“I babysat a lot in high school. Before I went into the service.” Since the floor is mine, I go on. “I’m CPR certified, and I’m also a great swimmer—I’ve gone through multiple training courses in the water.”
“You were a SEAL?” Mason asks. Her mouth twitches. Does she think she’s making a joke?
It’s impossible to tell. Both of my interviewers are hard to read.
“Army,” I answer. “I swam in high school, and my time in the service also provided me with opportunities to stay fit in the pool.”
They exchange a quick look, the meaning behind it unreadable.
“This is an interesting career switch you’re looking to make,” Mason says slowly. “Most of our nannies are in college and work for us part-time. We have a few who are full-time, but none of them have the…extensive background you do. Many of them are pretty, yes, just like you.” She cocks her head. “You certainly don’t look like a former soldier.”
My head reels from the double whammy of inappropriate comments. First of all, is this a nannying agency or a modeling agency? No one told me being attractive was a prerequisite to getting a job here. Also, the whole thing about me not looking like a former soldier—I’ve heard it way too many times.
Not all women who join the service are super butch. We’re real people with diverse preferences and looks.
Thanks for reducing me to a stereotype, I want to say.
Of course, I check myself and smile instead. “I know the switch seems like quite the extreme. The truth is that I love kids, and I’ve always seen myself working with them once I left the military.”
Strangely, now that the people across from me have proved themselves to be biased and inadequate in some ways, I feel braver. I feel like the smarter and more empathetic person in the room.
“And, as I outlined before, I have a lot of experience that can be applied directly to nannying. I’ve seen combat. Because of that, I know how to stay calm in stressful situations. I value cleanliness and organization. Also, I know a good deal about nutrition—I have a lot of experience cooking for the wife back at home.” I grin at that.
Garcia clicks a pen and writes something down in my folder. Mason taps her finger against the table. The silence lasts for way too long.
I feel the heat creep into my face. Did I just put my foot in my mouth without knowing it?
Then, the two of them share another look. There’s a nod from Mason.
Garcia stands and offers me his hand. “Jayne, welcome to Prestige. We’re thrilled to have you.”
My chest nearly explodes from surprise and joy. “I… Th—thank you.”
I stand and shake first his hand, then Mason’s. They leave and come back with paperwork for me to sign and a packet of company policies to take home. The whole time, I can hardly believe it. More than once, I thought for sure I wouldn’t get the job—and now here I am!
“Have a great day,” I tell the receptionist as I breeze past her and into the elevator.
In the parking lot, the weather feels even better. Stripping off my blazer, I drop it on the passenger’s seat and call Amy.
“I got the job!” I say as soon as I hear the line connect.
“What? That’s awesome! I knew you would.”
With a laugh, I buckle my seat belt. “You’re going to have to dress me every day, by the way. This outfit is half the reason they hired me.”
“Nice. One point for me. Maybe I’ll start a blog on how to dress for interviews.”
“That would seriously be a good idea.”
“So, do they have a job for you yet?”
“No,” I answer. “They said they’ll call as soon as they do, and it’ll definitely be this week. I’m down for both semi-permanent jobs and drop-in ones. When is your last class?”
“Two.”
“See you at home? I’m cooking a victory meal.”
“I know you are,” she laughs. “And I’m making the margaritas. It’s time to party.”
Laughing as well, I turn the engine on. “We just partied yesterday.”
“And now it’s time to do it again. Can you stop by the store? Nothing goes better with tequila than guacamole.”
“Sure. See you at home.”
“Bye.”
Dropping the phone next to my blazer, I roll my window down and cruise into traffic, enjoying the feel of the salty sea air on my face. As I drive along, I pull the ponytail holder from my hair and let the copper-colored strands fly free.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I have a feeling that it’s going to be great.
Chapter 3
Benjamin
My bed shakes, and a high-pitched voiced fills the room. “Daddy, get up!’
Rubbing my eyes, I roll across the king-sized bed. Mia bounces on her knees at the edge, making the whole mattress shake.
“What time is it?” I ask, running a hand through my hair.
“Um.” She stops her bouncing to think about it. “The little hand is on seven. The big hand is halfway…and the really little hand is…is…”
I glance at the clock on my phone. Seven-thirty.
“Good job,” I tell her, hauling myself up to sitting. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed.”
“I did my hair.” She raises her face with a smile, showing off the two pigtails she attempted. Kay will have quite the job of getting those tangles out.
“Looks good, baby,” I tell her, ushering her down the hallway and to her bedroom. “You didn’t go in the closet, did you? You know that’s not safe. There are—”
“I know,” she shrieks. “There are things that can fall on me in there. You told me, Daddy.”
“Just making sure. Here. Put on that dress Kay set out for you and brush your teeth. Don’t forget the leggings. It’s not warm enough to go without them.”
“There’s no school today,” she reminds me. “It’s a teacher-not-work day.”
“A teacher workday,” I correct her with a chuckle.
Leaving Mia to getting dressed, I trudge back down the hall and get myself ready, listening the whole time for the door to open. My nanny has her own key and should be letting herself in any minute.
As I jump in the shower, I do a quick briefing of the day in my head. Meetings all morning. Golf at the country club in the afternoon—though that’s another meeting there. I just like to use my second favorite hobby as an excuse to multitask.
“You ready?” I call down the hall as I quickly towel off.
“Yeah,” Mia shouts back.
Dressed, I glance over the banister. “Hello?” Still no sign of Kay.
“Where’s Kay?” Mia asks from below my elbow. She has several dolls in her arms.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, unlatching the baby gate at the top of the stairs. Mia’s probably old enough that she could figure out how to undo it herself, but I keep it up since it serves as a reminder to her to not go downstairs by herself.
I check my watch as we descend the stairs. Ten to eight. My first meeting is in an hour downtown, and I have a dozen other things I should get done before then.
In the kitchen, I check the fridge. There are dinners for the next two days, courtesy of my chef, Ray, who comes a few days a week and meal preps. As far as breakfast, though, it looks like I’m on my own.
I consider calling Eddie in the guest house, where he permanently lives, and having him come make breakfast for Mia, but I decide against it. My butler is pushing seventy. The man needs to sleep in every once in a while.
“Waffles? Eggs?”
“French toast!” Mia sets her dolls on one of the chairs at the breakfast table nook.
“I don’t have time to make that this morning, honey. Maybe Sunday. You’ll like these waffles and eggs. I’ll cut up some cantaloupe, too.”
I check the clock on the wall. Eight. Kay should be here by now.
A gnawing feeling begins in my stomach. I try my best to ignore it as I scramble eggs and drop frozen waffles in the toaster,
but by the time I’m setting breakfast on the table, the sensation has doubled.
In my pocket, my phone beeps.
“Eat your fruit,” I tell Mia. She’s devouring the waffle and ignoring everything else.
“More waffles, Daddy? Pleeeeease?”
“Eat everything on your plate first.” Turning away to brew coffee, I pull my phone out. As I see the email, my hand freezes halfway to the filters.
Shit. Shit, shit.
It’s just as I expected. The email is terse and to the point.
Benjamin,
Having given it some deep thought I have decided it is best if I no longer work for you. I have come to care for you and Mia a lot—too much, I’ve realized. I would have given you everything, if only you’d have let me in.
Luckily, your issues are no longer mine. Consider this my resignation letter. I’ve already told the agency that I can’t work for you any longer. I didn’t tell them exactly why; I just said that there were differences.
I hope that you one day figure out what you want—for Mia’s sake.
Sincerely,
Kay
Screwing my eyes shut, I put the phone back in my pocket. Looks like I fucked up again. No surprise there.
“No, I don’t like fruit,” Mia is saying in a squeaky voice. “You eat it… No, you eat it.”
I look over to see she’s making her dolls fight over the cantaloupe.
“Eat the melon, Mia,” I snap, sounding grumpier than I want to.
She frowns and spears a cantaloupe slice with her fork. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I whirl back around.
Take a deep breath.
I do; it doesn’t help. My temples still pound, and I can’t figure out if I want to punch a wall or crawl back into bed. Either way, as much as I want to be angry with Kay, I know I can’t completely blame what went down on her. It takes two to tango.
What happened between us was supposed to be casual. That’s what I told Kay the first time we hooked up, a month ago. Apparently, I hadn’t been specific enough. I should have outlined the exact terms of our relationship and had us both sign a document. For not the first time, things had been lost in translation between myself and a woman.
Gritting my teeth, I turn back to face Mia.
“How would you like to come to the office with me today?”
Her eyes light up. “Really, Daddy?”
“Uh-huh. It’ll be fun.”
I have a secretary and two assistants working full-time. Between the three of them, they should be able to keep a six year old occupied until the nannying agency can send over a replacement.
This isn’t the first time this has happened. I know the way it’s going to play out by now, but that’s fine. The agency I use knows I have a high turnaround of nannies, but they don’t ask questions. They charge too much for them to do that.
It’s Mia I’m worried about. I have to tell her, yet again, that another nanny won’t be returning.
Sighing, I take the seat next to her. “Hey, Mia. I need to tell you something.”
“Okay.” She’s busy braiding a doll’s hair, not fully listening.
I touch her arm. “Mia. Pay attention, please.”
She stops braiding, though her lips twist. “I am.”
“Kay’s not going to be watching you anymore,” I say quickly, wanting to explain before Mia becomes upset. “She found another job.”
Mia blinks, hurt crossing her face. “But why?”
I rub her shoulder. “She really likes you, honey, but she didn’t plan on being a nanny her whole life.”
“What is she going to do?”
“I—I don’t know.” I purse my lips, hoping she doesn’t ask any more questions. I’ve lied enough as it is.
“But I like her,” Mia protests. Her bottom lip starts quivering.
I sigh. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Finish your breakfast, okay? We need to get going soon.”
Sullen-faced, she goes back to her untouched eggs and melon. I stand, annoyed with myself.
First Emmy. Then Lauren. Now Kay.
That makes three nannies I’ve gotten involved with—and all in the last two years.
It makes me look like a shitty person, but in my defense, it’s not all my fault. Prestige Nanny keeps sending over the hottest women, and I don’t have time to date. I’m a single parent running my own company. I’m lucky on the days I make it to the gym—and that’s saying a lot, since I have my own gym down the hall from my bedroom.
Maybe I need to try a new agency. The problem with that is that I don’t have time to register with a new agency. I need someone today.
Stepping onto the back patio, I close the door behind me and stare at my phone. I’ll just have to deal with whoever they send over next. It doesn’t matter how hot she is; the dick stays in the pants. For real, this time.
Pulling up the agency’s booking number, I make the call.
“Prestige Nanny. This is Rebecca.”
“Hi, Rebecca.” I cringe as I realize I talk to the agency’s booker way too often. I probably owe her a couple of Christmas cards at this point. “This is Benjamin Glen.”
“Oh. Yes.”
Just from those two words, I can tell she’s been expecting my call. Does everyone at Prestige’s office wonder just what I do to drive my nannies away? Do they assume I’m just mean, and that’s what makes the girls leave? Or do they know the truth?
“We received word of Kay’s resignation,” Rebecca went on. “Would you like us to send someone over today?”
“Um, yes, but I’ll need to interview her before I make a final decision.”
“Of course.”
I look through the glass doors. Mia has abandoned her breakfast and gone into the living room beyond. Remote in hand, she’s turned the TV to the cartoon channel.
“Any specifications for the new nanny?” Rebecca asked.
“No.”
Then, like a bolt of lightning, one hits me. It’s crazy, and I almost don’t want to say it out loud…but this is one of the most high-end nanny agencies in the world. If they can’t fulfill this request, maybe I really should look elsewhere.
“You know what?” I say. “There is one.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Can you send me a girl who’s a lesbian?”
“A…a lesbian, Mr. Glen?”
“That’s what I said.”
She daintily clears her throat. “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”
“Great. I’ll be at my downtown office all day. You can send the right nanny there.”
“Mr. Glen, just to be clear…I am not entirely sure we will be able to locate what you’re looking for.”
My irritation spikes. “Out of all the nannies you have, not one of them is gay?”
“Well, I’m sure they are. It is just that we don’t usually ask such personal questions.”
“This is San Bravado. I’m sure you have just what I’m looking for. All you need to do is start asking the right questions.”
There’s a long pause. “We’ll be in touch soon, Mr. Glen.”
“Wonderful.” I hang up, a sense of pride rising.
So, maybe I do a shitty job of controlling myself around beautiful women, but it looks like I might have just found a way around that problem. With a gay nanny, any advances I feel compelled to make will be pointless. She’ll be completely disinterested in me.
I smirk to myself as I go inside. I knew I’d find a way around this. I’m Benjamin Glen, a year shy of thirty and the billionaire founder of a megalithic software company. I worked myself to the bone through school, started a company from my apartment, then started raising my daughter by myself after her mother made her worst and last mistake.
I know how to get shit done.
This nanny issue? It’s nothing but a tiny hiccup in my perfectly designed life.
Chapter 4
Jayne
“Hello,” Amy calls as she hustles into the apartment and sets her backpack again
st the wall. “Super nanny,” she adds with a grin.
I roll my eyes. “Not yet.”
“But soon.” She walks into the kitchen and inspects the avocados I’ve just sliced into a bowl. “Nice. Looks good.”
“Here’s hoping. These cost an arm and a leg.”
“For avocados?” She pulls a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and takes a long swig.
“When you don’t have a job, they do.”
“You have a job.” Amy pokes me in the side.
“I have an agency,” I correct, mashing the avocados with a fork. “The job has yet to come.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all morose on me now.”
“I’m not.” I grin. “The first job is coming. They promised me that. I’m just stating the facts. I don’t have much money.”
“Join the club,” Amy laughs. “Being a student isn’t exactly cheap, even when the army is picking up the bill.”
We both know why we’re so broke. It’s the exorbitant rent. There’s no point in complaining about it, though. We’ve chosen to live here—me because it’s my home, and Amy because she loves the area. For the both of us, being by each other’s side is the best part of it all.
“How were your classes, wifey?” I ask, giving her a wink.
She shrugs. “Just another afternoon of old guys talking while I took notes.”
“You like this spicy, right?” I give her a questioning look as I reach for the cayenne.
“Yes. Please. Burn my taste buds off.” Amy sets the sparkling water down and grabs the unopened bottle of tequila from the top of the fridge. “Is it too early to start drinking? Wait. Don’t answer that.”
I finish making the guacamole as Amy mixes margaritas. The whole time, pop music blares from her phone and we shimmy around.
“We’re going to turn into alcoholics,” I comment, licking salt from my glass’s rim.
“Speak for yourself.” Amy dips a tortilla chip in the guacamole. We haven’t even made it to the table. Instead, we’re sitting on the counter, the snacks and margaritas between us. I take the last sip of my drink, enjoying the woozy feeling.
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