Page 37 of Curvy Nanny for the Nerd

Brady gave my hand a quick squeeze and let me pull him to a table on the edge of the beach. Like a perfect gentleman, he helped me onto the high-backed stool and let his hand linger on my thigh. “This dress,” he growled.

“Better than the jeans?”

His nostrils flared. “Nothing is better than those jeans, but this dress? Fantastic.” He licked his lips and leaned in, brushing a kiss against my lips so hot that my core quivered. He took his seat beside me and smiled. “What’s good here?” He asked just as the waitress appeared.

“The fish taco platter is amazing, at least that’s what I hear, but I usually come here alone, so I haven’t had a chance to sample it yet.” I held my breath and waited for disgust or exasperation to cross his face, but Brady’s smile widened.

“The fish taco platter sounds perfect. As long as it comes with lots of different sauces?”

“It does,” I said at the same time as the waitress. “And even better? The margaritas come in big ass glasses.” I smiled at the waitress. “Strawberry mango for me and watermelon lime forhim.” I turned to him, expecting to see a frown or some other sign of displeasure but there was just a hint of amusement and a small dollop of affection.

“Sounds good to me. Now I just have one question. Is this the kind of place that has fresh chips and salsa?”

The waitress smiled. “On the house,” she said and disappeared.

Brady turned his full attention to me, a smile on his handsome face. “So, did I pass?”

“Pass what?”

“Your test.” He leaned in close enough that I felt his warm breath on my face. “Bringing me to this taco stand for dinner?”

“Not a test, I’m just allowing you to see me. The real me.”

He studied me for a long moment and then sat back and stared some more. “And this taco hut is the real you?”

I nodded. “It is, part of me anyway. Just because I grew up with access to money and everything that brings, doesn’t mean that’s who I am. I love fish tacos and margaritas as much as I love my Louboutin wedges,” I told him and kicked my leg out to show off my shoes.

“If the tacos are as good as you look in those shoes, I totally get it.” He brushed a fingertip up from my ankle up to the hem of my dress. “A nanny who loves tacos and designer shoes. Tell me more.”

“I like kids. But I grew up surrounded by nannies and house staff who were all nice, but I was a job, you know? Other than the housekeeper, I was a duty to them. I wanted to give kids an adult who was interested in them and cared about their everyday lives. Someone who cares about what they have going on beyond how it makes their parents look.”

“Sounds like a story?” He leaned in close and took my hand.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s an age old story of a wealthy woman wanted to mold her daughter in her exact image. I balked andrebelled at every turn, and our relationship worsened with every act of rebellion.” I hated to think about the shit my mother said to me over the years and the awful things I said in return. “Enough about me. Tell me about you and Marnie.”

“We were close growing up despite the age difference. She was my best friend and my protector, but she left for college before I was ready. We were as close as we could be as adults, but she and her husband traveled for work and I was busy building my company.”

“Your company,” I said flatly. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he owned his own business, but that was all I knew. “What exactly is it that you do, Brady?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You haven’t looked me up?”

I shrugged and looked away. “No. I like to get to know people for myself, not through the filter of other people. I want to know what you want me to know.”

He looked uncomfortable, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t get upset or hurt if he didn’t want to share.

“I’m just curious how you spend your days when you’re holed up in your office. What fires you up?”

He leaned forward with desire swimming in his eyes. “You.”

I bit back the disappointment I felt and changed the subject just as our margaritas arrive. “To the best margaritas in Houston.”

Conversation shifted to more mundane topics that didn’t mean anything. Subjects like sports and music, things I wouldn’t remember tomorrow or the next day. The highlight, other than the view of Brady, was the tacos.

The moonlit walk on the beach should have been romantic, and it was, kind of, but it was colored by Brady’s reluctance to open up and share anything about himself.

It doesn’t matter,I told myself over and over again. He didn’t owe me the details of his life. He didn’t owe me anything.

“Toni.” Brady stopped in front of me, pulling me from my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

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