Page 21 of Marrying the Nanny

Then there was Reid, who was impossible to read.

See what I did there, Storm? I’m hilarious. She clapped the baby’s hands and rubbed her nose against Storm’s.

Storm snuggled into her neck, soothing the vulnerability that accosted Emma whenever she thought of Reid. Not one of those men made her feel secure in her position here. They had given her no indication of what they planned for her, but she had a feeling they were waiting for each other to blink. It left her holding her breath. Anxious.

She experienced something extra around Reid, though. It was a sense that she had to prove herself, as though his approval in particular was important. Not as a caregiver to his sister, either. As a woman. She knew from experience that was an exhausting way to live so she tried to quash it. She would seriously prefer to throw herself off that bluff out there than go down the road of unrequited infatuation again.

Something had to change, she knew it did, but she didn’t know what. All she could do was hang on to Storm as she bounced on her lap. Hang on and try not to smother her as she did.

“Hello?” a female voice called from the bottom of the basement stairs.

Emma rose and glanced out the window to see Sophie leaving in the company SUV.

“Hello?” she called down, resting Storm on her hip.

A middle-aged woman came up the stairs. Her quilted purple jacket was speckled with rain. She dragged her knitted hat off her hair, revealing silvery-blond plaits. She was carrying two well-stuffed cloth grocery bags and smiled as she reached the top of the stairs.

“I’m Glenda. You must be Emma.” She set the bags by the dining room table and skimmed off her jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair, making herself at home—which Emma supposed was natural since she’d lived here for twenty-odd years.

“Logan’s mom,” Emma recalled.

“That’s right.” She shook Emma’s hand with a firm grip. “This is Storm? Oh, that man did know how to make a baby, didn’t he?” She scooped Storm out of Emma’s hold and took her onto her hip, tickling her cheek to coax a smile. “Sweet thing. What big eyes you have.” Glenda widened her own and tilted her head into Storm’s, making Storm grin. “I wanted a girl so badly, but after three miscarriages, I gave up. That’s how things go sometimes, don’t they?”

“They do,” Emma murmured, slapped in the face by a truth she knew all too well. She was a little surprised Glenda was sharing so frankly, but she liked how the older woman still knew how to smile through life’s most crushing disappointments. It was the sort of inspiring resilience she needed when she was stressing over her uncertain future. “Was that Sophie?”

“She said to tell you she’s sorry she didn’t come in, but she’s being worked to death by my autocrat of a son.”

Emma blinked. “She said that? To you?” Sophie really was her hero for her ability to give absolutely no fucks.

“I’m under no illusions where those boys are concerned,” Glenda said with amusement. “At least she didn’t call him a son of a bitch. How are you making out?”

“Great.” How else was she supposed to answer that?

Emma followed Glenda into the kitchen. Her hands twitched to take back Storm, but the baby was content, trying to catch the swaying end of Glenda’s plait with its cherry-shaped bobble tie.

Glenda balanced Storm in that comfortable way of mothers who had learned to take on life one-handed. She lifted the lid on the slow cooker. Nodded.

“Smells good. I didn’t know if you had time or inclination to cook. I have three more bags of groceries downstairs. I’ll stock the freezer while I’m here. I didn’t realize…”

Glenda gazed around at the condiments and spices lining the windowsill and the electric teakettle on a cardboard box on the floor. She misted up.

“If you knew how many times I asked him for a new kitchen. I used to cook at the pub, you know. That’s how we met. Hmph.” She opened the refrigerator, making Emma aware of the lack of groceries and abundance of beer. “Wilf really was a son of a bitch. That’s why I was so determined to be a decent mother to his boys. I’d seen what poor mothering did to a man.”

Emma had only heard one thing about Wilf’s parents. Tiffany had made an offhand remark about bonding with Wilf over mother issues. Emma had since learned Tiffany’s mother had had drug problems and Emma wondered if Wilf’s had as well.

Glenda looked around, spotted the box of tissues atop the refrigerator. She plucked one, sniffing into it.

“No use putting the groceries away. I’ll stay at Sophie’s after all, since she has a functioning kitchen.” Glenda forced a smile of cheer. “But let’s have tea. You can tell me how all of this is going to work.” She nodded at the baby.

“I wish I knew,” Emma said on a sigh.

“Oh? Let’s figure that out, then.”

Chapter Five

Reid was almost convinced he had the flu, something that never happened to him, but he ached from head to toe. Not the good ache of a hard workout. The dull ache of sitting on an airplane for ten hours. He suspected it was the waterbed.

He kept telling himself it was temporary, but the more they dug into the resort operations, the worse things looked. All the quick fixes were cheap swipes at one of those mythical creatures, where cutting off one head only made room for two more to grow back. The monster became bigger and uglier by the day, showing more teeth.

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