Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)

by C. M. Stunich

  And yet, all I can do right now is hope that Brooke will let me fuck her again when she gets off of work. How messed up is that? But every time I look at her—every time—I see that image of her on the floor, her back pressed to the wall, one foot propped on the step, the other leg open wide. I can see her panting chest, her moist lips, the glitter of liquid on her inner thighs.

  “The doctor says the average life expectancy from the onset of symptoms is about eight years. It's been just a few months since he was diagnosed, but that means by the time I'm thirty,” a pause, “by the time I'm your age, he'll be gone.”

  Brooke takes a deep breath and threads her fingers through her hair. I see now. It makes sense why she's watching the kids, why her parents haven't stepped in. The whole thing makes her sister, Ingrid, seem like even more of a douche-y bitch.

  “Anyway, sorry. My fault. I shouldn't have brought that up,” she says.

  “Naw, that was totally me. Hey, relax a little. You made it to the end of the week. Yay.” I pretend to wave a little flag and Brooke smiles. I can see the expression from the corner of my eye. I like the way her lips curve up, giving her this sexy porn star look in the mouth while her big, black glasses look dorky as hell. “One more night of work and you'll be off for a few days. Hey, what do you want to do on Saturday?”

  “Saturday?” Brooke echoes, like she's completely lost.

  “You know, your aunt's babysitting and all that. You want to hit that art festival in Old Town or something?”

  “Arts Alive?” Brooke asks and then starts gathering her hair into a ponytail. It takes her some serious effort because it's all caught up under her ass. I'd sure like to be caught under this chick's ass. “I don't even know if Monica really will show up. She hasn't contacted me since.”

  “If she does, you want to go? I could show you some of my favorite haunts down there.” I pause and let a smile tease my lips. “Some of the best places to fuck without getting caught.”

  Brooke's mouth drops open as I take a left towards the restaurant, pulling into the parking lot without hearing a response from those pretty lips of hers.

  When I park the car and turn to look at her, she's finally closed her mouth and is staring at me like I'm insane.

  “Who says I even want to hang out with you on Saturday? I might make other plans.”

  “With who? The endangered sea crustacean chick? Dan the Douche? His ex? Come on. I'm the only friend you've got in town right now.”

  “I just moved here,” Brooke says defensively, but I just shrug my shoulders loosely. Straight-up, I don't know why I'm hounding her anyway, asking her out on a date. I mean, it's not like I'm generally opposed to taking girls out, but never one I've felt this magnetic sort of a connection with. This could be the end of me right here. “Sure, why not? I always loved Arts Alive. It's one of the few things I ever liked about this place.”

  “Amen, sister,” I say, reaching out and giving her a tap on the shoulder. Brooke smiles and I toss her a wink, climbing out of the car and heading around to the sliding door to grab Sadie. I carry her inside with the car seat and then get her set up in a wooden high chair.

  “Do you think she'll be okay in there while we eat?”

  “Bam.” I produce a bag of that Gerber puff cereal crap from Sadie's diaper bag. I Googled how to go to a restaurant with my baby and got all sorts of sweet tips. “Lookie there. Zay plans ahead, Smarty-Pants.”

  “Nice move. I'm still figuring all the kid hacks out. My mom gave me a sort of crash course last week, but it didn't even begin to cover everything.” Brooke pauses and flattens her menu out on the table. “Bella's been crying at night.” A pause. “Well, not since you started staying over, but before that. And Grace … has she snuck into the yard to play hide and seek yet?”

  “Oh yeah. Twice while you were at work the other night. It's so creepy, total horror movie-esque.”

  Brooke laughs.

  “Yeah, exactly. I actually get scared to go out there and look for her, like I'm afraid the next time I see her she'll look like the zombie girl from the first episode of The Walking Dead.”

  “Ah, I knew it. You like horror stuff? Zombies?”

  “Definitely. The darker the better. What about you? I figured since you liked pop music …”

  I wave my hand and Sadie giggles. I think she digs all the colors on my arm. I read that babies her age dig movement and bright things. Guess I'm a lot of both, huh?

  “I love horror shit. Especially in video game form. You play?”

  “I was a huge World of Warcraft girl back in high school.” I lean over and give her a high five. Brooke accepts it with a laugh and smiles. “I haven't had much time to play games since I graduated though. Biostatistics is kind of a tough field. I worked my ass off to get into that masters program at Berkeley.” She looks down at the table for a moment and her eyes flutter with emotion. I feel my own mouth tighten and start getting pissed on her behalf. So not cool. A girl like this, with everything in the world to live for and here she is, cleaning up somebody else's mess.

  If I ever see her sister, Ingrid, I might just up and deck her in the face.

  “You'll make it,” I say, pretending to shoot a basketball. “Slam dunk. I can just tell.”

  “Thanks,” Brooke says with a small laugh, leaning back against the cracked green leather of the booth. I still think she has no idea what she looks like, how her arched brows give her this permanently curious expression, like frames for the bright intelligence of her eyes. Long lashes, full lips, that long dark hair that I haven't had a chance to fully play with yet … Yep. Total package.

  I drum my fingers against the tabletop.

  “What do you think you'll do with the kids while you're working? After I leave, I mean.”

  Brooke shakes her head, giant ponytail flopping.

  “No clue. I guess if Monica really does come through tomorrow … and then maybe I can make it until my parents get back from Scotland. My dad isn't going to be able to do much, and I'd hate to put that extra burden on my mom, but if the girls are asleep most of the time, maybe she can handle it?”

  “When do they get back?”

  “About two and a half weeks from now.” I raise my eyebrows, but I get it. Brooke's dad is sick; this could be her parents' last chance to get away together. “If my mom can't do it, I guess I'll hire a sitter.”

  “Not off of Craigslist though, right?” I ask as I point at her with a tattooed finger. The letter E stands up sharply between us. Brooke gives me a sexy little smile and puts her hands on the table, leaning forward enough that I can see straight down her shirt to the lacy gray bra she's wearing. Damn.I feel my cock respond instantaneously, rising up to meet my tight pants with a vigor even I wasn't sure he was capable of. Oooouch. Guess we're both Brooke Overland fans.

  I drop my hand to my lap and try to clamp down on the rush of need—literally. I press hard and take a deep breath, pretending that I'm just unfolding my napkin in my lap.

  “You didn't really offer to help me because you were worried about me, did you? I mean, you wanted to fuck me, didn't you?”

  I feel my mouth turning up in a grin.

  “Listen up there, Smarty-Pants, I'm not the one that froze up like a deer in the headlights in the middle of those child infested wood chips. Don't think I didn't notice you gazing at me like that. If anyone was gunning to fuck anyone, it was you lookin' at me.”

  “Okay, fine,” Brooke says, leaning even closer, her hair trailing over her shoulder onto the tabletop. “But when I asked you to be the nanny, you were just thinking about getting in my pants.”

  “Nope.” I lean in towards her, matching her stance. “I was legit worried about you. Little naïve there, Brooke Overland, especially for such a Smarty-Pants.”

  She grins at me and I like the expression so much that I lean forward just a little bit more and press our mouths together, my tongue sliding in and capturing her before she can pull away from me. There's a moment of hesitation o
n her part, but then she starts kissing me back and I smile.

  “Stop it,” she moans when she drops back into her seat. “Don't smile while we're doing that.”

  “Why not?” I ask as I prop my elbow on the table and drop my head into my hand. “It's fun. Don't you like to kiss people? You might be never-been-fucked, but don't tell me you're never-been-kissed, too?”

  “I kissed people,” she says as the waitress stops by to take our order and Brooke flushes at her bemused smile. Clearly, she saw the tongue tangle that was happening over here.

  We both skip the coffee and head straight for the good stuff, getting fresh fish and chips and a couple of sodas. Nice. I like a girl that can eat. Weirds me out when you people order salads and shit. What the hell is that all about?

  “Who?” I ask when the waitress leaves. Brooke raises an eyebrow and I just seriously want to pierce the fuck out of it. Hey, I mean, it is my art. I know it's kind of a weird art form to have, but what can I say? I like the human body. I like to enhance it the best way I know how: with needles and metal. Brooke … she's so pretty, all I really want to grab is that perfect eyebrow. Wonder if she'd let me if I asked? Or do biostatisticians not get pierced?

  “Who what?” Brooke asks as she smiles over at Sadie. The kid's currently occupied with dropping her head back and making a small O with her mouth as she stares at the ceiling. Damn. I think I actually like babies. Kinzie … you know, I'm working on learning to like her.

  “Who did you kiss?” Brooke makes a face at me and tilts her head to the side, hair swinging.

  “Why do you care?” I shrug my shoulders as she sighs and looks up at the ceiling like Sadie.

  “Just curious. Were you one of those goody-goodies that only kisses like, one guy during high school?” Brooke drops her gaze back to mine and narrows her eyes.

  “I kissed Ingrid's boyfriend once. Well, more than kissed. We almost screwed, but then she came home and caught us. Maybe I owe her all of this to make up for that?”

  I laugh and Brooke smiles again. I like the expression. I want her to keep talking just so I can see that right there, that press of her lips, the little dimples she gets in her cheeks.

  “Look at you, you bad girl,” I say, giving her a goofy side smile. “Cheating with your sister's boyfriend. So much hotter than screwing the nanny.”

  Brooke laughs again and wads up her napkin, tossing it at me as I chuckle.

  “When you put it like that, it sounds creepy as hell. You're the old guy here you know. Seven years older. If anyone's the creeper, it should be you.”

  I slap a hand to my chest.

  “Hey, I was complimenting your choice to screw the nanny. And then you go and insult me? So not cool, Brooke Overland.”

  She pokes me with her foot under the table and I give her a slow, lazy wink. I feel … I don't know what I feel right now, but it's not a normal feeling. It's … weird and warm and fuzzy. I think I'm getting … like, butterflies or something? Do dudes get butterflies? What the fuck?

  I sit up and feel my half-lidded contentment sliding away from my face. Brooke notices and gets stiff, sitting up suddenly in her seat.

  “What's wrong?” she asks, a note of panic in her voice. Aww, man. Now I'm scaring the poor girl. It doesn't get anymore awkward than this.

  “I just … I need a second.” I gently scoot Sadie away from the table and make a quick rush toward the men's room, barricading myself into the kitschy blue and white bathroom. A fake fish stares at me from the wall as I try to catch my breath, turning and looking at myself in the mirror. I look like the same guy, but I feel weird.

  I think I'm getting my first real crush.

  I curl my hands around the sides of the porcelain sink, the bright colors of my tattoos looking almost garish in the fluorescent lighting. When I glance up, my face looks downright friggin' morbid. Jesus, Zay, get a goddamn grip. I flick my lip piercing with my tongue and stare myself down.

  I'm a twenty-nine year old body piercer/nanny who's currently obsessed with a girl that's all wrong for him, that likes angry music, that studies something he can't pronounce, with two inherited kids, that's way too young for him.

  But that he really likes. That he wants to … like, claim or something? Pee on? Act like some wild buck on a nature documentary, start fighting off other dudes with his horns.

  Fucking fucknuts.

  That's what it is.

  Brooke Overland, I don't know the girl for shit, but … I've got a crush on her. A big one.

  That's going to be a problem.

  Zayden is definitely an … interesting person.

  After he comes back from the bathroom, he acts normal, but I can see that something's bothering him. Makes me want to figure it out, try to unravel his mysteries. But … I don't have time for that. We eat our food and I notice he leaves the waitress a pretty generous tip. My dad once told me you can get a good idea of a person's character by how they treat waitstaff at a restaurant.

  That makes me smile a little.

  We start picking up the kids, pinging between schools until the whole brood's collected in the back and Kinzie and Bella are fighting over a Monster High doll. This particular one looks like a centaur, with a purple horse body and a ponytail high on top of her human head. I have no idea what the appeal is, but they're both screeching at the tops of their lungs over it.

  “Yo,” Zayden says loudly as we pull into the driveway. He stops the car and turns around in his seat, giving the girls a look with raised brows. “Whose toy is it anyway?”

  “It's mine,” Bella says as she yanks the doll away from Kinzie. The other girl lets out a bloodcurdling scream that chills me straight to my core. Suddenly, I feel a burst of panic in my chest. This is going to be my life? For the next … fourteen years? What if I stay here and put years of my life into raising these girls and then Ingrid shows back up? Worse: what if she comes and goes as she pleases, flitting in and out and making things even harder.

  I feel sick all of a sudden.

  I rip my seatbelt off and shove the door of the van open, practically tumbling out onto the pavement. I figure Zayden got to have his own personal freak-out at the restaurant, so it's my turn now. I move quickly away from the screaming and fighting and let myself in the back gate, kicking it closed behind me and then jogging my way over to the tire swing.

  With a quick exhale, I flop onto the wet black rubber and grab hold of the chains, kicking off of the ground and then letting my head fall back, hair trailing behind me as the swing starts to sway.

  Looking up, all I can see are the thick branches of the trees, heavy with green needles even in winter. I can hear the faint sound of the front door opening and closing and then … nothing. No kids, no club music, no lectures. Just quiet.

  I breathe in and out slowly, letting the massive tire hold my weight as I lay back and let go of the chains. The swaying motion continues, the branch above me creaking and shedding droplets of dew.

  I let myself get so zoned out that I don't hear Zayden's footsteps until he's right beside me, sitting down in the grass behind my head. I let myself drop a little further back, so I can stare at him upside down.

  “You okay?” he asks me, holding the baby monitor in his lap. I can hear the faint murmur of a TV through it. Sadie must be in her crib in the living room.

  “I'm alright,” I say as the swaying starts to slow. Zayden lifts up his foot and uses the white sole of his Converse to push against the rubber; I start to swing again. “I just … that fighting is enough to make anybody lose their shit. And then I thought about how this is my life now. I'm not here on vacation like you are; this is it. Ingrid's been gone for about a month now, and my mom tried, but she can't handle the girls and my dad's health problems all by herself.” I sigh and close my eyes. “When Ingrid does call, she doesn't even want to talk to her own daughters; she has no plans to come back anytime soon.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I hate this house, but I like the yard at least. It's peace
ful back here. But then, that's kind of the problem. This whole town is peaceful and laid-back and easygoing. I don't want that. I want exciting and new and fresh. Once I get my degree, I suppose I can move. But then I'll be taking the girls away from dad in his last few years …

  I put the heels of my hands over my closed eyes and I want to scream. But then, I don't want Zayden to hear it. Any of it. It's not like this is his problem.

  “Is any of this …” he sounds slightly tentative which is weird. I haven't seen the guy be anything in the realm of tentative since I met him last week. “About me perchance?”

  I almost smile.

  “Perchance? Do people still use that word?”

  “Fuck yeah they do,” he says and I hear a rustle of sound as he gets up. I keep my eyes closed and then feel a warmth fluttering against my lips. “Do you have a crush on me, Brooke Overland?”

  “Why would I?” I ask, but when Zay spoke, I could feel his words against my mouth. The sensation almost makes me want to tell him yes. “Do you have a crush on me?”

  No response. But then he's pressing his lips to mine and sliding his tongue deep, tasting me as I lay on my back on the tire swing, eyes closed, the sharp breath of winter in my lungs. The air smells fresh and wild back here, a far cry from the cloistered confines of that houses. Maybe I could save up enough money and the girls and I could move? But I can't spend too much time thinking about that because Zayden is sliding his fingers through my hair, supporting my head in his hand and bringing my mouth tighter against his.

  It's a different feeling to kiss upside down. I feel Zay's tongue teasing along the length of mine, gliding across the top in a way that's just not possible the other way around. It almost makes me laugh.

  “Do you have a crush on me now?” he jokes when he pulls back. I open my eyes and stare at his sexy chin and the faint dusting of stubble there.

  “I'm starting to feel better, if that's what you're asking.” Zay sits back as I turn around and lay across the swing on my stomach. “Your kiss definitely has the power to distract.” He gives me a crooked smile and stands up, reaching down to tug gently on my ponytail. Makes me wonder what'd be like if he had a firm grip on it while he fucked me from behind …