Page 65 of Love Me Dangerous

Mr. Lennox laughs. Next to him on the table is an envelope. “It’s a great way to tire him out, that’s for sure.”

I give Mr. Lennox the pass-down from the night. Arlo’s bedtime and our activities.

Mr. Lennox nods along while sipping his coffee, seeming to ignore the envelope on purpose. What else does he want from me? “Thank you again. It gave me peace of mind having you here.”

I sip my coffee. “Did your meeting go well?”

His eyes brighten. “Yes! Actually, I was up for most of the night, reading the script. It’s delightful.”

“Congratulations, then?” I break off a bite of croissant. I’m not sure if this is the right response, but Mr. Lennox beams, so it must be close enough.

His lips purse, like he’s thinking. He sets his coffee on the saucer. “I haven’t taken on a role that requires traveling since, well, before Arlo.”

“Where will you need to go?”

“Iceland, of all places. And the UK as well.”

“That sounds exciting,” I say. “You and Arlo will get to see them together.”

He glances at me, his sharp eyes keen. “Would you consider a job as Arlo’s nanny?”

My stomach drops. “Me?”

He taps the envelope, then gazes at me again, his look turning shrewd, calculating. “I have a stack of resumes to weed through, but I already know who I want.”

He slides the envelope to me. “I’ve put a package together. Everything you need to know is in there, including your salary and benefits. Also, your compensation for last night. Look everything over. Give it some thought.”

“This is, um, a surprise.”

He smiles. “Think of it as an opportunity. A year of traveling with us. Mostly work but we’ll take time to play too.”

I don’t sense he means anything sly by this, and besides that quick brush of his fingertips in my palm last night, there’s been no hints that he expects anything beyond my role as his kid’s caregiver.

But even without that worry, accepting his offer would mean a year apart from my family.

And though I don’t have words for my feelings yet, what about Zach?

Chapter Sixteen

SOFIE

I carryanother box of carefully packed hand-thrown pottery from Kirilee’s BMW to her booth. Though the icy morning wind ruffles the grass and rattles the Easy-Up tents standing guard over the rows of booths, there’s not a cloud in the sky for Autumn Fest.

“Do you really think people will buy these?” Kirilee asks with a flicker of worry in her green eyes as she unwraps another beautifully glazed mug and sets it next to one equally as precious. “Maybe I should lower the price.”

“You did your research. Twenty-five is fair.”

“Right,” she says, nodding, but it’s not convincing.

“What’s your biggest worry?”

“That my dad will show up,” she says. “Tell me to stop being ridiculous.”

I carefully open the box I carried and unpack a set of mixing bowls. “Do you think you’re being ridiculous?”

“No.” She huffs. “I love making things. I would give them away if the event staff would let me.”

Ava arrives with another of Kirilee’s boxes. “And even if they did, I wouldn’t.”

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