Page 7 of Tell Me Lies

Plopping herself down in one of the Adirondack chairs next to the propane firepit, she sits forward. “Okay, well, let’s get through your million questions. You’re lucky I have a good memory.

“First off, she’s an established author with a huge following. But a few years back, she started to have trouble writing. Her father had died in a car accident, apparently, though she doesn’t talk about it much, and not long after that, her fiancé left her. Ever since, she’s struggled to put books out the way she used to.”

I can hear the sympathy in Poppy’s voice as she speaks about her friend.

“She grew up in Boston but moved to Maine some years ago. She’s twenty-seven. I don’t know if she’s ever been a nanny or even babysat. But what I do know is, she’s very sweet and extremely organized. Oh, and she only agreed to six weeks of this anyway. So, you can still be on the hunt to find a nanny with aflashy ten-page résumé. Maybe someone who used to babysit for Tom Brady’s kids or some shit.”

She shrugs. “Look, I brought her here because I know everything to do with Amelia falls on your shoulders. I wanted to help. And Maci might not know this yet, but she needs this job.”

“Did you—” I start to say, but she holds her hand up, cutting me off.

“No. I didn’t tell her why you’re a single dad. I simply said that Amy’s mom has never been involved and that you have full custody. It’s not my story to tell. Besides, I know you’ve never wanted it in the press to protect Amelia later in life.” She gives me a small smile. “I’d never tell anyone your secrets, Logan. Walker’s family is the Sharks. And Walker’s family is my family.”

That’s the thing with Poppy James. She’s ride or die. If she considers you a friend, she’ll do anything she can to help you out. And that’s why I know deep down that this Maci girl is good.

I put my hand on the back of her chair and sigh. “All right. Fine. Six weeks. But for the first few days, can you maybe stop in and check in on them while I’m gone?”

“Of course.” She nods. “And like I said, I want to help as much as I can. But I can’t always be around, is all.”

Dragging in a breath, I bob my head up and down. “All right. Let’s go.” I wink. “But just so you know, I’m going to need her Social Security number because I will be running a background check on her before she ever watches Amy.”

“I’d expect nothing less, Sterns.” Poppy grins before pushing herself to stand. “It’s going to be great. You just wait and see.” Stopping, she pokes her finger into me. “Don’t waste your time trying to get in her pants though. She’s a hard nut to crack, and she doesn’t date. Ever.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, holding my hands up. “I don’t date either.”

“Yeah, but you sleep with girls when you’re away at things that you can’t bring Amy to,” she points out. “Which I get isn’t often because you’re the dad who can’t stand leaving his kid—as it should be. But still, I know you’ve hooked up with your share of puck bunnies.”

“Well, yeah, Pop. Every now and then, I like to use the thing that hangs between my legs for old times’ sake. You know, to make sure it still works and all.” I shrug. “Also, even though I might fuck, I would never fuck my kid’s nanny.”

“Well, on second thought, that sounds kind of hot. Annnnd my girl could use something to loosen her up and give her some material for writing.” She pats my chest playfully. “Even so, you stand no chance.”

“I don’t want a chance!” I’m basically yelling now, clearly letting her get under my skin. “Dear God, there’s plenty of women I could … you know, get jiggy with who wouldn’t be taking care of my kid.”

“Did you just sayget jiggy?” Her mouth hangs open. “Who are you, Will Smith? How long have you been out of the game? My God.”

“I’ll never be fully out of the game.” I wink. “Come on. We’d better get inside before your husband thinks I’m trying to steal you away.”

“Ha! He knows better.” She snorts.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He knows you’ve got no shot, Sterns. No shot at all.” She laughs, walking toward the door. “You’re too fucking soft and goofy for me, Logie Bear. I’d eat you alive.”

“What? I am not soft.”

“Dude, you let your three-year-old paint your nails last week and then forgot to take it off and wore it to practice,” she says, walking backward.

“I didn’t forget to take it off. I started to, and Amy was sad—” I stop when I see her face. “All right, fine. I’m a giant fucking vagina. Happy?”

“That you are, Sterns. And yes. Yes, I am,” she says before sliding the door open and walking inside.

I guess I have a new nanny.

I’ve never been a babysitter. Well, that’s not entirely true. When I was in high school, I tried it a few times with kids in my neighborhood, and I hated it so much that I decided to scoop ice cream for the summer instead. Though the money from babysitting was better, working at Scoops had its perks because who wouldn’t want cotton-candy ice cream anytime they felt like it? Which, for me, was a lot. But my point is, I hated babysitting back then. I assumed when I walked in here tonight, the same thing would happen. I figured I’d be annoyed with the toddler after a few minutes and come up with some reason why I couldn’t take the job. Or worse, I’d have to act like a bitch just so that Logan would say absolutely not.

Instead, the opposite happened.

The kid, Amelia, who is three years old, might be the cutest kid I’ve ever seen. And I guess it was my fault for expecting more of a babbling baby, but this kid talks in complete sentences, making it way more enjoyable to converse with her. And withher love for things like excavators and not just regular cows, but specifically Highland cows? I find her delightful.

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