Page 11 of Foster

“Yes. I’ve got a separate master suite upstairs. Not as big as the main one but it would give you privacy. Bowie Jane’s room is upstairs too. Even when I’m here on home games, I have practice and, of course, the games themselves. But I get days off and those would be your days off. When I’m in town, I don’t need all-day care. It might just be for a few hours at a time. It’s not a consistent schedule and that’s the downside, but the upside is that I will make it worth your while.”

“The current job offer I have is a base salary of $125,000 per year and it’s essentially a forty-hour-per-week job with most weekends off.”

To his credit, Foster doesn’t flinch. “I’d need you more than that. But I’ll pay you $150,000, and I’ll coordinate with the other hockey moms to give you as many weekends off as I can muster.”

“They’re also offering retirement contributions and health insurance.”

“Done.”

I nibble on my lower lip, considering. Finally, I say, “You haven’t even asked me questions about my style with children or my capabilities.”

“I got all I needed from the Hamberlys.”

No doubt the work would be harder with this job offer but that’s not why I’m hesitating. It’s just… there’s something about the hot single dad desperate for my help that has me on edge. This seems like a really bad situation to put myself into.

Not that I’m a desperate woman seeking anything, but I’ve read enough romance novels to know that I could become a trope, and I don’t want that. It could end disastrously, not that he’s attracted to me or anything, and not that I am to him. I mean… he’s gorgeous, yes, but I think that about a lot of people. Leo’s exceptionally hot but he’s just my friend.

“A hundred and fifty thousand, plus retirement and insurance,” Foster says and pushes the check back toward me. “And a signing bonus.”

More blinking since that seems to work best to clear my errant thoughts. I shake my head. “I’m sorry, but it’s just too much of a risk. You don’t even have a job to offer since your daughter isn’t here yet, and I have to give my answer to these other people by tomorrow night.”

“If you were so committed to taking that job, you would have already accepted it.”

Crap. That is a damn good point. There has been one little hesitation I’ve been struggling with, but I don’t let him know that.

“I’ve been busy,” I reply, blowing off such a well-made point with a lame excuse.

“Please,” Foster says, and he sounds desperate. “My custody hearing is on Monday morning. If I don’t have childcare lined up, there’s no way I’ll win this.”

I stare at him shrewdly, wondering about his ploy to tug at my conscience. But I don’t buy it. I can tell by the determination he’s shown so far, he loves his daughter beyond any definable measure and he wouldn’t go into that hearing without a backup plan.

“I’m not your only option,” I say confidently.

“No, you’re not,” he says, and I smile in triumph. “Although you’re my only nanny option. But if you don’t take the job, I’m just going to tell the judge I’ll walk away from the league to take care of my daughter full time. That’s my backup plan.”

My mouth falls open. “You’d do that?”

“What father wouldn’t?” he asks with a frown.

“You’d be surprised how many,” I mutter, thinking of some of the families I’ve worked for over the years who use their nanny as the primary parent because they have better things to do. But I don’t give him details, instead standing from the stool. “I’m really sorry, Foster, but I’ve committed to the other family.”

He stands, towering over me. “But you haven’t. You haven’t accepted yet.”

“But I will,” I counter.

“Call them right now then.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his smirk confident. “If you’re so committed, might as well give them some peace of mind.”

“They’re not in town currently,” I grit out. Which is true but that wouldn’t prevent me from making a call to accept. “Again, thank you for the very generous offer and if you want, I’m glad to help you search for someone who’s more compatible.”

His hazel eyes seem to darken as he stares at me with an intensity that makes the back of my neck hot. “If you change your mind, let me know before Monday.”

“I won’t.”

“You might.”

I hold out my hand for him to shake. “Thank you again for the offer and I wish you the best of luck.”

For the first time, Foster looks peeved but manages to plaster on a smile as his large hand engulfs mine. “Please just think about it.”

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