Page 7 of Sexy Bad Daddy

Chapter Three

ERIN

“Hang on.” I cover his hand with my own, to keep him from opening the door. It’s warm and soft with the exception of the rough edge of a callus between his thumb and pointer finger. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you? I can’t think of a better trial by fire than with relatives around.”

He’s still leaning over me, his face so close I can see the red mark where he cut himself shaving. “And I can’t think of a better opportunity for my brothers to bust my balls. If I take you with me, they’ll assume we’re sleeping together. And you keep insisting that’s off the table.”

It is. I swear. “Where’s Abby’s mom?”

When Olive You Nanny let me know this morning that they’d found a potential new employer, I was so excited, I didn’t ask my standard cache of pre-interview questions. And now that I’m here and he’s the guy from the bar, I’m not sure why I’m still pressing him to hire me.

Given my track record, I should be running the other way, not trying to cajole him into taking me to a family dinner. Especially if he’s married. I won’t be able to look his daughter or wife in the eye after our interaction last week. I gave up cheating men for Lent. Eight years ago.

But when he asked me questions about my profession, and the way he was wholly focused as I explained what constituted a good nanny … it made me feel important. Necessary. Like what I do for a living matters.

Besides, I need to get the hell out of my current living situation. Since my most recent nanny gig was terminated, I’ve been staying at Danny’s place. He lives in this huge, old rental house with a bunch of guys—so far I’ve counted five who seem to stay there on a steady basis, plus a handful of men and women alike who come and go pretty regularly. And since Danny rarely has steady employment, his bed is the pull-out sofa, and, yes, while I’m between jobs, that’s where I’m sleeping, too. Since I’m used to having my own space in houses better classified as mansions, these living arrangements are definitely not working for me.

“No idea,” Garrett says to my question. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“What do you mean, no idea? Like, she might be at the grocery store or getting a manicure no idea?”

“I mean, last time I spoke to her, she was in Dallas. But for all I know, she’s in fucking Aruba now.”

Holy shit, the mom up and left? That’s gotta suck. Was Frost in love with her? What kind of woman would ditch a hottie like him? Okay, that’s superficial, but I’m just sayin’ I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed. Of course, I shouldn’t even think about letting him into my bed in the first place.

And how’s the poor kid coping? When did it happen? What was the catalyst? Damn, part of me wants this gig just to get some answers. And another part wants it so I can be a positive influence on his daughter’s life. I haven’t even met her, yet I want to help her. I’m such a bleeding heart.

“When can I meet Abby?”

“I’ll take a look at your file and ca—”

“Let’s set a date and time now. As you know, my schedule’s pretty free at the moment.”

“You sure are pushy.”

With a black mark like mine on my résumé, I haven’t had a choice but to learn to aggressively pursue new employment opportunities.

“What about the boyfriend? Don’t you spend time with him on occasion?” he asks, and I have to fight not to cringe. That lie had been a knee jerk reaction when we met at the bar. And today, for that matter. The man is far too good-looking for my own good, and God help me, the snarky verbal exchanges are hot as hell.

But I need a job, and the longer I talk to him, the more I want this one. I want to meet Abby, I want to be there for this kid whose mother left her high and dry. I suppose, with Frost’s lifestyle, he may very well be the catalyst to Mom leaving, but how come she didn’t take the daughter with her?

And, let’s be honest, working for an unmarried dad is a hell of a lot safer than working for a couple, given my history. At least I won’t have to worry about my one-time screw-up coming back to haunt me, because there’s no one in his life to care or worry that I might be lured into his bed. “Wait—are you seeing someone?”

He laughs. “Did you miss the part where I was hitting on you a minute ago?”

“No, but that doesn’t always stop people.”

“True. But I’m not one of those people. Which is why I don’t do relationships. Don’t have to worry about landing in the rough that way.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a golf analogy. You don’t know golf?”

Danny loves golf, although he’s neither very good at it nor can he ever afford to play unless someone invites him, as a last resort, to join a foursome already paid for. His mild obsession with the sport is as close as I’ve ever gotten to it. “Nope. Not really.”

Frost shakes his head, but there’s a sparkle in his eye. “I knew there was something off about you.”

“I’m a quick study if knowing golf is one of your criteria for employment. Is your daughter a child prodigy or something?”

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