by Lincoln, Liz
It beat selling overpriced junk at the mall. Or overpriced popcorn at the stadium.
“I guess?” Way to sound super confident.
Jason typed something on his computer, tapped one last key with a flourish, and looked up. “I sent him a message asking for details. I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks?” What did Lainie and his wife need a nanny to do? Presumably watch their kids while they were at work, but was there anything else? Carrie didn’t know much about nannying, other than what she’d seen on TV and in movies, which were hardly a reliable source.
Jason set his laptop on top of the notebook. “I know it’s not teaching, but at least it’s working with kids, right? Maybe she’s into comic books too.”
Except Carrie was a teacher because she didn’t know what else to do with a science degree, since she didn’t want to be a doctor, either the MD or the PhD kind. She liked kids, sure, but it was science first. If Lainie needed a nanny, his daughter couldn’t be old enough for the science Carrie taught. At most, Carrie could probably teach her how to make a vinegar and baking soda volcano.
A noise of frustration bubbled up her throat, but before it could escape, Jason’s computer made a trumpet sound. He tapped the keyboard, then read something on the screen. As he did, his mouth turned up in a smile. “Perfect.”
“What?”
“Lainie says he’s looking for a live-in nanny. He’s negotiable on salary. Just wants to make sure his daughter’s in good hands. He’s emailing me the job description. But he’d love to set up an interview.”
Carrie pulled in a deep breath and held it. A live-in position. It did seem ideal, solving both her job problem and her housing problem. But did she want to be a nanny?
Did she have a choice?
“Let me call that other school first. I don’t want to tell your friend I can do it, then get the teaching job. And no offense to him, but I’d still rather teach.” Probably. She really hadn’t liked that school. But she could handle it for a year while she kept looking for a job back in the public school system.
“Sure.” Jason typed out his reply on the computer.
“I mean, if I get that, I shouldn’t have a problem finding a new place.” Though with the pay cut, she’d have to downgrade significantly. Probably a studio, maybe a one-bedroom. Definitely not a spacious two-bedroom like she was in now.
“Can’t you move in with Amy or something?”
Carrie and Amy had been friends since they were twelve, so Jason had known her almost as long as Carrie had. “She moved in with her boyfriend in June. So no.”
Jason’s computer trumpeted again. “He said sooner is better, and if there’s anything he can do to persuade you, he’ll do it. He trusts my sister more than a random stranger from a nanny service or Craigslist.”
Carrie picked up her beer and tilted it toward her brother, tapping it against an imaginary bottle for a toast. “So I’ve got that going for me.”
Chapter 2
Seth: It’s Seth, from the store Monday night. Thanks again for your help. You’re a lifesaver. Mads called a friend back home and figured it out.
Carrie: Glad it worked out. I’ve thought about you a lot the last two nights. Take it you’re from out of town?
Seth: Moved here a few months ago.
Seth: I thought about you a lot too.
Carrie: I’m out of practice. Are you flirting with me?
Seth: I am. If that’s not OK, I’ll again thank you for your help and you’ll never hear from me again.
Carrie: No, it’s fine. I might be awkward, but I’ll attempt to flirt back.
Seth: Awkward I can handle. A husband or not being into men, I find, is a deal-breaker.
Carrie: Not married. No boyfriend. Into men.
Seth: Noted. How do you feel about men who’d like to take you out on Saturday night?
Carrie: I’d like to say yes, but I’ll be at my parents’ all weekend. Next weekend?
Seth: Standing Friday night date with Mads. Out of town Saturday and Sunday. Can I interest you in a weeknight?
Carrie: Yes, but not right away. I have an insane amount of crap to deal with for the next few weeks.
Seth: Explains why you were so stressed the other night.
Carrie: That obvious?
Seth: No comment. My answer seems inappropriate for our first text flirtation.
Carrie: Now you have to tell me.
Seth: You’ll think I’m a jerk.
Carrie: I have a brother; I already know guys have sex on the brain 24/7.
Seth: Not 24/7. Sometimes we think about sports.
Carrie: Fair.
Seth: Still not telling you.
Carrie: What if I won’t go out with you unless you do?
Seth: You drive a hard bargain. When I noticed how stressed you were, I thought of several ways I could help you relax.
Carrie: I see.
Seth: Too far, wasn’t it?
Carrie: No. I…no.
Carrie: Appreciate this is 100% out of character for me to tell an essential stranger. But…
Seth: You have my attention.
Carrie: Dammit. My landlord is at the door—part of the crap I’m dealing with. I’ll have to tell you later.
Seth: Ooh, that’s cold.
Carrie: Nothing about me is cold right now.
Seth: Me either, darlin’.
Carrie: TTYL (sorry, too much time around tweens).
Seth: I’ll definitely talk to you later (and me too).
* * *
—
Stepping off the metal stairs and onto the tarmac, Seth switched his phone out of airplane mode. The late afternoon Florida sun beat down on the back of his neck, his navy polo instantly uncomfortable against his skin.
Although the plane was equipped with Wi-Fi, Tom Kelsey, the Dragons’ head coach, insisted they all turn off their phones. He wanted the players focused on either relaxing or studying the late changes to their playbook for tomorrow night’s game against Miami.
As Seth walked with his teammates to the chartered bus, he opened his messages to see if Mads had sent him anything. And, if he was being honest, to see if Carrie had finally gotten back to him.
He’d checked right before turning off his phone on the runway in Milwaukee. But her confession remained incomplete. He’d shot off a quick message asking if he’d get to hear her out-of-character confession, but so far no response. What if he’d pushed too hard? She’d admitted to being flustered. He’d meant his text to be light and flirty. What if she took it as creepy?
It had been too many years since he’d really tried to catch a woman’s interest. His relative anonymity was a refreshing change, but it also left him floundering in the dating pool, the fool who thought he knew how to swim but who in reality had had a life jacket keeping him afloat for years.
“You expecting some hot sexts?” Matt Baxter, the young starting quarterback, asked.
Seth sure as hell hoped so. Maybe not sexts, but at least flirting. Maybe even hot.
“Sadly, no.” He wasn’t telling Baxter. “Seeing if any crises popped up with my daughter. First week at a new school, and twelve-year-old girls are all drama.”
“Doesn’t her mom take care of that shit when you’re out of town?”
Seth hitched his carry-on bag higher on his shoulder. It was an innocent enough question. He didn’t know any other football players who were single dads with sole custody.
“Her mom’s not around,” he said, voice tight.
Baxter put his hand on Seth’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. That must’ve been hard for you, losing your wife.” The kid’s big blue eyes dripped with sympathy. “Shit, me and Celia’ve only been together a few months, and I’d rather get sacked a thousand times in a game than go through that.”
&
nbsp; He was so sincere, Seth couldn’t help chuckling. “Last I knew, Jessa was perfectly healthy. She couldn’t handle having a kid, so she split. Terminated her parental rights a week after I got drafted.”
“Oh. Shit. My bad.” Baxter’s cheeks pinked.
“No sweat.” Seth stood back so Baxter could precede him onto the bus. “She was a lousy mother. It’s the best thing for all of us. It was a poorly chosen one-night stand that ended up being the best mistake I ever made.”
Seth followed his teammate onto the bus.
“You like being a dad?” Baxter asked over his shoulder.
“Only thing I love more than football.” Seth chose a seat and dropped his bag onto it. Because they were all oversized men, the team hired enough buses that each player got his own pair of seats to himself. Trying to squeeze two 300-pound men into the tiny seats would be comically uncomfortable.
“Sorry, man.” Baxter gestured to Seth’s phone, which was still in his hand. “I should let you check on your daughter. And I’ll check in with my girl.” He waggled his phone at Seth.
Seth settled into his seat and opened his messages. Nothing from Mads, but his gut tightened when he saw a message from Carrie. Thinking of her set off a stirring in his groin.
Carrie: I suppose if I wait any longer, this goes from anticipation to just plain mean. Again, this is out of character for me…so imagine my face pink and very hot.
Seth preferred to think of her flushed and hot for other reasons. Like his hands running over the soft curves he’d zeroed in on the second he got in line behind her. He tried not to be a total Neanderthal, but he was still a single guy with a healthy sex drive. He appreciated a great pair of tits and hips he could get a good grip on.
Carrie had both.
Carrie: Last night, I had some…dreams about you.
Seth nearly choked on his tongue, then started coughing. His thighs tensed as desire jolted through him.
Fuck, that idea was hot. He pictured her in a plain white T-shirt, in a bed with all white linens. Waking up, thinking of him, aching. In his imagination, her nipples were hard and her hand moved under the sheet that covered her lower body.
Carrie: Apparently my subconscious thinks you have incredible skills.
Jesus. He barked another cough and had to shift positions to accommodate his growing hard-on. Only Lemalu, across the aisle from Seth, would be able to see him; Seth shot a glance over at his friend.
Just his luck, Lem was watching him with eyebrows raised and a wry smile.
“What’s wrong?” Lem asked, his voice all teasing. “Maddie accidentally send her sext to you instead of her boyfriend?”
That was all it took to kill Seth’s erection. The heat in his limbs was for a different reason now. “Fuck you.” Lem thought he was hilarious.
The idea of Mads talking to a boy about sex—hell, even thinking about sex—was panic-inducing. Yeah, it was an old-fashioned, overprotective dad reaction, but he couldn’t help it. When it came to his baby girl, he wanted the best of everything. And while he would never regret having her, he was keenly aware that her conception had been less than ideal.
“Girls grow up so fast these days.” Lem laughed, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“How old is Iris?” Seth asked, even though he knew the answer. She was his goddaughter, after all.
All humor fled from Lem’s face. “Suck it, asshole.”
Seth shrugged. “She’ll be twelve before you know it.” Lem’s oldest, of four, was only eight. He’d been smart to wait until he was a professional football player before marrying Sarah, the woman of his dreams, and reproducing.
Lem flipped Seth his middle finger. Donning his headphones, he leaned back in the seat.
Seth followed his friend’s lead, relaxing and getting lost in his music as he imagined all the skills Carrie’s subconscious might have bestowed upon him.
* * *
—
Seth flipped through the channels but there was nothing worth watching, so he switched off the TV and tossed the remote onto the other side of the hotel bed. He picked up his phone to check the time. Almost seven o’clock in Miami, which meant almost six in Milwaukee.
They had a team meeting at eight, so he had time to call Mads before she ate dinner and he headed downstairs. Because he also wanted to talk to Sarah, he called her and Lem’s house phone rather than his daughter’s cell.
“Hello?” Sarah answered.
“Hey, it’s Seth. Just checking in. Everything go OK tonight?” Mads had still been at his parents’ during his two preseason away games, so this was the first time he was leaving her overnight.
“Everything’s good,” Sarah said cheerfully. Fortunately, Mads liked her and the kids.
“Mads around?”
“She’s in the guest room doing homework. I’ll get her.”
“Thanks. We won’t be back until very early Friday, so I’ll pick her up Friday morning.”
“That’s what you said.” Her voice held a smile. “But I appreciate you reminding me several times. Like I haven’t been doing this for years.”
Point taken. “Sorry. It’s her first time staying with someone other than my parents.” He trusted Sarah, but he still had first-time jitters.
As he waited for his daughter to come to the phone, Seth propped his tablet on his knees and scrolled through tomorrow’s game plan. Miami had a new starting running back, and if his performance in training camp and preseason was any indication, he would give Seth and the rest of the defense a hellish workout.
“Hey, Dad.”
Seth switched off the tablet. “Hey, baby. How’s everything going with the Feu’us?”
“Good. Sarah made homemade pizza for dinner, and I don’t know what she puts in the crust but it’s amazing. She promised she’d send some home for you.”
Seth grinned. She sounded like his lighthearted girl again. “Looking forward to it. You have homework already?”
“Some reading for English. He wants us to get started on Red Badge of Courage.” She sighed the long-suffering refrain of tween girls. “It’s sooooooo boring.”
Seth chuckled. “I don’t remember finding that one all too fascinating either.” He’d never been a huge reader, except for articles about his favorite teams and athletes. That hadn’t changed. “Make you a deal. Suffer through that book and I’ll give you twenty bucks to spend on comics.”
“Deal!”
Pizza and comic books. His daughter wasn’t that hard to figure out.
“How are the rest of your classes?” he asked. “You meet anyone you’d like to hang out with? Everything going all right?”
Silence met his questions.
Was he being too nosy? He just wanted to make sure she was settling in at her new school. He wasn’t blind; just because he thought she was the most perfect girl in the world didn’t mean kids her age would. She was into drawing, comic books, and costumes. She’d carried a certain level of respect from her peers at her old school because she’d grown up with them, and because of who he was. But this was a whole new situation.
“It’s fine.” The tight, almost angry tone of her voice said things were anything but fine.
“Is there—”
“Sophie’s calling on my cell. I gotta go. I promised I’d talk to her tonight. Love you, Dad. Bye.”
“I lo—” Before he could finish, the line went dead. Mads was off to talk to her friend from Houston. Maybe. She could very well have made it up to avoid talking to him.
“I love you, baby,” he said to his silent phone. He dropped it on the bed and, chest heavy, resumed reviewing his playbook.
A little while later the phone beeped with a text.
Sarah: Give her time. Seventh grade is the hardest year for girls—at least it was for me.
Seth: Thanks. I just
want her to be happy. You know how that goes.
Sarah: I certainly do.
Since he was already in his texts, maybe he’d answer Carrie’s latest. The one that had nearly made him swallow his tongue. He still had fifteen minutes until the team meeting, and he couldn’t cram any more blocking schemes into his brain. If he didn’t know it by now, he wasn’t going to learn it tonight.
Seth: I might need you to tell me what skills your subconscious thinks I have. You know, to confirm if I have them for real.
He stared at the phone, waiting for her reply. Except he had no idea what she was up to. She could be out. She could already be in bed.
She could be in the shower, running her hands over her wet, naked body. Playing with her nipples and imagining it was him. She could—
Shit. He did not need a hard-on for his meeting. He thought about the biggest, hairiest teammates he’d played with and what they looked like wandering the locker room naked.
As always, that did the trick. Guaranteed erection killer.
He checked his phone again. Ten minutes until the meeting. He ran a hand over his head, tugging on his ponytail. He hated this antsy, restless feeling.
He was considering heading down early and taking the stairs to kill time when his phone beeped. He practically dove on it like it was a loose, live football.
Carrie.
The jittery sensation slipped away, replaced by a tightness under his skin.
Carrie: You have a while? Because dream-you had a LOT of skills.
Damn.
Seth: I have a meeting in a few minutes. Start with one or two and the rest will have to wait.
Carrie: It’s not a skill so much as…an observation, I guess? Your chest was as muscular as your arms. (For the record, I’m back to feeling like a human torch.)
Seth: That one is true. (I hope that’s b/c you’re excited, not embarrassed. I love that you’re sharing this. Confidence is sexy.)
Seth adjusted himself, letting his hand linger over his revived erection. The jolt of lust that shot to his toes startled him in its intensity. When was the last time he’d been this turned on by a woman he’d done nothing but talk to?