Page 82 of Holiday Hire

I tell the boys, "We both have different ideas on what horse is going to win."

"Ooh, who are you going to bet on?" Wilder asks, turning to Phoebe.

"Um...uh..."

I interject, realizing that she doesn't know any of the horses' names. "Boys, which one do you think Phoebe will bet on?"

Wilder and Ace cry out at the same time, "Sweetie Pie!"

I jerk my head back. "Sweetie Pie? Why would you think Sweetie Pie will win?"

"Duh. She's going to take it all tonight!" Ace proclaims.

Wilder agrees. "Yeah, she's been running really well. She's beaten Tycoon all week."

"No way," I state, not believing it. I always bet on Tycoon. He's our golden goose, winning more races than I can count. I've trained Sweetie Pie the same way I trained Tycoon, but she's still young and never beat him before.

"Dad, Sweetie Pie is going to win," Ace confidently asserts.

"You think so, huh?" I ask, taking a bite of the pancakes. The buttery syrup bursts on my tongue, and I groan. "This tastes so good."

"That's because you've barely eaten this last week," Phoebe acknowledges.

"Maybe you're just a good cook," I offer and then wink.

She laughs. "Maybe I've picked up some talent from Georgia."

"Ah. Now, that would be every man's dream. A woman who could cook like Georgia and do art like you," I tease.

Red sprawls up her neck and into her cheeks, and I realize what I just said. I quickly add, "Figuratively speaking."

"Right." She takes a sip of coffee and turns toward the boys. "So, Sweetie Pie gets my bet!"

"Yes!" Wilder shouts, pumping his fist in the air.

"Tycoon's going down tonight!" Ace exclaims.

I chuckle. "Easy there. You've always loved Tycoon."

"But Sweetie Pie's going to win," Ace insists.

"Yep. No doubt," Wilder claims, and shoves another forkful of food in his mouth.

"Well, I think Tycoon will prove all of you wrong," I declare, confident in his abilities. I dip bacon in my egg yolk, then bite half the strip.

The boys get up, take their plates to the sink, and wash them.

I lean closer to Phoebe. "What have you done to my sons?"

Her lips twitch. She whispers, "They earn gold stars."

"Ah. And what are they earning now?"

She shrugs, confessing, "I told them it's a surprise." She glances at the boys, then murmurs, "I have to figure it out." Her hot breath hits my ear, and zings fly down my spine.

She sits back, puts her finger over her lips, and smiles.

The room lights up. My heart pounds harder in my chest. I don't know what's happening to me, but anytime she's come into my bedroom this week, I've felt something in my gut. I don't know what it is. I'm trying to push it away. After all, she is my kids' nanny and way younger than me.

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