Page 10 of Sexy Bad Daddy

A dark-haired little girl dressed normally in pale blue pants and a white top leaps from the table under a nearby willow tree, clapping her hands madly and shouting, “Bravo! Bravo, Daddy! Bravo!” He turns around, forms a fist, and holds it out, and she rushes up, touches her knuckles to his, and then flings her hand away, spreading her fingers at the same time.

“Oh God,” I mutter as I watch the father-daughter bonding moment.

“Yeah, we don’t usually allow such young kids out here, but since she’s his daughter and all,” Cabana Boy says with an eye roll, like Frost is a celebrity or something. Oh, wait.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’ve got it from here. I’ll see you around maybe?”

“I get off at two.”

I bite my lip to keep from bursting into laughter and nod as solemnly as I can, and then I quickly make my way past all the other golfers, most of whom had paused what they were doing to watch that apparently impressive drive. Garrett notices me before I reach them, and he crouches so that he’s eye level with his daughter and whispers something in her ear. She giggles and I falter but force the polite smile to remain on my face as they both watch me approach.

“Um, hi,” I say, giving a little wave when I stop a few feet away.

Without straightening from his daughter’s side, Garrett glances at his watch. “Punctual. Good to see you again, Erin.”

“You, too, ah, Mr. Frost.”

“Garrett.”

“Right. Nice outfit.”

“You like it?” He glances at his plaid-covered knees. “I figured I should go conservative today since I’m meeting my potential nanny and all.”

“Um, right. So this is Abby?”

The little girl inches closer to her dad and offers me a tentative wave. I bend down so I’m at their level, tugging on the short skirt of my dress and pressing my knees together. “Hi there. I’m Erin.” I hold out my hand to shake, and she glances at her dad before sliding her hand into mine and pumping it with surprising strength. No dead fish handshake for this child. I’m impressed.

When she pulls her hand away, she stares at her palm, where a little barrette with a tiny pink rose now rests. “Oh-h-h, pretty,” she says, smiling.

“Clever,” Garrett comments, and then he straightens to his full height, which is probably a good eight inches taller than me. I follow suit, brushing wrinkles out of my dress as I do so.

“Abby,” he says. “This lady wants to be your nanny. Why don’t you take her over to your seat and interview her? When I’m done practicing, we’ll compare notes. And if you don’t like her, for whatever reason, I won’t even consider hiring her. Got it?”

Seriously? That’s a lot of pressure to put on a three-year-old. Not to mention me.

“Got it,” Abby says solemnly, and she grabs my hand and leads me to the two-top table where she had been sitting earlier. As soon as our butts are in wooden folding chairs, a server appears and asks if we need refreshments.

“Chocolate milk,” Abby says.

Nodding at the plastic cup with a lid parked in front of her, I ask, “Was that chocolate milk?”

“Yep.”

“Maybe you should have white milk this time.”

She makes a face but doesn’t argue.

“How about you, miss? Would you care for a mimosa?”

Would I, although it probably wouldn’t be appropriate at the moment. “Just water, thanks.”

After he leaves, Abby says, “What’s an interview?”

I chuckle. “You agreed to what your dad said even though you didn’t know what he was talking about?”

She shrugs.

“An interview is sort of a test. You get to decide if you want me to stick around and babysit you when your dad’s at work.”

---