joey at least fifty times over the past couple of years. It hadn’t stopped him from trying to convince me otherwise.

  “He said that, too, but that he was always begging you to get one so you wouldn’t be so alone.”

  “That he did.” I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes. “If you know all this, why was his paperwork such a mess?” He didn’t present himself as a crappy lawyer, but that mess hadn’t shouted competence, either.

  “I didn’t know him from here.”

  I just watched him, not sure what to say to that. His tone told me it was too personal to ask, possibly painful.

  He took a deep breath. “I knew him from a bereavement support group. I lost someone, too.” His voice cracked slightly on the word too.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No.” He fiddled with the file of papers in front of him. “It’s fine. It was a while ago. But now that you have pity on me, I am going to interject some more unsolicited advice upon you.”

  “Shoot,” I encouraged.

  “Don’t take the kids to daycare. They will wonder every day if you are coming back.”

  I’d thought of that, too, and had already canceled their current placement even when given the stern warning that if I decided to come back, I’d be placed on the bottom of the waitlist. We had a childcare center at work, operated by the Early Childhood Education department, and while it wasn’t ideal to have students learning how to take care of children in a group setting, I’d always be close. But he was right. Dropping them off was something that would have to be done when they started school, but if I could avoid it while the wound was freshest, that wasn’t the worst of ideas.

  “What other option do I have? I need to work. I’m not taking the kids future from them to be a stay-at-home father.” And therein lay the problem. The only way I could afford to stay home with them would be to tap into their college fund. The tradeoff wasn’t worth it.

  “Hire a manny. You can even get a live-in who does some light housekeeping.”

  Because one could just snap their fingers and have the perfect manny showing up on their doorstep for the same price as a daycare center.

  “What, just put an ad in the paper looking for some stranger to move in and take care of the kids and house?” It was a nice dream, but that was all it was.

  “Basically, but don’t use the paper. Call Manny’s Mannies.”

  “They are better?” And exist? Maybe the idea wasn’t as farfetched as I’d thought.

  “From what I hear, they are the best. My friend Ronnie used them and couldn’t be happier.”

  “I’ll look them up. Are you sure they’re good?” The last thing these poor kids needed was to have a crappy caretaker while the rest of their lives was in upheaval.

  “Amazing. But, fair warning. Ronnie just needed a manny, and he ended up with an alpha.”

  “I don’t need an alpha, so all is good,” I joshed back. I didn’t need an omega, either. And really, who would want an omega studies professor with three children under the age of five and no dog. An omega would surely want a dog. Yeah, that was why I didn’t want or need an omega. All because of an imaginary dog.

  Chapter Four

  Beckham

  I’d waited with bated breath the forty-eight hours it took for Manny’s Mannies to complete the background check. I didn’t have anything on my record, but Kevin said sometimes those things pull up past issues we never knew existed.

  I couldn’t believe I was actually speaking to the jerk. He took our rent money and squandered it who knew where.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. My nerves were so shot to hell that I jumped about three feet and juggled the thing in my hand before answering.

  “Hello?”

  I listened closely, pen in my hand poised above a notebook, waiting for either the letdown or the instructions to get the job. Hopefully, it was the latter.

  I listened to the upbeat person on the phone tell me that my background check came out squeaky clean and they had scheduled my first interview with a man with three children.

  I sighed and accepted the interview.

  “In two hours?” I repeated after the man told me the appointment time.

  “Yes, this is a special case. He has taken on his late brother’s family and needs someone asap. Can you be there? If not, we can find someone else—”

  Almost interrupting him, I answered, “No. I can be there. No problem.”

  He said that he would text me the address.

  After a quick and thorough shower, I stood at my closet, towel around my waist, still dripping wet, wondering what the fuck to wear. A suit seemed to be too much since I would be a manny, but casual seemed too...lazy?

  Shit.

  I settled on a button-up shirt with dark jeans and loafers. Casual enough to show I wasn’t afraid to get my hands dirty, but not so loose as to think I wasn’t responsible.

  Goodness, I was overthinking this whole thing. I just needed to go in, be myself, and tell them I was qualified.

  Now to make my nervous stomach understand.

  Fuck, there was so much on the line. If I didn’t get this job, I was not only out of money but nearly homeless. I’d have to move back home and be the brunt of nonstop lectures from my parents about responsibility.

  As if they knew anything about it.

  I gathered my phone, wallet, and keys and headed out, still a few minutes early. I’d plugged the address into my phone and had just enough data left on my plan for GPS to get me there.

  Minutes later, I pulled into the driveway and sat there like a big idiot. I was overthinking everything.

  The house was small, certainly too small for the three children the guy from Manny’s Mannies had told me about. But, then again, I was about to be homeless, so I had no room to talk.

  I straightened my shirt and wiped my palms on my thighs while I checked my hair in the side mirror.

  I may or may not have given myself a cheesy little pep talk.

  The door was red, and I smiled at the bronze mailbox and flowers next to the porch. Whoever lived here made it look like home.

  I pushed the doorbell and heard kids playing and yelling inside. Soon, the door opened and my breath seized in my lungs.

  No, it couldn’t be. Fate had it in for me.

  “Are you from the manny service?” he asked, one child on each hip, a girl and a boy. I knew there were three, so I scanned the place for the third.

  “Where is the other one?” I asked and stepped over the threshold, though he hadn’t exactly invited me in.

  “Oh, um...she was just here. Chelsea!” he yelled and I laughed. If it was a toddler, they often didn’t come when you called. And usually that meant mayhem.

  “Oh, gosh!” I rushed inside seeing the scenario that was about to happen. The little girl, Chelsea, he’d called her, was using the wall for balance to stand up and was inches away from sticking her chubby little fingers into an uncovered plug. I scooped her up just in time and sat on the nearest chair to catch my breath.

  Carter had gone completely white. “She could’ve been electrocuted. I’m so bad at this.”

  I bounced the little one on my knee as I took in the place. Either he was right, he was really bad at this, or a small tornado had just passed through.

  “Well, that’s why you need a manny, right? And some plug covers. Every outlet needs them.”

  He sat on the couch and took a breath. “Beckham? Do you think you can help me?”

  My heart cracked open at the sound of desperation in his voice. His scent hadn’t changed. Even in the Chelsea chaos, I scented him.

  “I think you need to interview me.” I put my hand on the edge of the coffee table, as the boy toddler almost smacked his little forehead on it.

  “See that? I don’t know how you did that.” He pointed to my hand. “I don’t have that instinct yet. No interview. I already kind of know you. Can you move in today? Please.” />
  “Carter?” I asked and waited for his full attention which was nearly impossible with three little ones under his feet. “Is what you and I...I mean we...will this be a problem?”

  Me and my big fucking mouth.

  Chapter Five

  Carter

  A few days earlier…

  Chaos. My life was chaos, and I had no idea how to make it better. The kids deserved it, which was why I was sitting in the office of the highest-rated manny agency in the state.

  “I’m sorry, Manny, I know this is your job and everything, but I want to be the one to interview him. These kids have lost so much—I need to be sure.”

  Of course, when I had said those words to the man, I was still in what I have since learned was the honeymoon period. No, it wasn’t a happy time like I imagined a honeymoon would be, but the kids were still so in shock about all that happened that they were pretty much doing exactly what I told them to and nothing else.

  And then they got more comfortable, and my ability to handle things fell away. I was such a fraud pretending to be a responsible adult. I had no idea how to change diapers while potty training and keeping a curious four-year-old from “explorin’’’ the things in the house that were unsafe. And then, when I finally got them settled in at night, it took me twice as long to lesson plan as it should, my brain officially mush. So I gave him my requirements and went home with everything crossed that he could find me someone amazing.

  It would so take someone amazing!

  And now, with only a couple of hours’ notice, the manny was coming over, and the house looked more like a cartoon than real life. He was going to reject my offer. And let’s face it, I was going to offer him the job. Manny had wanted to just assign someone to us, saying he was perfect and that was going to have to be good enough. I just couldn’t do it on my own even if I didn’t have to go back to work, and I very much did.

  The doorbell rang just as Hannah decided to climb the bookshelf to get my scissors. I scooped her up to my hip, her brother perpetually glued to the other side, and answered the door.

  When I opened the door, my jaw nearly dropped at the sight of Beckham, my one-night stand from a few years back. He’d been going to school for law. What was he doing as a manny?

  And he didn’t even seem to recognize me.

  “Are you from the manny service?” I asked as he scanned the place for what I wasn’t exactly sure. If it was a clean home, he wasn’t going to find it. Toys were scattered every which way.

  “Where is the other one?” he asked. It took me a bit too long to figure out what he meant, my focus sadly on why he didn’t recognize me. What a time to let my alpha ego get bruised.

  “Oh, um...she was just here. Chelsea!” I yelled as I caught her out of the corner of my eye. I officially needed one more hip. The ten seconds it took me to answer the door was all the time she needed to get herself in a dangerous situation.

  “Oh, gosh!” He rushed inside and immediately jumped into action, removing her from the danger as I stood there with a kid on each hip, trying to figure out how to get to her without dropping them. Beckham was just what I needed.

  “She could’ve been electrocuted. I’m so bad at this.” And that was the harsh reality that was my life. And if it were a hobby or even my job, it would be fine. I could just move on to something else, but it wasn’t. This was the lives of the three children who had suddenly become the center of my universe. I had to get good at it. No, better than that. I needed to be amazing at it.

  “Well, that’s why you need a manny, right? And some plug covers. Every outlet needs them.”

  I sat on the couch, fearing my knees would give. “Beckham, do you think you can help me?”

  “I think you need to interview me.” He slapped his hand on the edge of the coffee table, as Jase almost smacked his little forehead on it. I’d put the child down for exactly two seconds.

  “See that? I don’t know how you did that.” I pointed to his hand. “I don’t have that instinct yet. No interview. I already kind of know you. Can you move in today? Please.” I put it all out there, willing to beg if necessary. I needed help, and while I didn’t know all I should about Beck, I saw enough to know he was going to make things better around here.

  It meant he was my employee, so we needed to discuss our sweaty night of fun, make sure it was in the past, but that was so long ago—it would be fine. Probably. I still wasn’t sure he realized it was me.

  “Carter?” he asked. “Is what you and I...I mean we...will this be a problem?” Good, he remembered that night, too. I mean, of course he did. It was mind-blowing. Except he hadn’t showed the slightest recognition, although to be fair, I’d almost had to make two 9-1-1 calls during the few minutes since he got here.

  “It was years ago.”

  He gave a curt nod.

  I went on, “And we are adults. Speaking of which, Manny said your name was Charles.” Not that that even crossed my mind until then. “You are here from Manny’s?” Please let him be here from Manny’s. I’d asked but just realized he hadn’t actually answered.

  “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Charles Beckham Tenner, III.” He gave a slight bow from his seat. “Pretentious, isn’t it?”

  “Just a touch,” I teased.

  “My father wanted an alpha son, one who had either a Dr. in front of his name or a law firm bearing his name. He got neither.” He shrugged before lurching forward enough to grab a half-filled coffee cup off the side table before little hands got to it.

  “You didn’t end up going to law school?” It wasn’t my business. Not in the slightest, but I wanted to know.

  “I ended up taking time off to care for my grandfather.” He stood up, brushing at his pants. “So, show me around. I have a feeling tonight will entail a lot of childproofing.”

  School was off the table as a discussion point. Got it.

  “I will show you around, but should tell you this situation is not permanent. We are only here for a few days while the contractor and I work out the details for the renovations and then we will be staying at their old home while they are being done.” I stood up and snagged Jase just as he tried to climb my floor lamp. Staying here was not the best of ideas, but Joey’s place had too many memories. “Let’s give you the royal tour.”

  “I have never been given the royal treatment before.” He smiled, Chelsea still in his arms and Hannah by his side.

  I seemed to remember kneeling in front of him and treating him like a king but pushed the image down deep. He was the manny. That was it. Just the manny.

  I had a feeling I’d be telling myself that a lot.

  Chapter Six

  Beckham

  His house was far from childproof, but anyone who hadn’t grown up taking care of siblings or cracked a childcare book wouldn’t know that.

  I squinted and tried like hell to block out my memories of that night with Carter. It had been like a fantasy lived out. But I had to focus on this job, not how hot he looked in the father role with kids hanging off his hips and legs.

  Focus, man. Focus.

  While he talked, and Chelsea drowsed on my hip, I took out my phone, opened the Notes app, and jotted down things I saw. Some things could be easily avoided, while others made my stomach flop thinking about the potential hazards.

  “We might want to reconsider the glass table,” I said and then regretted it. We. I shouldn’t be saying we at all. This man was now my boss. I had to save the images in my mind for the shower later on. I saw lots and lots of shower time in my future—after the kids were put to bed, of course.

  He scrubbed a hand over his pristine jawline. “We can get those out of here tonight. What else do you see?”

  “You need a baby gate for the stairs. One at the top and one at the bottom. Outlet plugs, like I said before. And there are no childproof locks on the bathroom cabinets or faucet.”

  His eyebrows scrunched up. “The faucet?”

  I nodded. “So they don’t turn on
the water accidentally and burn themselves. Also, have you turned the hot water heater down? Hot water is amazing for us, but their skin is more sensitive. I can look up the temperature it’s supposed to be.”

  I made a note to do so later.

  “I need a book or something,” he grumbled, and I found it endearing. He had taken on so much.

  “Hey.” I put my hand on his arm and then immediately retracted it. “It’s a learning curve and I’m here to help. I’m sure once you move to their old home, you will take notice of things that are different. Maybe some other things you need here. And yes, there are thousands of books on childcare if that would help you.”

  Carter looked down at the place where I’d touched his arm. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  I moved out of the bedroom. Chelsea’s eyes were drooping now. “I think this one needs a nap. Do they have a schedule?”

  He gaped at me.

  “Okay, another thing we need. With three so little like this, we need a schedule or else mayhem will be soon.”

  I deposited Chelsea in her travel crib, set up a guest room with sparse furnishings. I shut the door and took Jase from him. “Where will I be staying?”

  After the question left my mouth, I swore I saw Carter look toward the master bedroom. He had pointed it out before, but I hadn’t gone inside.

  Fuck, this was going to be hard. Like every part of this—hard.

  “Oh, it’s downstairs for this week. After we move back to the other house, it will be the addition my brother had built in the back, I suppose. I’ll have to go look and decide.”

  We walked downstairs, and I pointed out the need for the baby gate again. He agreed, and I followed him to a room off the main living area. It wasn’t anything to write home about, but then again, I was practically homeless, so it would be great. The walls were pale gray that matched well with the darker wood dressers and bedside table. Single bed. Interesting.