Page 37 of Marrying the Nanny

The room was surprisingly tidy with the pullout mattress tucked in and the sofa cushions replaced. They were using a bookshelf to hold their folded clothes and their laptops were charging on the corner unit that held the TV.

“How is it really, sharing a room with your brother again?” She smoothed the jumper seat flat on the sofa and held out her hands for Storm. “There’s a single bed in Storm’s room if you want to bring it down.”

“We’ll make use of it when we’re on nights so the monitor isn’t in here waking up the other guy.” He handed over Storm and walked away in a restless pace. “And once the weather improves, we can leave Trys out at night. It’ll all work out.”

“You’re hopeless. Watch. You have to make sure you do this right so she won’t fall out.”

Logan came to stand over her while she demonstrated the Velcro and buckles and snaps.

“That’s more rigging than my sailboat.”

“You like to sail?”

“I love to sail.”

“Mmm.”

“What does that mean?”

She tilted a look up to him. “Is this a safe space to share?”

He grew more cautious, less comedic. “I guess. Why?”

“You remind me of my ex-husband. He likes to be all”—she snapped her fingers through the air—“making jokes all the time, never serious about anything. I saw it in Wilf so I know you come by it honestly, but Kevin liked to sail, too. He’s a civil engineer and you’re a…marine engineer?”

“Until I went to Italy and learned to be a marine architect, yes. Are we trading confessions or insults?”

She chuckled. “I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

“Right, because every man dreams of that special moment when a woman tells him he reminds her of her garbage ex-husband.”

“He was garbage, which makes you more intuitive than he was. Can you put this around the doorjamb?” She handed him the clamp.

He walked to the door. “Was he as good-looking as me?”

“Better. In that way, you’re not like him at all.”

“Careful, Emma.” He eyed her over his shoulder in a way that was very male. Interest-gauging. “I’m going to think you’re flirting, and we have a rule.”

“Who does?” She carried Storm over, baby in one arm, the bar with the hook in the other. She clipped Storm in and gently released her. “I usually pull this mat under her like this.”

Emma drew the area rug so it was in the doorway beneath Storm. Storm was already kicking and bouncing, joggling around in the seat like a drunk, arms waving.

Emma straightened and looked at Logan. He wore a smirk of amusement as he watched his baby sister.

“Is this beginner bungee where you come from? This is a riot. Hey, Trys.” He leaned toward the bottom of the stairs. “Come see this.”

“What kind of rule?” Emma asked, instinctively folding her arms.

“Hmm? Oh.” Logan grew sheepish. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s a safe space,” she reminded him, forcing her smile to stay in place even though suspicion was creeping in.

His cheeks went hollow as he considered, then he shrugged. “We have three rules to ensure things runs smoothly.” He made a fist and stuck out his thumb. “If there’re fewer than six beers, pick some up.” He added a finger and pointed at Storm. “Respect the shift schedule. And”—he pointed a two-fingered pistol at her—“no one sleeps with the nanny.”

“Really?” There was no reason she should be astonished. Boys would be boys and all that, but, “Who said I want to sleep with any of you?” It took everything in her to hold his gaze, hoping certain thoughts and feelings weren’t painted in neon letters across her face. Did Reid know she was attracted to him? Had they all seen it in her and that’s what this was about?

“Don’t get mad,” he warned. “It’s a circle of trust.”

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