"Okay, thank you so much! Goodbye."
As soon as the phone call ends, I immediately hop off the bed and strip down to get into the shower. The running water from the showerhead is still slightly cold when I jump into the tub with my toothbrush in hand. I can feel my body shivering a bit as I brush my teeth with one hand and throw shampoo into my hair with the other. Every minute on the clock counts right now, especially since I don't even know how long it'll take me to get to Providence which I assume to be some sort of restaurant.
But I pause and stop brushing my teeth when the strange realization hits me. Even though the woman who called me clearly knew my full name, the name of the establishment that she mentioned doesn't ring a bell to me at all. I slowly begin to wash out the shampoo in my hair while the shower water grows hotter.
Providence? Did I really call up a place like that for a job? And why does the name Bishop sound so irritatingly familiar to me? The truth is right at the tip of my tongue, but I can't seem to spit it out.
I guess I'll have to find out when I get to Providence -- wherever that is.
***
I tensely take another bite of the free bread provided by the restaurant as I glance down at my watch for the sixth time. The clock reads out to be 10:17 AM which is a long 17 minutes past the scheduled meeting time that I'm supposed to have with a man who goes by the name of Mr. Bishop. Normally, I wouldn't mind the tardiness even though it feels a little sloppy for the person who's supposed to be a professional to show up late, but it's different when I'm stuck waiting at a fancy restaurant which is clearly out of my paycheck and out of my comfort zone. The wary looks that I'm getting from all of the waiters as I hesitantly consume the complimentary bread on the table is enough to put me in a bad mood.
An uncomfortable sigh is pulled from my lips as my eyes grab a glimpse of the interior of the restaurant. No matter how I look at it, there's no way I could have passed the interview for an extravagant place like this. Everything from the tableware to the complimentary food screams expensive, luxurious, and wealthy. Even the patrons who are seated within the restaurant give off an air of sophistication as they casually drink their morning wine and place their orders without looking at the price point on the menu.
It almost feels like I'm in a different world when I'm watching these people interact with each other. I can't seem to relate to them at all.
My mood begins to sour as I bite into the piece of bread in my hand and as I take another sip of my sparkling water. The more I linger in this stifling and uncomfortable atmosphere, the more I feel the urge to leave. There's only so many dirty glances that I can take from the workers before I end up reaching my breaking point. I take a slow breath and look down at my watch again. It's 10:23 now.
Seriously, where the hell is this guy?
10 o'clock my ass. This is getting ridiculous.
I shake my head in mild frustration while I bitterly finish my last bite of the bread piece. My legs are about ready to get up from the seat and make a return phone call to the woman who called me in the first place about the job opportunity when a tall man walks past me and promptly takes the seat across from me. Before I can even react to my unexpected visitor, a waiter rushes over to the table to ask: "The usual for you, sir?"
The dark-haired man nods his head in response, "Yes, please."
Once the waiter receives an answer from the man, he leaves almost as quickly as he came. But the impeccable and speedy service from the worker isn't what leaves me utterly dumbfounded and confused. It's the unbelievable sight of the person sitting across from me who has my complete and undivided attention. Despite how much I blink my eyes to try and see the real truth behind the odd scene in front of me, the sight before me doesn't change at all. The same man is still seated right in front of me.
No way.
I blankly stare at the handsome older gentleman with my mouth wide open as he reaches for his glass of water and takes a sip from it. A constant stream of questions along the lines of how and why appear in my head one after another with each passing and silent moment that goes by without an exchange. But no amount of words from me could properly express the level of disbelief and shock that I'm in from the unusual situation that has transpired before me. All I can do in my state of awe is focus on the piercing green eyes which calmly look at me from across the table.
"You-" I start to stammer and stumble over my own words like a nervous idiot. After slowing down to take a deep breath and regain some composure, I swallow down on my fear and ask, "You…Why are you here?"
The man curiously raises his brow at me and leans back in his seat. "I'm here because I'm the one who called you here. Though I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. My secretary couldn't quite get in touch with me for a while and when she finally did, it was already almost 10. I came here as fast as I could."
Even though he's clearly very apologetic about his tardiness, my eyes are too busy bulging at the revelation to remember how upset I was about his delay. "You're Mr. Bishop? The guy who is supposed to be offering me a job?" I scoff.
"Yes, I am," the handsome green-eyed man plainly replies without a hint of jest in his voice. "And I know it's probably a little late for introductions since this is already our third meeting, but I'm Noah Bishop. Taylor's father."
Right. So that's why the name Bishop sounded so familiar.
The remaining strength in my legs give out as I end up sinking back down into my seat. I thought the situation would make a lot more sense once this Bishop guy finally showed up, but his actual appearance only fills me up with even more questions than before; questions like, how did he get my name and my phone number? And what is this mysterious job opportunity that his secretary was talking about over the phone?
My head is practically spinning from all the uncertainties that are lingering in my chest. I loosely shrug my shoulders at him and ask, "So was this whole job offer thing that your secretary was calling me about a joke or-"
"No, it's not a joke," Noah interrupts as he neatly folds his hands in front of himself. He has his mouth opened and ready to speak, but there seems to be a bit of hesitation in his next upcoming statement. He eventually closes his eyes and lets out a small sigh before continuing his explanation.
"I would like to offer you the opportunity to become Taylor's nanny," he states while maintaining direct eye contact with me the whole time. "I understand that you've been looking for a job, and I'm here to present you with one."
"Really?" I suddenly blurt out loud.
Almost everyone in the restaurant pauses from the sound of my abrupt exclamation, their heads swiveling around to see what the noisy fuss is about. My hand immediately moves to cover my mouth when I realize just how loud I was speaking in the peaceful and classy setting. But I can't contain my excitement from the unexpected yet almost-too-good-to-be-true news, especially when the stern expression in Noah's green gaze tells me that he isn't joking around. He actually looks serious about this arrangement.
"Yes, really," Noah responds as he sends an apologetic nod to all of the surrounding customers that I happened to disturb with my unintended shout.
"But wait," I say as a sudden realization hits me. "What happened to the nanny that you said you found for her before? Didn't you mention that you already had someone lined up to take care of Taylor the last time we saw each other?"
My astute remark forces the man to stifle his amused laughter. The stiff and professional exterior that he's been carrying around since he first sat down at the table has crumbled with a single chuckle. I watch his gentle smile light up across his handsome face while my heart slowly flutters in amazement. He's so distractingly attractive when there's an earnest smile on his lips that I tend to briefly forget about what it was that we were even discussing in the first place.
I temporarily lower my gaze away from his dazzling sight in order to suppress my stirring emotions. Although I can feel my chest tensing up from the charming expression that's on his face, I'm still left
ultimately befuddled by his unusual reaction to my statement.
After shaking his head for a bit, Noah returns back to his normal stoic self and explains, "Let's just say that Taylor has a way of making all of the nannies that I've hired for her so far quit. Most of them don't even manage to last a month before they tell me that they want to leave." He smirks and adds, "She's not exactly an agreeable child when it comes to strangers, and the nannies don't seem to deem it worthwhile to take care of Taylor because of the added stress she brings them."
What?
My brow heavily furrows at the sound of Noah's reasoning. Everything that he's been saying so far paints Taylor as some sort of a devil child when my personal experience with the young girl has been nothing but pleasant. Compared to some of the other bratty children that I've seen around her age, Taylor's one of a kind with her sweet, respectful, and independent behavior. I can't picture her as a problem child at all.
But even if Noah is just mistaken about Taylor's disposition, there's still another matter that needs to be cleared and discussed before I can fully accept that this whole situation isn't a dream.
"Okay," I cross my arms and nod my head. "Even if I do agree to this job - why me? I'm sure you know that I'm highly unqualified for this, and you have all the money in the world to hire someone who can easily do the nanny job better than I ever could. So why does it have to be me?"
"Fair question," he smiles as he reaches for his wineglass to take a sip from it. The brilliant gleam of his green gaze continues to intently watch me even while he's drinking his wine. I anxiously stare back at him until he sets the empty glass back down.
"The main difference between you and all the other nannies that I've picked out for Taylor so far is that Taylor actually likes you. She likes you a lot, and I'm willing to take a chance on hiring you based off that fondness that she holds for you," Noah confidently claims as he leans forward in his seat. "Besides, you've already shown me a bit of what you're capable of when it comes down to protecting her, and that's enough for me to give it a try. As long as you're up for it, of course."
A strong feeling of hesitation grips me as Noah unintentionally places the pressure and spotlight on my pending decision. Despite previously believing that I would probably jump at the chance to work as a nanny for a kid like Taylor, I gradually begin to feel a heavy weight on my shoulders from the thought of it. Truthfully, I have little to no experience dealing with children on a regular basis, especially when it comes down to taking care of them beyond the usual and expected responsibilities. The closest thing that I can think of which might attest to my ability as a nanny would be how I used to watch over my younger brother when we were kids. However, even that doesn't seem enough to justify my skills.
I'm just a glorified babysitter.
The grueling decision has me at my wits' end when Noah slips a document onto my side of the table. "My words might not be able to convince you, but maybe this will," he slyly adds.
I suspiciously eye the folder that's been placed in front of me, my wary gaze glancing down at the document and back up at his face for some clarification as to what's within the folder. But the man patiently waits for me to take the plunge of curiosity on my own. My hand cautiously flips open the file where I find a bunch of stapled papers which appear to be some sort of a job contract. I begin reading through the contents written on each piece of paper until my eyes suddenly stop at a six-figure number staring at me in the face.
Holy shit.
A slight gasp slips out from my throat as I read the number over again in my head. Six-figures. I would be paid six-figures for taking care of Taylor as the role of her nanny. That's more than triple the amount that I would be making at any other job I've applied for, and it's pretty much a ridiculous salary number which I don't think I would ever be able to achieve over the span of my entire lifetime. I would never have to worry about making rent or paying the bills on time if I took this job. This amount of money is more than enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life.
Is this contract honestly for real?
My head continues to slowly shake back and forth in pure disbelief of the astronomical number being presented to me. Even though the six-figures are clearly printed in black ink on the page, it's hard to believe and accept that this is the actual salary number that's being offered to me. I'd be set for life with that kind of money, and that sense of security and stability is difficult to decline with the current position that I'm in. Any doubts that I might have about my performance in taking up the position as Taylor's nanny will have to be stowed away. I just have to step up my game and do the job right.
How hard can taking care of a 6-year old girl be anyway?
"You've convinced me. I mean, how can I realistically say no to an offer like this? I'll do it. I'll become Taylor's nanny," I say with my head held high and a bit of shaky excitement in my voice.
But Noah simply nods his head as though he was expecting that kind of compliance and answer from me. There's not a hint of surprise in his green-eyed stare which looks at me without much of an expression besides a distant one. It's virtually impossible to tell whether or not he's pleased or unhappy with the news when his cold poker face is on.
"Just so you know, I'll need you to start working right away," the man mentions as he takes out his phone and begins typing on it.
"Yeah, that's not a problem," I reply.
"Good," Noah says as he suddenly gets up from his seat and fixes up his suit jacket. "My secretary will contact you with the rest of the details regarding your duties. You'll hear everything you need to know from her," he adds.
I acknowledge his brief instruction with a nod of my head and quietly watch the refined older man begin to take his leave. My eyes naturally start to follow the movements of his hands without thinking, the motions of his slender fingers brushing off the creases in his outfit. There's a certain air and quality to his simple actions and gestures which makes it hard to look away from him. It must be that unintentional yet seductive mystique which surrounds him in whatever he does. And it certainly doesn't help the situation that he's got that mature and seasoned presence on top of his good looks.
I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that I'm a little bit attracted to him, even if he is much older than I am. It's truly difficult to resist a man who's handsome, sophisticated, and settled.
A warm glow spreads throughout my body while my gaze observes each individual feature of his attractive face. With striking green eyes like those and a cleanly-shaven beard to compliment his defined facial structure, it's no surprise that he would land a beauty like the blonde I met at the library. But just thinking about the insufferable type of women that he's into dating fills me with an irritable feeling of envy. I force myself to shake off the irrational jealousy that's stirring within my chest when I look up at his face and realize that Noah's been watching me creepily stare at him.
Oh, shit.
My heart immediately tenses up when we make eye contact which causes me to look away in shame. There's no doubt that he caught me awkwardly gawking at him, especially with the way he waited for me to notice him. I bite my lip and keep my anxious stare fixated on the empty plate filled with loose bread crumbs as I wait for Noah to walk away from the table. A small sigh of relief escapes my lips when I finally notice him moving out of his seat in the corner of my eye, his presence gradually walking toward the exit of the restaurant.
Yet on his way out, Noah abruptly stops in his tracks while he's standing right next to me. "And one more thing," he says in a grave tone of voice. The man turns his face toward me so that I can see the stern expression in his cold eyes. "Just remember that this job is strictly business only. It'd be a pain for me if you overstepped your boundaries."
A chilling tingle runs down my spine from the ominous message that Noah nonchalantly relays to me. I can't tell if he's talking about boundaries in reference to me getting too close to Taylor or if he's sending me a warning in regards to my sligh
t yet obvious attraction toward him. As much as I want to believe that it's the former instead of the latter, my heart can only feel the grim intent behind his words which are telling me to keep my distance from him. He clearly doesn't trust me to not mix business with pleasure which is an unwarranted and frankly insulting belief that I assume to be held by him due to my age. But honestly, he's got a lot of nerve to assume that I would risk my integrity and position to pursue a man like him.
What an arrogant piece of shit.
I grit my teeth and force a smile, "I'm sure I won't forget that fact, Mr. Bishop. You won't ever have to worry about that happening."
My bitter gaze dares to stare back at him with a defiant glare in my eyes. He might be right about the fleeting emotions and naïve infatuation that I have for him, but that doesn't give him the right to offhandedly insult and embarrass me like that. And even though every muscle and inch in my body is telling me to not take the job offer because of my dignity at stake, I quell those urges with a firm swallow of the phantom lump in my throat. Pride won't feed my stomach or pay the monthly bills for me, and right now I'd rather take the money over the small victory of telling him off.
I boldly continue to stare at Noah with a slight scowl on my lips while he maintains the same pompous look on his face. The hostile exchange of glances between us eventually breaks when the screen on his cell phone lights up, the notification on the screen grabbing his attention away from me. He takes a brief glimpse at the message and gives me one last look before heading off to the exit without saying another word to me. And not long after his departure does my phone begin to ring from a number that I don't recognize, a number which I assume to be his secretary's.
I pick up the phone call and answer it. "Hello?"
The same peppy voice from this morning greets me without delay: "Hello, Miss Hart! It's good to be able to speak to you again."
***
Daddy's Contract : A Single Dad and Nanny Romance Page 7