by J. J. Bella
I read over the last one: a twenty-year-old named Rachel Glasgow from a town around an hour away, with some neighborhood babysitting experience under her belt. She also mentioned something about four nieces and nephews, and how some of her experience included staying in the owner’s house when the parents had to leave overnight. Then there were the driving skills and the cooking experience, as she explained how their family in general knew how to cook and she would be happy to demonstrate. It sounded perfect, and I could sense from her email that she was a bright girl. I shot her a reply, asking if she was available to drive here for an interview and character assessment. Not expecting a response soon, I took out my recently-cleaned laundry and repacked all that was needed again in my duffel bag.
Around ten minutes later, I heard my computer ping and checked. To my surprise, Rachel already replied enthusiastically, telling me she’d be here in less than two hours. That was fast. I replied with a short Great, then slid inside Isla’s room to gather her dirty clothes and get another set of laundry started. I’d invested in an automatic machine and dryer because it was easier, and with just a quick press on some buttons, the said machine was already running and could just be left to do its thing.
I then prepared some food for lunch. I knew Isla wanted spaghetti, which wasn’t really my specialty. I looked it up and studied the ingredients, noting down that I had all that was needed, before rummaging in my fridge for them. I was just finishing up on the spaghetti sauce when the doorbell rang.
A quick glance at the clock determined that it was indeed less than two hours. It was pretty impressive how accurate she was. Arranging everything on the kitchen island, I removed my apron and quickly strode through the living room to open the door.
The woman standing on the front porch was young.
She was also absolutely gorgeous.
Stunned, I stared at her. She had the greenest eyes I’d ever seen, almost like emeralds in their brilliant color. She had a straight nose, pinkish cheeks and bow-shaped lips tinged by lip gloss. She had her hair in a braid, but curly tendrils came loose at the sides and framed her already pretty face. I glanced at her slender neck, which had the creamiest skin ever, then down at her body.
Holy shit.
Even in a thin sweater and ordinary jeans, there was no denying her curves. She was short and petite, but I couldn’t have missed the way those hips flared, or the perky-looking breasts that popped noticeably on her chest area.
Realizing I was close to staring, I inwardly cleared my head of any wayward thoughts and remembered my manners.
“Are you Rachel?”
She stared at me for a few more seconds, almost like she was surprised to see me. Then she gave me a shy, tentative nod, one that made me believe instantly just how young she was.
Wanting her to feel comfortable, I attempted a smile and opened the door wider. “I’m Peter Bartlett. Thank you for responding to my ad and coming here right away. I know it’s short notice to have you come here, so I appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem,” she said, softly.
“Come on, in,” I said. She hesitated for a few seconds more before visibly bracing her shoulders and stepping in. I ushered her to the living room and waited until she sat on the single chair. “Do you want water? Juice?”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”
Since she didn’t want anything, I sat on the long couch and faced her. I’d never done interviews before, as the last nanny that took care of Isla was an elderly woman who lived just a block away from me. But she was retired now. I decided to start by having Rachel tell me the basics.
She really was soft-spoken and shy when she explained to me what she wrote in the email, but I could already tell that she was the cheerful type. It probably took her a while to warm up to people, and I couldn’t exactly blame the nerves as she tried to sell her skills to me. I was a big, bad werewolf compared to her size, and she probably wasn’t used to having only the man interviewing her—usually, it was the child’s mother who asked the questions.
When she was done speaking, I tilted my head and gave her a considering look. I was good at reading people right away, and based on how she talked about kids, it was easy to tell how much she loved spending time with them, most especially her nieces and nephews. I cajoled her to talk about them some more, then explained a bit about Isla—the basic information, along with the things she needed to take note of. I also told her the basics about my work as a Navy SEAL, and how being abruptly called at any time of the night to handle certain missions was part of the job that I couldn’t avoid—hence why I needed a reliable nanny who could keep Isla safe and provide for her needs while I was gone. I then discussed rates, not skimping on any details there considering that was usually why people needed a job, anyway. Rachel listened intently, then repeated them in a manner that told me she picked up on things quickly.
Earlier, after she’d responded to my email, I quickly listed down the tasks that she needed to do during her stay as a nanny here. I handed them to her now and watched as she skimmed through them, then nodded and said she could handle them. Despite her shyness, it really looked like she came prepared for this interview.
There was one question I hadn’t asked yet, and it was glaringly absent in how she didn’t bring it up, too. Not wanting to be insensitive on the matter, I decided to pose the question differently.
“What about college? Do you have a certain schedule that you need to fit in with nanny duties?”
Rachel tried not to move in her seat, but I caught the way she braced herself again before affecting a calm expression. “Actually, I just dropped out of college.”
“Why?”
Rachel stiffened, and I realized that the reason must be personal and she didn’t want to discuss it.
“I just think it’s not for me,” she murmured and left it at that.
To be honest, I didn’t really care if she finished college or not. That was her business, and as long as she had enough knowledge in how to take care of my daughter, then that was enough for me.
Rachel waited patiently as I quietly assessed her, and I did a quick, subtle perusal once more. I personally thought she was too attractive for her own good, but didn’t seem like the type to flaunt it. In fact, I realized she never used any flirting or feminine techniques when trying to win my approval—something Evelyn and a lot of women resorted to when they wanted something to go their way in general. Call me jaded, but that was the truth. Rachel was just being herself, and herself included being nervous and shy. But I could feel a certain spark inside her, and I was curious at how it would come out.
I also needed to make a decision immediately.
It was instinct that had me leaning forward to meet her gaze. Her cheeks turned slightly pink at the eye contact, but she held on and kept waiting.
“I’m looking for someone who can stay at my house part-time starting today, just in case I get called away on a mission. I’m probably going to get called in a day or two, and it usually happens at dawn—which means it’s a hassle to drive Isla to my ex-wife’s home in the middle of the night.”
“Of course,” she said. “I understand. That would disrupt your daughter’s sleep pattern, too.” She looked genuinely concerned about that, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the main reason was actually my ex-wife not liking the disruption.
“And once I’m gone, my ex-wife, Evelyn, is also scheduled to pick her up for certain days. She has a schedule on when Isla will be staying with her.”
“Of course,” Rachel replied, agreeably.
I paused. Then I went for it.
“Is there any way you can pack a bag and move in with us today? I can gladly introduce you to Isla once you accept the job.”
Again, there was another pause as I waited for her answer this time. She met my gaze again, and I expected the same shyness.
But instead, a smile bloomed on her face, one so brilliant and excited that a heated jolt entered my stomach
. Her green eyes lit up.
“I would love to meet her. And yes, I can go home and get my stuff.”
We shook on it. The same jolt that I felt in my stomach was felt again as I felt a spark run through my fingers at the touch. I kept it light and professional, offering her some of the spaghetti to eat before she went. But Rachel politely declined, and I simply watched as she slipped in a pickup truck and drove away. I could sense her excitement before she left and knew she definitely wasn’t lacking in the eagerness department. She really wanted this job.
Was I doing the right thing?
I hoped so.
Rachel
It was crazy how my emotions were all over the place as I drove back to my hometown and hurriedly went in my room to pack my bag. The first emotion, of course, was excitement. I hadn’t expected to get a response just a few days after I applied—moreover, I never expected such a positive response. It was shocking to know that I was hired right away, just like that, and I had to wonder what it was about my interview that had the employer deciding to do so. I couldn’t have been the only applicant, considering the job wasn’t that hard and the salary offer wasn’t bad, either. In fact, it was pretty good, and I knew it would go a long way to adding up to my savings.
Mixing with the excitement was nerves, of course. To handle that, I looked for my parents and had a quick talk with them about the job I just got hired to do and how I needed to be away from home for a while. They were surprised about it but were very supportive, telling me to do a good job and to pray for safety, especially when they found out that it would only be me and the little girl whenever the dad went away for his job. It helped eased the nerves a little bit, but a few still lingered, especially since I’d never really babysat for someone this far away. Still, I knew I could handle it.
What I wasn’t sure I could handle was the man who was my employer.
Peter Bartlett didn’t look like I expected him to. I expected maybe a middle-aged, soft-looking man with some love handles and an affable personality. I didn’t know why I was expecting that, though it probably had to do with him not detailing his job in the email.
What I got when he opened the front door was a blast of shock that still sent tingles up my spine until now.
He wasn’t soft-looking. In fact, he was hard all over, with muscles that covered every inch of him. He was also tall and large, with blond hair and dark blue eyes that looked at me like he was looking into my soul. It intimidated me at first until he began to explain that he was a Navy SEAL—which meant working out for work was basically his job. I’ve met some Navy SEAL guys before when they visited Spring Hills and volunteered at church during their stay there, and they had been just as hard and muscled as Peter. But he was older, and there was a certain aura surrounding him that let me know he was all man, with traces of any boy in him gone.
There was no denying that he was good-looking—in fact, he was so good-looking that it should have been illegal. Combined with the clean cut hair, the deep voice and the three o’clock shadow on his chin, he looked like some sort of devilish temptation himself.
And I was terribly, shockingly attracted to him.
It was inconvenient, really. But I’d been attracted to enough guys in college, only discovering after talking to them that they were all after the same thing: casual sex with me, which turned me off. They didn’t even bother to get to know me first. I was pretty sure whatever this was I felt for Peter was fleeting and would just go away with time.
Our interview had been short, and usually I needed more time to assess people, but I could tell right away by the way he talked that he loved his daughter. There was a certain tone he took on when he spoke about her, affection and fondness being at the forefront. If anything, that was enough to convince me to go for it, which was why I hurried in my packing and left again, taking our old Toyota instead of my dad’s pickup truck. Peter didn’t specify about transportation, but I was pretty sure he would be using his to get to base when he got called.
The drive back to Little Stone was pretty fast, and I was back just after noontime. Peter opened the door quickly even before I knocked, indicating he’d probably been watching through the window. Again, the sight of him sent a shiver through me, and attraction rang loud and clear. It was so potent, I could almost feel the air exude it. College guys were boys, all acting tough but never really quite getting there.
Peter was all man—virile, extremely masculine.
I couldn’t even meet his gaze this time, as they felt too intense and I just wasn’t ready yet. Peter didn’t seem to notice, taking my duffel bag and ushering me in. He told me he left some food for me in case I was hungry, then pointed towards the stairs.
“We have a guestroom at the far right, and it’s already prepared. Please make yourself comfortable, Rachel. I’ll just run and finish up the laundry, then come and check on you later.”
He did laundry, too? Oh, God. And he made spaghetti.
“And Isla?”
“She’s upstairs, too, still practicing her dance. You can knock on her door and introduce yourself, if you want. She would like that. She already knows she has a new nanny today.”
“Right.”
Suddenly I was too aware of him and how closely we stood next to each other. Getting affected by his body warmth, I quickly thanked him and excused myself by heading upstairs. The house was pretty much the same size as ours, though it only had four rooms and a more spacious hallway upstairs. I took it two at a time.
Faint music drifted through the hallway, and I tried to figure it out. It sounded classical. Before I could get to the guestroom, I passed by a bedroom with the door ajar, where the music seemed to be coming from. Curious, I took a peek inside.
There was a little girl there stretching her legs, and she was slender and willowy. She was wearing black tights and a loose shirt that had pink glitters in the shape of a star. Her hair was up in a bun with a pink ribbon in the center, and she was wearing ballet slippers. I watched as she kept stretching for a few more seconds before finally realizing that someone was watching her. Instantly, her head turned in my direction.
Gosh. From the back all I could see was blonde hair, but now that I could see her blue eyes…she was the spitting image of her father. The blue in hers were a lighter color as opposed to her dad’s, but their features were very, very similar. I got the impression that she was as observant as the man, too, with the way her gaze instantly gave me a quiet perusal.
Then she smiled brightly, striding towards the door and holding out her hand. Surprised, my hand automatically reached out to shake it. She then stepped back and kept staring at me.
“Hi,” she said. “Are you the new nanny?”
“Hello, Isla,” I responded. “Yes. I’m the new nanny. I’m Rachel Glasgow.”
“Cool,” she responded, cheerfully. “How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“I’m nine,” she said. “I think we’ll get along perfectly!”
Just like that, no questions asked. I guess her father did explain to her what my role was. Peter had told me that Isla’s last nanny had already retired, and she hadn’t needed one when she’d reconnected with her mother. I wasn’t sure if it was just me, but it seemed like there was another story altogether involving the mother. I could feel it in the way Peter’s voice clipped out when he spoke of her. I wondered if there was something still going on with them.
I watched as Isla made some stretches again. It was fascinating to watch her, especially now that she was facing me. Her eyes held a certain fire in them that told me she demanded a lot from her life. When she stood back up, she turned to me expectantly.
“Do you want to watch me dance? I’m practicing a piece for my ballet recital next week.”
“Sure,” I said, dropping my bag on the floor beside me. I entered the room when she ushered me in, her tiny hand closing around my wrist and pulling me towards the bed, where I sat on the edge. She then hurriedly stood on the open space, h
er body vibrating with an energy that I wasn’t able to comprehend. She pressed the button on her CD player, restarting the music.
To my surprise, when she got into position, the vibration I could feel from her stilled immediately. Then the music started, and she danced, and it was one of the most fascinating things I’d ever seen.
I couldn’t say Isla was the best ballet dancer in the world, considering she was only a kid. But she had such grace and passion that it made up for her minimal mistakes, and I knew that she’d be amazing in no time. I could tell this was her passion based on how she danced alone—and again, I couldn’t comprehend being so passionate about something like Isla was. I liked cooking and I liked studying, but I wouldn’t call them my passion, considering I never really dreamed of becoming a chef. Heck, I didn’t even finish school just for my studies alone. It made me admire Isla already, at the same time question my decisions. Again, I began to wonder where my life was going and what I was going to do with it.
Realizing Isla was about to dance to the next music, I forced my bothersome thoughts out of my mind and clapped appreciatively. Then I watched her jump into it right away. Her first dance had been classy and slow, and this second one had a jazz feel to it, with a more upbeat tempo. Her body moved and grooved, and I found myself smiling at the sass in this second performance. She was smiling brightly this time, her expression somewhat mischievous and perfect for the piece. She completed the dance with a twirl at the end, then went back to her original position standing on tiptoe with her hand in the air.
I clapped automatically, my mouth already opening to throw out praises at her. But before I could speak, another voice filled the room from the doorway.
“That was very good, sweetheart.”
And just like that, Peter’s voice instantly had tingles running down my body. It was crazy, and I braced myself for it and kept facing Isla. Because I was facing her, I was able to see her eyes light up at the sight of him. She grinned.