Page 44 of Sexy Bad Daddy

“So you’re ‘we’ now?”

God, the woman gets under my skin. She’s always trying to stir up gossip. Never mind that she’s right this time and there’s plenty of fodder surrounding Garrett at the moment. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one to feed it to her.

“I could’ve sworn I already explained to you the relationship between a nanny and the family she works for. But if you need me to go into it again…”

Fiona smirks and then opens her mouth, probably to give me some scathing reply, or worse, make a suggestive comment about my relationship with Garrett, when Abby says, “He’s teeing up.” She claps her hands, a wide grin on her face while she watches her father get ready to start this round. She’s far more enamoured of this game than I’ll ever be. Or maybe it’s him. That’s the only reason I’ve learned the little I have.

He glances our way, does a double take, and then straightens and steps away from the little white ball perched on the tiny bit of wood. Harry steps closer and says something, and Garrett thrusts the club at him, gestures wildly, then storms toward us.

“Get the fuck away from them,” he says to Fiona, stabbing his finger into her face. Her eyes widen while she moves her head like a chicken, like she’s trying to dodge his digit. “You better not have told her anything,” he says to me. “Our lives are private. It’s none of her goddamn business.”

“I didn’t—”

“We’re leaving,” he says, reaching for Abby and pulling her out of my arms.

“But the game—”

“Is going to suck. I’m done with this tournament. I can’t fucking concentrate.”

He starts to walk away, through the crowd that parts for him like he’s Moses. I catch a glimpse of malicious satisfaction on Fiona’s face. I need to call Callum as soon as I can and warn him that she’s brewing something and he needs to start working on damage control.

But first, I need to deal with my unhinged employer. Okay, maybe unhinged is a strong way to say he’s acting like a big, fat jerk. All I know is I just got chastised in public for something that wasn’t my fault, and it’s time for Garrett to learn a hard lesson in the proper way to treat … what? Women? Employees? Friends with benefits? Lovers? I wish we’d put a damn label on it so I know what to call myself in my own head.

I chase after him while he skirts around the clubhouse, even though it would be quicker to cut through. And then we’re standing on the sidewalk outside the main entrance. He turns to me and in measured tones says, “Where’s your valet ticket?”

“In my purse,” I snap.

“Can I have it?”

I glare at him.

“Please?”

Jerking the bit of paper out of my bag, I slap it into his hand. “What about your clubs?”

“Harry will take care of them.” His tone is clipped, short. Probably a good thing Fiona isn’t within striking distance. I’m pretty sure if Garrett had a club in his hand, he wouldn’t be whacking a ball with it.

Well, I’m angry too. He has no right accusing me of arranging for Abby to see her mother. I can’t believe he thinks so little of me, of my integrity. Not to mention my love for his child. She’s probably going to have nightmares now or, at the very least, be sad when we go home and she realizes she can’t see her mother again.

The rental car arrives, and Garrett belts Abby into the car seat while the valet holds open the passenger side door and I slide inside. And then we’re off down the long, winding drive, turning onto the road and heading toward our hotel. I can’t take the deafening silence any longer.

“You know, I didn’t do anything wrong back there. And I resent the fact you think I—”

“She’s mine,” he interrupts, staring straight ahead and flexing his hands on the steering wheel. “Morgan gave her to me.” His gaze flicks to the rearview mirror.

“She can’t have her back.”

I snap my head around and narrow my eyes and then whip back to glare out the side window. Damn it, it’s not even entirely his fault I’m so furious, although he definitely gets the bulk of the blame.

But it’s also about my history. My first nanny gig. And the biggest mistake of my life. While this affair with Garrett is different from what happened with Peter, there are also far too many similarities for my own personal comfort level. And I’m scared out of my mind that one of the media hounds—like Freaky Foot Fiona—will dig deep enough into the famous golfer’s nanny’s past and figure out that she’s been here before.

And that knowledge will not only ruin whatever he and I have going, it’ll also ruin him.

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