7+Us Makes Nine: A Nanny Single Dad Romance (Baby Makes Three)

by Nicole Elliot

  “So she didn’t elect to go on her own.”

  “It was that or throwing her into a jail cell for a while, and we weren’t going to let that happen. Not to your sister.”

  Not to the baby of the family.

  “That’s kind of you,” I said.

  “Yes. Would you imagine that?” my mother asked.

  “Not now, Mom. This isn’t about us anymore.”

  “The first unselfish thing you’ve said in years.”

  “I’m going to hang up this phone if you don’t stop,” I said.

  “We’ve enrolled her into a place on the outskirts of San Francisco. It’s why I called. The place is called Clean Slate, and as of now Hannah can have visitors during the hours of ten in the morning and two in the afternoon.”

  “Everyday?” I asked.

  “For now. I’m sure she would enjoy a visit from her sister who doesn’t make it home for the holidays anymore.”

  “Mom, I don’t come home-”

  Keep your cool, Catherine. This isn’t about you.

  “Clean Slate is supposed to be the most prestigious and best rehabilitation facility on the West Coast. They’re coming under a bit of fire lately due to Anya Petrov’s actions, but they can’t have a perfect record. We’ve been told that Hannah will be in great hands there.”

  “Wait, Jace Logan’s ex-wife?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said plainly. “Her.”

  That name kept popping up. Jace Logan. I sat on the edge of my couch and closed my eyes. I knew why my sister partied the way she did. I knew why she had turned down the path she did. And I felt responsible for it. One snappy comment I made as an angry teenager and my parents sunk their teeth into her. They started grooming my younger sister for the business. Surrounding her with tech talk and taking her to Dad’s work on her weekends when she wanted to be with friends. They took care of her college. Enrolled her into business and I.T. courses she hated. She partied all through high school and carried those into college, but I had no idea she was doing more than drinking.

  I should’ve been more vigilant.

  I should’ve checked in with her more.

  “Anyway, let us know when you’re going to go visit her. I think seeing her as a family would really lift up her spirits right now,” my mother said.

  “I’ll do that,” I said.

  “Thank you for picking up the phone call.”

  “Thank you for calling,” I said.

  Then I hung up the phone and walked over to my purse.

  I pulled out the card Natasha had given me and I turned it over to take in the number on the back. His name kept popping up and reinforcing the possibility of a lucrative job with someone like him. I chewed on my bottom lip. If I was going to make frequent trips to see my sister, then I would need the gas money. And gas alone in San Francisco would drain my savings account. I picked up my phone and flipped it open, then punched in the numbers on the back of the card.

  The phone didn’t even ring once before it was answered.

  “This is Jace.”

  “Mr. Logan? Hello. I’m uh-”

  “Who is this?” he asked.

  “My name is Catherine Faust. I hear you’re searching for a nanny and I was recommended to you by Natasha. Carter’s wife? She was his nanny and... I mean…”

  I wasn’t trying to marry the guy. I just needed a job.

  “You know Natasha,” he said.

  “I do. She’s a good friend of mine. We have a mutual friend who I used to work with at Lawrence Day. Emma.”

  “Ryan Aaron’s wife. Yes. I know them well. And you would be correct. My current nanny is set to retire soon and I’m in need of someone who can keep up with a more robust schedule than she can. Have you nannied before?”

  “No, sir. But I did work in a daycare setting for three years after college before working at Lawrence Day for three years. My degree is in Early Childhood Education.”

  “Isn’t that a bit redundant?”

  “No, sir. Education encompasses the whole of childhood. From infancy all the way through middle school. Early Childhood Education focuses specifically on children from ages two to eight, with certifications in Special Education as well.”

  “I see. And you studied this in college.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you enjoy being around children?”

  “More than anything. They keep me on my toes and are always full of light.”

  I heard him sigh on the other end of the line. I could feel the weight of his world pouring through my phone. I felt bad for him. For the pressure he must be under and the life he must lead. The longer the phone stayed silent, the more nervous I became. I didn’t understand how much I wanted to help a house like his until I’d actually called.

  And now, all I could think about was getting this nannying position with him.

  “Can you come in for an interview tomorrow?” he asked.

  “What time would you like to see me?” I asked.

  “Eleven in the morning. The Fireside Theater. My secretary will show you to my office.”

  “The Fireside Theater? Not your home?” I asked.

  “I work at the theater, Miss Catherine.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that. I thought you were an actor.”

  “I was. Until I bought the theater.”

  I felt like an absolute idiot.

  “Then I will see you at the theater at eleven,” I said.

  “Great. See you tomorrow.”

  Yeah. And maybe then I won’t stick my foot in my face.

  Five

  Jace

  “Put that over there. Yes. Right there. Right where my finger’s pointing. Yep. Is the banner hung up outside yet? Well, it needs to be. It should’ve been up there yesterday. When are the actors coming in?” I asked.

  “Today, sir.”

  “Good. Are the designated rooms for them clean? They need to be clean. Their first tour stop is here and they’re doing five shows. The most their doing in one single venue. Their rooms need to be spotless,” I said.

  “A cleaning service came in yesterday, Mr. Logan. But I’ll double-back and make sure nothing is out of place.”

  “Good. And where the hell are the promotions posters? They should’ve already been up around the city!”

  I felt like I was going crazy. A Broadway tour was making my theater their first and last stops on their countrywide tour and nothing was in place. Not the promotional posters. Not the banners. Not the kiosk sign out front. I liked my secretary. He was a good kid. But he really dropped the ball with this one. So I was stuck with cleaning up his mess while the torrential downpour of my life kept rolling across people’s television screens.

  “Mr. Logan?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “There’s a woman here to see you.”

  “Bring her in. Probably one of the actresses. Show her to the changing room and tell her the rest of her friends are welcome whenever they get here. And get them something to fucking drink.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Raking my hand through my hair, I went outside. I climbed up onto a ladder and helped the janitor put up the letters that boasted of the upcoming performances. No wonder we weren’t selling any damn tickets. No one knew about the damn performance! I had no idea how the hell I was going to salvage this issue. I could probably put up snippets of them rehearsing and make it a flash sale. Something that could quickly go viral in the community.

  “Mr. Logan!”

  “Holy sh-”

  I grabbed onto the ladder as my heart rate shot through the roof.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” I asked.

  “Sir, I’m sorry to keep bothering you. But the woman said she’s not an actress?”

  “Not an act-”

  Shit. I’d completely forgotten about that damn interview. I looked at my watch and saw it was ten minutes past eleven. Damn it. The entire day had been such a whirlwind that I didn’t stop to think once about that woman c
oming to interview for the nannying position.

  “Send her up to my office. I’ll be there in a second,” I said.

  “Mr. Logan, she said-”

  “Just fucking do it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I finished with the sign attached to the theater before I headed to my office. I wiped the sweat from my brow, cursing how I looked. Sweating through a damn suit. How professional. She’d probably think I was some sort of slob that couldn't take care of myself. I headed up to my office, grabbing a bottle of water on the way. But when I stepped into the quiet arena I’d told her to meet me at, I paused.

  Even from behind, she was a beautiful woman.

  Long legs. Long, wispy brown hair. Pale skin that reflected the dim lighting of my office well. She had these petite features except for what mattered. Her hips bloomed and her chest rolled. And when she turned around to look at me, her eyes sparkled. She was captivating. Her high cheekbones boasted of rosy red cheeks and her pouty lower lip begged to be nibbled on. The shadows cast over her face accented her hazel eyes, and it took me a second to reorient myself.

  Because her presence had smacked me across the face.

  “Mr. Logan?” she asked.

  “You must be Catherine,” I said. “Hello. And call me ‘Jace’. It’s fine.”

  I held out my hand and she took it. Her soft skin slid against mine and shot fire up my veins. Thank god I was wearing a long-sleeved button-down.

  It would’ve been embarrassing for her to see the goosebumps that trickled up my arm.

  “Have a seat. Are you thirsty?” I asked.

  “I’m fine. I had plenty of coffee this morning,” she said.

  “A wonderful alternative to water,” I said as I sat down.

  “So,” she said, “what would you like to know?”

  “Before we get into any of that, I want to be upfront.”

  “I prefer things to be that way,” she said.

  “I’m looking for someone who can be a live-in. There are times when I have to travel for work, and many times where I have very late nights. It would be easier for me to orchestrate those things if I had a live-in nanny I knew I could count on.”

  “If that’s an arrangement you’re looking for, then I’m fine with it. I have to admit that my townhome gets lonely sometimes. A house full of children to look after sounds like a very nice change of pace.”

  “You would be paid accordingly. Around the clock care deserves an around the clock type of pay.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that,” she said.

  “You weren’t worried about the pay,” I said.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because taking care of children is never about the pay. If it was, I wouldn’t have become a teacher.”

  I chuckled as I pondered her words.

  “Why did you become a teacher?” I asked.

  “That question is a little more loaded than you think.”

  “I’ve got time. Consider it one of your interview questions.”

  “Oh, great,” she said with a sigh. “Okay, so… um…”

  I sat there, watching her carefully as she found the time to gather her thoughts.

  “Without going into too much detail, I know there are trends with how upper-class individuals raise their children. And I’ve seen and experienced the effects of how that raising can go awry.”

  “I see. So you took your teaching position to try and correct some of those imbalances.”

  “Not correct. I’m not their parent. That isn’t my lane,” she said. “But showing children at such an impressionable age that there are other ways to live and act and be… that can be powerful. For me, teaching wasn’t just about test scores and homework. It was about trust. About giving those kids someone to talk to if their parents stopped trying to understand them.”

  “You said you experienced it first-hand. Do you come from an upper-class family?” I asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  I quirked an eyebrow as Catherine shifted around in her seat. I’d obviously hit a nerve.

  “To some it might,” I said. “But to me, it doesn’t. You’re an intelligent woman, Catherine. And I can tell your heart is really with the children. Which is something I want for my own children.”

  “Do you have any other questions for me?” she asked.

  “If I gave you the position, how long would it take for you to move in?” I asked.

  “A week. Maybe two? It would depend on where I’m staying in the house and what I can bring with me.”

  “There’s a bedroom downstairs in my home. It’s the only one downstairs. The hallway closes off with a door, and down that hallway is a bedroom with it’s own private bathroom. And the room’s a decent size. If you have couches or chairs, you could easily fit them in there.”

  “Sounds like that bedroom is the size of my townhome,” she said with a giggle.

  Such a beautiful sound. It had been a long time since a woman had laughed in my presence.

  Odd, the things people missed.

  “I would, of course, give you an advance on your first paycheck to help you get out of your lease. Assuming you wouldn’t want to be paying rent somewhere you weren’t living.”

  “What makes you think I don’t own it?” Catherine asked.

  “You were a daycare worker and then a teacher. There aren’t many apartments you could own in San Francisco on that kind of pay.”

  Her smile overtook her face as a boisterous laugh fell from her lips. She threw her head back, obviously at ease in my office. And oh, the happiness that filled the room. A smile slid across my own cheeks. A smile so big it made them ache. Catherine laughed without abandon. I liked that. Most women tried to hide their laughter, but not her. She didn’t seem to want to hide anything.

  Except the answer to the question about her family.

  “You’re very perceptive, Jace.”

  Holy fuck.

  My name.

  From her lips.

  “And you’re very intelligent, Catherine. But I do have one more question.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “What happened with Lawrence Day? Were you fired or did you quit?”

  I watched her lock up as a gate immediately shot up in front of her stare. Her warm hazel eyes grew icy in a split second, and I found out that I’d touched another nerve.

  “I was let go,” she said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You’re more than welcome to contact the school should you wish to have an answer to that question,” she said.

  “Why won’t you tell me why you were fired?”

  “Because there are some people in this world that want to keep their private life incredibly private.”

  She eyed me heavily and it made me clench my jaw. She knew who my ex-wife was. I didn’t like the fact that she’d been fired from her previous position. It made me wonder why. But that was the only downside to her I could find. It would be nothing to call up the school and request a reason on the basis of hiring her. But would that anger her somehow?

  Why did it care if she was angry? I was her employer. If she was angry, I’d simply find someone else to work for me.

  But something inside of me didn’t want her to be angry.

  “I understand the need for privacy,” I said.

  “I’m glad,” Catherine said.

  “And I want you to know that not everything that goes on within the walls of my home will be public information. In fact, I try to keep a good lid on the privacy of my home life. Especially with regard to my children. No matter what happens to my ex-wife on the television screen.”

  “That’s good to know. But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t do the whole technology thing much. I don’t turn on a television if I can help it.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like that,” I said.

  “Then this will really blow your mind.”

  I watched her reach into her
purse before she pulled out a hunk of plastic. She held it up in her hand and wiggled it around and I couldn't hardly believe my eyes.

  “They still make those things?” I asked.

  “If you can believe it. A simple prepaid cell phone. I hardly use it as well, to be honest.”

  “You have a flip phone.”

  “I do, Jace. It defines the utter hatred I have for technology.”

  “Can I ask why you don’t like technology?”

  She sighed heavily, and I got the strict impression that all of these personal questions were somehow intertwined into one or two very sordid details of her inner world. But I had no idea how experiencing a first-class background, being fired, and a flip phone were interconnected.

  It made me want to hire her simply to figure it out.

  “Nevermind,” I said. “You have the job.”

  “Wait, really?” Catherine asked.

  “Really. First and foremost, I want someone who will be passionate about my children. I’ll also need someone who can move in as soon as possible. I also want someone who’s qualified. You fit those three requirements. When can you start?”

  Six

  Catherine

  For the first week of my job, I stayed in the background. It gave me time to move my things in and sell the rest off. Most of the furniture I had in my townhome I didn’t want to take with me anyway. It was furniture I’d hauled off the street and cleaned up or furniture off those barter-and-sell websites that needed to be bleached before being used. Jace fronted the money I needed to break my lease, pay my landlord, and get a moving van for my stuff. I spent the first week of my job introducing myself to the children and setting up the room and bathroom I would be staying in.

  And ‘humongous’ was an understatement for the room.

  The bedroom was already equipped with a king-size bed. The satin sheets were luxurious and there were built-in bookcases that lined the walls for my use. Which was good, because I had a lot of books. That was my entertainment. Losing myself in the world of books. I had gardening books and crocheting books. Romance novels and mystery thrillers. I had books from college on child development and psychology books from my elective courses.

  And the bathroom.

  Oh, I would be spending a lot of time in that bathroom.