Page 11 of Marrying the Nanny

His brothers were doing well enough in their chosen careers to throw a few bucks at the project. He’d taken the time to look up that much over the years, mostly out of a puerile need to compete, but it was true that none of them could afford much time away from their careers if they wanted to remain as comfortable as they were.

“What about Storm?” Emma asked, eyes wide with apprehension.

Christ. The baby.

His brothers had tagged Reid correctly when it came to taking the lead. As a child, he’d been subjected to nothing but chaos. Once he learned that captains got to steer the ship, he’d made a habit of taking command. It was a control thing that usually worked in his favor.

In this case, however, taking responsibility involved a serious danger of being stuck with the hot potato when the music stopped.

“We’re three adults,” Reid pointed out. “If we take joint custody, there will always be a tiebreaker when we disagree.” Which was inevitable.

“I vote Reid takes her.” Logan lifted a finger.

“Second.” Trys turned his head. “You’re losing your edge.”

“How can you make jokes about something this serious?” Emma’s voice trembled. Her eyes were shiny, her lashes matted. “She’s a baby.”

Reid bit back a sigh, not convinced Emma would be a good fit in the long run if she couldn’t laugh in the face of whatever unholy mess Wilf had made because, God knows, that man had known how to make one.

“It’s all or none, boys,” he said to his brothers. “Unless you have a better idea, we’re flying to Raven’s Cove, making a plan to get it ready for the season, and making a decision on what happens to…”

Was he really supposed to call her his sister?

Chapter Three

“We’re keeping the nanny.” Trystan pointed at Emma.

“Two for that,” Logan said, also looking at Reid, not her.

Emma ought to be relieved they wanted her, but honestly, they were the most arrogant, insensitive pack of wolves she had ever encountered—and she had a brother who still called her Squirt and had sided with her ex-husband through her divorce.

“Do I get a say?” Emma asked.

“No,” they said in unison.

“You understand Emma is an employee?” Harpreet looked to Emma. “How many hours per week were you hired for?”

“Thirty.” Which had turned into more like sixty. After watching the baby for a long weekend while Wilf and Tiffany married in Vegas, Emma was supposed to have had a week of vacation.

She had planned to explore the coast. Instead, she’d put in fifty hours of overtime and had had to beg for the privilege. Harpreet had been prepared to send a social worker to take Storm into emergency foster care. After conferring with the local health nurse, and getting a good word from Sophie, Harpreet had been persuaded to leave Storm in her own home with the nanny who knew her routine.

“If you’re collectively taking guardianship of Storm, you will be responsible for her daily needs,” Harpreet spelled out to the brothers. “Keeping Storm in familiar surroundings is the sort of consistency we strive for, but am I understanding correctly that you’re viewing this as a temporary arrangement? For how long, do you think?”

“A week. Two, tops,” Logan warned Reid.

“It’s reasonable that we take time to discuss our options before we make a long-term plan, isn’t it?” Reid said. “Our father isn’t even in the ground.”

“Mom said she’d help with the service,” Logan mentioned.

“Where?” Trys asked with a frown. “The island?”

“Probably best.” Reid shrugged. “We have to go there anyway. We can talk about the service once we wrap up here.”

Harpreet smiled at Emma. “Why don’t you run out for those things you wanted? The special formula.” Harpreet rose and came toward her. “I’ll keep Storm here with her brothers.”

“What? Why?” Emma drew Storm more securely against her chest.

“You said you haven’t had a break in days. Catch your breath and take a few minutes to consider whether this arrangement will work for you. Do you need money?”

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