Page 10 of The Rogue

Keeping anopen mind, I suppose “perky” is good for keeping up with Jackson’s energy.

“Levi,” she announces brightly, like we’re old friends. We only spoke on the phone once when setting up her appointment. Other than that, I don’t know her. “I'm Sophie.”

I shake her hand with a firm grip. “Nice to meet you, Sophie.” Then stretch it out to a nearby booth. “Please have a seat.”

Sophie settles in. “Thank you for meeting with me. At first, I was surprised it’s not at the actual home, but I can understand that.”

Intrigue captures my attention. “Can you?”

“Absolutely. And I totally agree. Bringing around random people talking about your son in front of him must be super uncomfortable for the little guy.”

I grin, impressed at her consideration—even if she is way off. She also clearly forgot his name since referring to ‘him’ and ‘little guy'. Giving her the benefit of the doubt—I drop his name. “Jackson’s with one of my brothers at his place right now.”

She bats her lashes at me.

“So, tell me about your experience with children.”

Sophie takes a breath and launches into a well-rehearsed speech about her time babysitting for various families in town. She seems enthusiastic. But I’m not loving the way she stretches her hand out to mine every few words expressing how hard it must be for me and how she’s looking forward to getting to know “him” and me.

It's forward and intrusive.

I sigh, glancing at Dad. His brow is perked almost as a reminder to keep that open mind.

“And what do you like to do in your free time?” If bar hopping or skinny-dipping is on this girl’s list, I’m saying ‘thank you for your time’ immediately.

“I’m really into yoga,” Sophie replies, her eyes twinkling with delight. “You'll have to try it with me sometime.”

I smile,and just for shits, I ask. “Do you have any questions about…Max?”

Sophie blinks, seeming momentarily lost. “Oh, right. Um, what’s he like?”

My jaw tightens.You don’t deserve to know what he’s like.I’m about to tell her exactly why she’s not getting the job when my father interjects.

“Hey, Levi, I think your next interview is here so you should probably wrap up. Now.”

With a tight jaw, I nod at his warning glare for me to take it easy. When he walks away, I thank Sophie without so much as a grin and tell her I’ll be in touch.

I rub my temples with a groan.

Fucking useless.

Am I the problem?

Barely a moment passes before the door opens again, and a stern-looking woman in her fifties walks in. Her posture is rigid as she approaches me with a brisk stride.

“Mr. Reeves? I’m Margaret,” she introduces, shaking my hand firmly—and briefly—before sitting down.

My eyes flash to Dad, and he presses his palms down, mouthing the words, “Cool it.”

“Nice to meet you, Margaret. Thanks for coming,” I offer robotically. “Can you tell me about your experience?” I don’t bother masking my lack of enthusiasm.

Margaret opens with a detailed narrative of her years as a nanny and her strict approach to childcare. Including structure of the home, schoolwork and maintaining a schedule.

“I believe children thrive on routine,” Margaret says with a tight-lipped smile. “It’s important to set boundaries and consistency.”

Somehow, I don’t think her definition of boundaries is the same as mine.

I nod slowly. “Jackson is very free-spirited. He loves to explore, ask questions, get a little dirty, and stay up late. How would you handle his energy and curiosity?”

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