Page 25 of Offside Devil

I pat the side of my purse to remind myself that it isn’t as close to death as it was this morning. Zane sent me off with an advance on my first paycheck. And I didn’t even have to ask! I’m still not sure I’d go as far as Taylor and call him “nice,” but he’s… he’s something, alright.

“I got it.”

Taylor squeals and I can’t fight my own smile.

An hour ago, I wouldn’t have called this a win. I’ve been going to the gym long enough to know that guys who look like Zane do not have hearts of gold to match. They’re all the same overconfident, hypersexual assholes who care more about the definition in their biceps than whatever woman they happen to be slipping their dick into that day.

I assumed Zane was the exact same way. Until he burst through that bathroom door and saved me from that creep.

And in case that was a fluke, I have even more evidence.

What kind of person locks a kid in a closet? He looked genuinely horrified when I accused him of locking his kid away. So horrified that I believed him.

Zane Whitaker may be a lot of things, but he’s a good dad. Trying to be, at least.

“I didn’t realize he had a kid.”

Taylor snorts. “What did you think a nannying job entailed? Of course he has a kid.”

“No, I mean, like, before I got the job. I’ve seen his name… in the papers.” Lies. I don’t follow sports. Before the throwdown in the Bean & Brew bathroom, Zane Whitaker and the entire Phoenix Angels hockey team could have busted into a flash mob in my living room and I wouldn’t have known a thing.

“Oh. Yeah, I don’t really know how that all happened,” Taylor admits. “He isn’t dating anyone.”

Some small part of me rises to attention—and I kick that small part of me right in her stupid vag.

Absolutely not. I don’t care if Zane is dating. I don’t need to know a single thing about the who, what, when, where, and why of it all, unless it pertains to me watching his kid.

“Guys like him don’t need to be in a committed relationship to make a baby.”

“No, I guess not.” Taylor laughs, but I can practically hear the gears in her head turning. She prides herself on knowing this kind of stuff. She thought a contestant on the last season of The Bachelor was suspicious, so she online stalked the girl back to her private middle school.

The single, ongoing small mercy in my life is that Taylor has never tried to look me up online.

“But you don’t know who the mom is…?” I ask cautiously. “It sounds like I’ll be a full-time nanny. He didn’t say anything about sharing custody.”

“I don’t know anything. Is it wrong if I ask you to spy on your employer and report back with all the juiciest details?”

“I think he’s going to have me sign an NDA, so yeah, I think it would be frowned upon.”

Taylor clicks her tongue in disappointment. “How comfortable are you breaking the law?”

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes against my ear. Taylor is one of the only people who has this number.

Plus, as of thirty minutes ago…

“It’s Zane,” I explain as the first call ends and another one comes in half a second later.

“Is he missing you already?”

I roll my eyes even as my stomach flips at the very idea. “He’s my boss, Tay.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Is Mr. Whitaker already missing his sexy new nanny?”

“I never would have taken this job if I knew you were going to be a child about it.” Or if I had any other option.

Zane’s name flashes on my screen for the third time, and I’m starting to worry something is seriously wrong. “I have to take this.”

“Ask him if he’s dating anyone!”

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