Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)

by C. M. Stunich

  I'm about to step forward and run my hands down all of that delicious perfection when a knock sounds at the bay window to my right and I jump, glancing over to find an older woman glaring at us through the glass.

  Shit.

  It's my great aunt, the one that decided she was currently unable to help my parents out with Bella and Grace, the reason that I'm here. My dad's too sick to deal with little kids right now, and if my parents didn't have me here, they wouldn't have been able to go to Scotland. My aunt suggested they call it off, but what happens if my dad ends up never getting to go? This is literally the first—and probably the last—time he's ever left the country. He deserves this.

  “Crap. Put your shirt on,” I whisper as I scurry to the door and Zay groans, leaning down to grab his discarded tee as I unhook the chain and crack the door. I don't owe this woman anything, but I'm afraid if she thinks I'm up to no good over here that she'll call my parents and bitch. I really don't want anything to interfere with their trip. “Hey, Monica.”

  I make myself smile even though the two of us have never really gotten along. Monica's always liked Ingrid more than me. She used to laugh and call me the ugly sister; I never found that to be very funny.

  “Brooke,” she says, sweeping some black-going-gray hair over her shoulder, eyes flicking up past my shoulder to Zayden. “Am I interrupting something?” I wave my hand dismissively although I sort of want to scream. Yeah, you kind of are.

  “Something I can help you with?”

  “Aren't you going to invite me in?” she asks as I bite back a sigh and step aside, watching as my aunt's eyes narrow on the sparsely decorated house. I want to scream that none of this is my fault, but I know she won't listen to me. The frustrating thing about her disapproval is that she knows Ingrid's whole story. How my sister graduated with an accounting degree, got a decent job at the bank, how she took a hefty portion of my parent's retirement savings to buy a house, promising to pay them back.

  How she got addicted and lost the house to foreclosure.

  How my mom went to pick the girls up from school and found they'd never gone, came over here and discovered my sister's note.

  She knows all of that and yet, here she is, judging me.

  Monica squeezes her red coat tighter around herself and pauses next to Zayden. They look weirdly opposite, one of them old and conservative and closed off, and the other young and wild and outgoing.

  “Zayden Roth,” he says, extending the hand with the book on it, taking my aunt's and shaking it firmly. He grins nice and wide. “I'm Brooke's nan—”

  “Boyfriend,” I insert because God, if Monica finds out about the nanny thing or the stripping thing or just, well, any of it then she'll definitely call my mom up and demand she fly home. I don't want to deal with the drama. “From Berkeley. He's up visiting,” I say because, again, I don't want to be judged for picking up a guy two weeks after arriving in town. Although that's really none of her business anyway.

  Monica looks at Zayden like she recognizes his picture from some FBI most wanted list.

  “Oh.” That's it. No nice to meet you or hi, I'm Brooke's aunt, Monica, just … oh. When her eyes swing over to the folding crib on the other side of the room, her dark brows soar. “I just came over to see if you needed any help with the girls—” several days after my parents leave town when she knows I've been struggling to find a job “—but I don't see them anywhere? Are they upstairs?”

  “They're at school,” I say, trying not to sound frustrated as she makes her way over to the sleeping baby. “That's Zayden's—” My mind scrambles for a way to describe his relationship to the baby. His charge? His steward? I don't know what nannies call the kids they watch.

  “That's my niece,” he says, sliding his hands into his front pockets in a way that draws my attention, sticks it to him like glue. The way he moves is so … fluid, like nothing really matters, like any problem can be solved with a wink and a smile. I'm envious, even though I don't think an attitude like that really works in life. Not for long anyway and not successfully. “Brooke isn't the only one who got strapped with babysitting duties.”

  “Oh?” Monica asks, pausing and curling her long fake nails over the side of the crib. She always gets these crazy long acrylics that used to scare me as a child. When I was ten, I was always refused to open Christmas gifts from her because I was convinced she was going to wrap up a spinning wheel for me to prick my finger on. “Your sister doesn't mind you taking her baby out of town? A child this young?” I try not to roll my eyes, but I think I do anyway. Who the hell does this woman think she is?

  “Brother, actually. And no. He's in South Africa with his wife. Her parents were in a pretty horrific car accident.” Monica stands up and lets go of the crib, moving away and reaching up to play with the gold cross around her neck. I've always hated this, but I definitely look more like her than I do my own mother. Like Bella, Monica also takes after our grandmother.

  Zay and I exchange a quick look, and I try to tell him with my eyes that I appreciate his coming up with a quick story. A weirdly specific story though … unless of course it's true? I've never asked where the kids came from or how he got involved with them.

  Holy crap.

  And I was just going to sleep with this man again? Am I losing my mind?

  “I didn't know they had cars in Africa,” Monica says and I feel my brows shoot up. She waves her hand in the air. “I thought it was all lions and zebras and safari grass.”

  “Um. Nope. There's, like, several million people that live in Joburg alone.” Zayden smiles as he says this, but his pierced brow is quirked up.

  “When do you pick the girls up? I was hoping to take them to get their nails done.”

  See what I mean? Grace is four. You don't take four year olds to get their nails done.

  “I don't think that's going to happen today, Aunt Monica,” I say, trying to be as nice as possible so I can get rid of the woman. “Maybe if you give me a call sometime later this week, we could work something out?” She nods, but I can tell she's not ready to leave yet. God, I hate busybodies.

  “Have you found a job yet?” she asks, but it's not like she really cares. If she did, she would've stepped up sooner to help out. It's not like I don't notice her designer purse and coat, her expensive haircut, the bracelets she's wearing.

  My mouth twitches as Zayden's cat comes creeping down the stairs and pauses with his bald face around the corner. After a moment, he hisses and disappears back the way he came. At least the cat has the right idea.

  “Still looking,” I lie as I pass a look Zayden's way. It's highly doubtful he'd be stupid enough to blow my cover, but you never know with people. He just smiles at me with that sexy mouth of his, lacing his fingers behind his neck. The move makes his shirt ride up a little in the front, flashes me a tight belly with just a trickle of hair and a ring through his belly button. I never thought that kind of thing would look good on a guy, but he manages to pull it off.

  I take a deep breath and drag my eyes away, doing my best not to think about how I'd like my mouth down there, kissing across the flat bridge of skin above his waistband, curling my fingers around the denim and pushing it down.

  “Well, Zay and I were just on our way out, so …”

  “Isn't the baby sleeping?” Monica asks, gesturing back at the crib with a hand, her pale brown eyes taking in the room as she sneaks over to the bathroom and peeks in, takes a long lingering look at the kitchen, pauses at the sliding glass door to the back and stares out at the pack of chihuahuas/hairless rats that are cowering under the awning. There's a doghouse out there with a pile of freshly washed towels in it, but apparently they'd all rather sit here and stare at us.

  Before I can come up with an answer for that, Zay's leaning into the crib and hefting Sadie up and onto his shoulder, rubbing her back with his colorful hand. I hate the way my heart jumps and shudders when I watch him holding her like that. Eww. No. I'm too young to be thinking about how sexy
a guy looks with a baby on his shoulder.

  “She'll fall right back asleep in the car,” Zay says as he smiles at Monica. “Sorry you stopped by just to see us on our way out. But if you want to spend time with the kids, maybe you can watch the whole brood for us on Saturday? Brooke and I were planning on a date before the sitter cancelled. What do you say? Six kids, think you can handle that?”

  “Six?” Monica asks, blinking mascara laden lashes at him. “There are six?”

  “My four. Her two. If I can handle it, I bet you'd have no problem.” He winks at her and bumps my aunt with his shoulder. Her shocked expression is so worth it. “Let's say you meet us here around seven?”

  “Well, I don't know—”

  “Perfect.” Zay leans in and kisses her on the cheek, and Monica takes a shocked step back. “Thanks Aunt Monica. Can I call you Aunt? Brooke and I are so damn close, we'll probably be getting hitched before you know it. Come on, we'll see you out.”

  He moves towards the door and opens it, waiting for the two of us to follow him. I'm not sure what he's up to, but I give him a look. Zayden remains unfazed as I lock the door behind us and walk Monica out to her fancy black sedan. She climbs in, but doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

  “We better get in the van,” Zay whispers, tickling my ear with his breath. I can smell him when he's this close, like fruit and spices, like a warm house on a cold day. My skin jumps and prickles, all the places I want him to touch flashing neon in my mind.

  I don't intend to actually go anywhere with him, but I climb in the car anyway and wait as he straps the baby in. Monica's still not gone when Zay gets into the driver's seat and starts up the engine.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as he backs us out of the driveway and waves at my aunt. I watch over my shoulder as we pull away and see that she's on her phone. Admittedly, that kind of freaks me the hell out. She could be calling my mom. What time is it in Scotland right now? I have no fucking clue. “You don't think she'll actually show up and watch all the kids, do you?”

  Zay shrugs.

  “Why not? It was worth a shot. Besides, if she does show up, think of all the fun we'll have together. It'll be a big sacrifice on my part, but I'm always willing to let you try a little exhibitionism with me, see if it's your thing.”

  “Uh-huh.” I cross my arms over my chest and turn to look at him, glancing around the van at the scattered toys, at the stickers spread across the backs of the seats. “Whose van is this?”

  “My sister-in-law's,” he says as he pulls up to the intersection and turns right.

  “So,” I pause and think for a second. “That story you told my aunt, it was true? The kids are all related to you?”

  “Yup. All four of them.” Zay doesn't look at me as he follows some predetermined route he's got in mind. I blink at him a few times. “Don't ask why anyone would want to breed so many monsters so close together. I haven't the slightest fucking clue.”

  “How long have you been their nanny for?” I ask, because he did say he was going back to Vegas soon, didn't he?

  “About, uh, seven days?” he says, like it's a question even he doesn't know the answer to.

  “And … you were a nanny back in Vegas then?” There's a long pause where Zayden reaches down to scratch at his belly, eyes focused wholly on the road. Before he answers, he reaches over to the radio and turns up some stupid chart-topping pop song.

  “Not exactly,” he says with a slight crinkle of his eyebrow. It makes his piercing dance and sparkle in the sun, but I'm not paying attention to that. Nope. Not looking at the full, ripe shape of his lips, the way his tattoos emphasize the muscular lines of his throat.

  “If you weren't a nanny back in Vegas, then what did you do?” Zay lifts up a finger and points at his nose ring.

  “Body piercer Zayden Roth at your disposal,” he says, flashing me a giant smile as I feel my heartbeat pick up speed. This time, though, it's from irritation.

  “Body piercer?” I ask, thinking that particular title suits him a hell of a lot better than nanny. Then again, he seems so good with the kids. It was one of the reasons I took a leap of faith in the first place. “Zayden, a body piercer is not the same thing as a nanny. Why did you tell me you were one? To try and win my trust?” I feel like getting pissed now, shoving up the sleeves of my black button-up as I turn in my seat and put my legs in the space between us.

  “What? No. No. Hell, I was just fucking around with you, but as soon as I said the word nanny, you jumped ship on me and got all cute and doe eyed.”

  “Doe eyed? I do not get doe eyed. And how are you acting like this is my fault? If you weren't really a nanny, you should've told me that in the first place.” I sit back and lean against the window, trying not to hyperventilate. It hits me suddenly, looking at this guy, that I just lost my virginity to him. And I don't even know who he is. Like, at all. “Why … why would you lie about that?”

  “It was a joke,” Zayden emphasizes as he takes us past the park and turns left toward town. “My brother called and begged my ass to come up here and take care of his kids.”

  “So, you have other experience caring for children then? Babysitting friends' kids? Taking care of younger siblings? Oh my God, do you have your own kids?”

  “Um, no, no, no, and definitely not. I'm sort of playing it by ear here. It's not nearly as hard as everyone makes it look.” Zayden lifts up his phone; it's covered in some brightly colored skin with a Japanese anime girl on the back of it. I pinch my lips tight. “When you've got a smartphone, what can't you do? I ask and it tells. Easy as pie.”

  “I think children are a little more nuanced than Google can get across, Zayden.” I'd wonder if that was his real name if I hadn't actually asked to see his driver's license when I first 'hired' him. “You let me believe you were qualified to handle this. I've been leaving you with six children. Six. I've been trusting you with my nieces.”

  “Duh, yeah. And you know what? That's one of the reasons I decided to do this in the first place. You picked me up at a park, Brooke. For all you know, I could be some sort of crazy person. If you were willing to hire me on the spot, I didn't know what else you'd do. Not all guys are as easygoing as I am.”

  “Is that why you took my virginity then?” I snap, feeling my skin get itchy and hot with irritation. “Because I might make a stupid, naïve decision and give it to the wrong person?” I pause and wrinkle my forehead. “Is this a boy band playlist or something?”

  “Like you don't enjoy old school Backstreet Boys or *NSYNC.”

  “I'm almost a decade younger than you. I didn't listen to either of them.”

  “Weeeell, then maybe that's your problem?”

  “My problem is that I don't listen to boy bands?”

  “Your problem is that you're too judgmental, but also not judgmental enough.”

  I scoff at him and turn the stereo off with the palm of my hand.

  “You don't know me at all, Zayden Roth.”

  “I'm intuitive,” he says, pointing at his temple with the finger that has the letter E tattooed on it. He pretends to pull a trigger and makes a boom sound. I've never met anyone in my life with such over the top gestures. I'm not sure what to even make of them. “I can sense your pain. You're damaged but also sweet, like you still want to believe the world has some good in it. That's why I decided to help you out. The last thing I'd want to see is someone like you get hurt. This planet's shitty enough as it is without watching another person get swept under the rug of shit.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I snap as I sit up straight. “I don't need you looking out for me. And I sure as hell don't need a body piercer—” at least his shirt makes some semblance of sense now “—pretending he knows how to take care of my girls. Take me home and get your stuff. Go back to wherever it is you came from.”

  Zayden laughs and shakes his head, running his hand across the shaved side of his head.

  “Please. Relax and let's go get some ice cream.”

/>   “Ice cream?” I ask incredulously. “We're on our way to get ice cream. What … what are you thinking? You just admitted you lied to me about being a nanny. You had sex with me.”

  “You seem really focused on the sex thing, Brooke. Relax. It's totally natural what happened between us.”

  “Ew. Dear God, please don't talk like that, okay? That was … wow. What a horrible mistake. And I was going to do it again,” I mumble under my breath. Zayden leans theatrically towards me and then punches the stereo back on.

  “Wait, wait … what was that, Smarty-Pants? See, I knew it. You want to fuck me again.”

  “Take me home,” I say, turning the music off again. “I'm not going to get ice cream with some guy who lied to me. I've had just about all I can take with liars in my life.” Zay sits up, but he doesn't make any effort to turn the car around, instead taking us in the direction of Old Town. It's a cute area if you're a tourist, but after one walk around to look at all the local hipster shops, you're pretty much done. Maybe there's an ice cream place there now, but I wouldn't know since I haven't had a chance to head down there since I got back. “Zay.”

  “I'm not just some guy anymore,” he says as he taps his hand in time to some awful song that says girl and baby every three seconds. “I'm your friend, and as your friend, I'm telling you that you need ice cream like, stat.”

  “Are you buying then? Because I don't have any money. What little I scrounged up in tips last night is already allocated for bills.”

  “Whoa. Are you adulting all over me right now? Sure. I'll buy you some ice cream, but I want you to listen to what I'm saying. Relax. Let me help you out, okay? Where are you gonna find a replacement nanny before work tonight?” I glance at the clock and get a kind of nervous flutter in my tummy. Last night wasn't so bad, I guess, but what if there are more people there tonight? How am I going to handle an entire crowd?