by Lincoln, Liz
To his credit, Seth hid his wince well enough that she almost didn’t notice it. “I thought about letting her stay with my parents instead of moving her away from all her friends. But they’ve already done so much for me, and they don’t need to raise another kid. And she’s my daughter. She belongs with me.”
This time she managed to keep her mouth shut and not comment on the edge in his voice. It was clearly a touchy spot for him.
“All right then. Two bathtubs, meals, dirty socks.” Time to get back on neutral footing. She slid onto one of the stools lined up against the breakfast bar. “Let’s talk schedule. I know half your games are out of town, and you’re gone the night before.”
Another throat clear, another scratch of his beard, then Seth came and leaned against the counter on the other side of the island. Looking at her, but with a bland expression. No heat, no awkwardness. Just a man interviewing a potential employee.
Which was what they both needed.
“And we stay in a hotel the night before home games as well.”
“Really?” What a weird thing to do.
“Gets us away from the distractions of home life. So we can focus on the game. No staying out late at the bars or getting picked up for drinking and driving and missing the game because we’re in jail. Hell, we have a curfew. And no waking up at two with the baby. No fighting with wives. The NFL pays us a lot of money to make them even more money. They want to make sure they get quality product every Sunday.”
That was a cynical way of looking at it.
Before she could comment, Seth held up a hand. “I’m not complaining. Once I got used to it, I preferred it. And I get to do something I absolutely love. If I can’t handle some rules sixteen nights—well, ideally twenty if we get to the Super Bowl. But if I can’t handle that a handful of nights out of the year, I don’t deserve to be here.”
“Very mature for a man who plays a boys’ game and has a curfew,” she teased.
He chuckled. “That’s me. A man-boy.”
No, he was all man.
They spent the next few minutes going over the details of his practice schedule, plus Maddie’s schedule for school, lessons, and the private swim team she was going to be on starting the following week. They were looking at the schedule of swim meets when the glass door at the back of the living room opened and a lanky girl with waist-length brown hair walked in.
Carrie could see immediately that she had Seth’s nose and blue eyes. If she was twelve, the same age as the seventh graders Carrie used to teach, then Maddie was tall like her dad too.
“Hey, Dad,” she said, casting a curious look at Carrie.
“Mads, this is Carrie Heron. I told you we’d be talking to her about maybe taking the housekeeper position,” Seth said.
Maddie’s gaze lingered on Carrie, then she moved past them to the refrigerator. “Sure.” She pulled out a can of Diet Dr Pepper.
A girl after Carrie’s own heart. “You have Diet Dr Pepper!” she said with a little more enthusiasm than was warranted but that she knew could start the long process of breaking the ice with a preteen. “Do you think I could have one? They’re kind of my weakness.”
Maddie didn’t say anything, just got another can out. She set it in front of Carrie before heading to the loveseat. She tossed a book on the coffee table and slumped back onto the cushions.
“You want to get to know her a little bit?” Seth asked in a low voice. “Since you’d be spending most of your time with her, not me.”
Carrie nodded, taking her soda and heading for the couch. She sat on the edge, angling her legs toward Maddie. But when she opened her mouth to speak, no words came to mind.
She knew how to slowly get to know a classroom of thirty students. She knew what to say on the first day of school to ease the awkwardness. She knew how to give advice to students who came to her for help, knew how to reprimand them when they broke rules, knew how to commend them when they did well.
But she had no clue what to say to a girl she was potentially going to live with and take care of.
Carrie’s eyes strayed to the coffee table to see what Maddie had been reading. A frisson of excitement ran through her when she discovered it was the second volume of Ms. Marvel, a comic book about a Muslim teen who suddenly developed superpowers. Carrie had read all of them.
As she turned back to Maddie, Carrie noticed the girl’s T-shirt was of Harley Quinn and the Joker. The girl was clearly into comic books.
Grinning, Carrie said, “You like comics.” No need to pretend it was a question.
Maddie raised her eyebrows, cautious but interested. She nodded, then took a sip of her soda.
“I have tons—I can’t even keep most of them at my apartment. There’s no room, so they’re still in my old bedroom at my parents’ house. Along with all the action figures and most of my costumes.” Carrie held her breath, waiting for Maddie’s reaction. If they could bond over comics, she had to take the job, attraction to her boss be damned.
“Costumes? Like for Halloween?” Maddie’s tone said her entire opinion of Carrie rested in the answer to this question.
“A few. But mostly for cosplay.” Please be the right answer. She hadn’t known for sure until that moment, but she wanted this job. The perks were many and the only negative was her crush on Seth. Which could easily be ignored and would eventually go away.
Maddie sat up straight, her jaw dropping almost comically. “You do cosplay?”
It made her incredibly uncool, but Carrie couldn’t stop herself from grinning at Maddie’s enthusiasm. She nodded, saying, “Any chance I get. In fact, if I take this job, we’ll have to work something out.” She turned to look at Seth, who had sat down at the other end of the couch. “I’m supposed to be giving two workshops at a con in October.”
“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Seth said, a wry smile on his face. He was clearly amused by the two of them hitting it off over superheroes. “But what’s a con?”
Maddie made a disgusted sound only a tween could pull off. “A comic book convention. You know, nerds.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not a nerd. Carrie’s not a nerd.”
“Yes I am, Dad.”
“Science teacher who dresses up as an evil botanist? Total nerd.”
Maddie’s attention whipped back to Carrie. “You do Poison Ivy? I love her.”
Carrie and Maddie discussed comics for nearly a half hour, and Maddie took Carrie upstairs to show off her Funko Pop! collection.
Before they headed back downstairs, Maddie also pointed out the bedroom that would be Carrie’s. “It’s totally generic. I’m sure my dad will let you decorate however you want.”
It had white walls and a hardwood floor, with whitewashed wood furniture and pale green bed linens. Carrie would probably replace the bedding and curtains, but the furniture looked nicer than hers. She’d have to figure out what to do with her furniture. Unless Seth had changed his mind, she was taking the job.
Back downstairs, he’d turned on the Wisconsin Badgers football pregame show. Grinning college students filled the screen, all making Ws with their fingers.
Relaxed, with his bare feet on the coffee table and his hair now back in a low ponytail, Seth looked…She didn’t even have a word for it. Masculine. Sexy, but that was a permanent state for him.
He looked at home. Which he was, of course. But for a moment, it felt like she was part of that home. Not as a nanny, a live-in employee. But as part of that family.
Which was absurd. It wasn’t like she was an orphan who’d spent years alone, or even that she had reached a point where she longed for a family of her own. But for the briefest of moments, that’s what she’d felt.
“Hey.” Seth rose and muted the TV as she and Maddie joined him in the living room. “You two seem to be hitting it off.”
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nbsp; From Maddie’s pocket, a poppy boy band song started playing. She pulled her phone out and read the screen. “It’s Sophie,” she told Seth, then pointed at Carrie. “But we need to hire her, Dad. If you hire someone else, I’ll be the worst-behaved daughter ever.”
With those parting words, she swiped the screen and headed for the back door.
With a shrug, Seth chuckled. “You heard the girl. You still want the job?”
“I’d hate to be contributing to the delinquency of a minor,” Carrie said. “I guess I have to.”
His smile faded, expression turning serious. “You don’t have to. I understand if it’s…” He waved a hand between them.
“I know. But I want to. I need the job, I need a place to live, and she seems like a great kid. Where else will I get a chance to influence an impressionable young comic book fan?” She understood why he was being more serious, but she had to keep it light or the awkwardness would kill her.
“You know this means we can’t—”
“I know,” she cut him off before he could finish. She didn’t want to know how he was going to finish the thought. Because if he’d said the word sex, she probably would have spontaneously combusted. Sure, spontaneous combustion was technically scientifically impossible, but inexplicable things happened all the time. Look at deep-fried butter on a stick.
Seth grinned. “Well, great.” He let out a heavy sigh. “That is a huge weight off for me. She stayed with a teammate’s family when we were in Miami, but they have four kids, so I can’t keep doing that to his wife.”
“Your next game is next weekend?” She was happy to start right away, and since she had to move no matter what, she’d already started packing. She could be ready to move by tomorrow if she had to.
“I know it’s rushed, but would it work for you to move your stuff on Tuesday? We have a short day, so I’m done by eleven. But if that’s too—”
“No, Tuesday’s great.” Shit, she sounded way too eager. Or desperate.
But in her defense, it was only because she was eager and desperate.
“I’ll talk to Jason. I’m sure he can help me bring stuff over.”
“Let me pay for a moving truck. It’s no problem. Half the basement is unfinished, so we can put whatever furniture you want to keep down there.”
“Sure. That sounds good.” Politeness probably dictated she should at least offer to pay for the moving truck herself. But she was almost out of money. And she’d Googled his salary: he made more per game than she had in six years of teaching.
“I should get going, then. Lots of packing to do.”
He snapped his fingers, drawing her attention to his strong hands. Hands she would never get to feel running through her hair as he…
Bad Carrie!
“I saved some of the boxes from our move. I’ll go grab them for you.”
“That’d be great.”
He headed toward the basement stairs. As he went, she couldn’t stop herself from checking out his perfect ass. Heat pulsed down her arms, and she longed to reach out and squeeze each tight cheek. The man had a perfect body.
But so did plenty of other guys. And she’d have to find one of them, because Seth Chamberlain was now her boss. And officially off-limits.
Chapter 4
Seth handed a bottle of Sprecher Amber to Carrie and another to Harry, keeping the third for himself as he dropped onto his couch. He didn’t drink much during the season, but after hauling a table and sofa to his basement and three small bookcases up to Carrie’s room, not to mention the dozens of boxes the three of them had carried, he needed something cold. Sometimes a beer hit the spot in a way water, lemonade, or a sport drink couldn’t. And Milwaukee had a million excellent local beers. It would be a shame not to try them out.
“You got a nice place,” Harry said. “Can’t say a McMansion is my style, but if you gotta do the family thing, this is all right.”
“You haven’t been here yet?” Carrie asked. “Some best friend you are.”
Harry—Seth’s nickname for Carrie’s brother—gave her a look that could only be described as brotherly disdain. “Some of us were working our asses off over the summer instead of going on beach vacations with our besties.”
“A weekend in Door County is hardly a beach vacation,” Carrie shot back with an equally disdainful expression.
Seth didn’t have sisters, but he had two younger brothers. He could see sisters were just as good as brothers at doling out insults.
“Door County has beaches.”
“On Lake Michigan. That’s hardly Jamaica. And applying for seventy-four jobs, then interviewing for twenty-seven of them, qualifies as working my ass off.” Carrie leaned forward and set her beer bottle on the coffee table. “So fuck.” She lifted her right hand and extended her middle finger in Harry’s direction. “You.” She repeated the gesture with her left.
Seth almost snorted beer into his nostrils trying not to laugh at the unexpected move. Ignoring the burn at the back of his throat, he swallowed, then released the laugh.
Harry grinned. “Should you use that language around your new employer?”
Carrie said nothing, instead glaring as she picked up her beer and took a long drink.
“Did you really have that many interviews and not get a job?” Seth regretted the question the second it came out of his mouth. It had to be a sore spot for her.
Sure enough, her expression hardened, her eyes going flat. “I tell myself I was a close second for all of them. With my experience, they have to pay me more, so it’s better to hire a new grad.”
She didn’t look like she believed it, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to pry further.
“Their loss,” he said, because what else could he say?
“So.” Harry drew out the word, clearly looking to change the subject. “You told me you met some chick you wanted to ask out, and things were getting hot and heavy over texts with her. How’s that going? You move things past typing last weekend?” He had a lewd smile that provided all the subtext they needed.
Carrie’s cheeks turned red and she immediately looked down so her hair fell around her to hide her face.
Shit. Seth wouldn’t have talked about her with Harry if he’d known he was her brother. Hell, he wouldn’t have sent her text messages about how he wanted to kiss the hell out of her. He wouldn’t have told her he was wicked and asked if she—
He had to stop thinking about it. He needed to delete those texts from his phone so he couldn’t reread them the way he had several times in the past week. Even after hiring her.
“Nah,” he said, trying to sound casual and not at all like the object of his desires was sharing a couch with him that moment. Or that he still very much wanted to make good on all the explicit and implied promises they’d made in their texts. “That fizzled out.”
Carrie turned her head toward him the slightest bit, enough that he could see her eyes.
“It’s better anyway,” he said, as much to her as to Harry. “The season is insane. I don’t have enough time for Mads, let alone for dating.”
Carrie lifted her head all the way, her hair sliding back. A faint smile touched the corners of her lips. God, did he want to kiss those lips.
“Probably for the best,” Harry said.
“How’s that?” His friend was right, but that didn’t mean Seth had completely bought into the idea yet.
“You said she seemed awesome. Like one of the good ones.” Harry studied the label on his bottle. “We’ve always said girls like that deserve a hell of a lot better than asshole jocks like us.”
They had. It had started as a way to justify taking advantage of the ample supply of willing college girls. Though in retrospect, if they’d considered all those girls unworthy, it said more about what assholes they truly were than it did about the girls’ character.
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Now, well, he was a decent enough guy. He treated his dates well. But he was up front with all of them that he wasn’t in it for anything serious. Mads and football were his life, in that order. And because of how devastated nine-year-old Mads had been when his last serious relationship ended, he no longer brought women around to meet his daughter. He wouldn’t do that to her again.
Another reason he could never get involved with Carrie.
“They do,” was all he said to Harry.
“Just make sure you keep your hands to yourself around my little sister.”
Fuck, Harry hadn’t actually said that, had he?
“Jesus, Jason. What the hell?” she practically shouted.
Harry shrugged unapologetically, his gaze focused on his sister. “What? You deserve a hell of a lot better than some football player getting his rocks off with the nanny—”
“Fuck you, Harry.” Seth tried to keep his temper in check. Half the reason this got to him was because he wanted to get his rocks off with the nanny. If he weren’t interested, it wouldn’t piss him off half as much.
“—then firing you when it doesn’t work out.”
“Fuck you, Jason.” Carrie repeated Seth’s sentiment.
Another shrug from Harry. Jason. They’d been out of college for a decade. Probably time to drop the idiotic nickname.
“Hey, jackass, contrary to popular belief, I can keep my pants zipped. I don’t need you to remind me that I need a nanny more than I need to get laid.” Seth’s words were directed at his friend, but he kept his gaze focused on Carrie, hoping she understood the emotion underlying what he said. It was absolutely not personal. And he understood it wasn’t personal for her either.
They were adults. They could move past their attraction.
“Sitting right here,” Carrie sang out. “No one is sleeping with anyone, none of the three of us in any permutation.”
“Eew,” Jason tossed out.
Seth had to agree on that one.
“Let’s drop this subject and move on.” Carrie glared at her brother for a long moment, and Jason’s expression turned almost sheepish.