Page 51 of Single Dad's Hot Nanny

When I was no longer being threatened by bookies, I’d find that fucker, Logan. I’d squeeze every cent I paid on his behalf out of him. I snorted at that thought. Knowing me, I’d likely let it go and move on with my life, but making him pay was a nice dream.

“Things are looking up,” I said into the empty kitchen. I’d get my life on the right track soon. Straightening my shoulders, I inhaled the sweet fragrance of my new responsible self and went to wake Poppy.

I stepped out of my car… Well, Michael’s car. The one I had access to for taking Poppy around town when his driver wasn’t available. Although it wasn’t mine, I was glad I didn’t have to show up to my parents’ by bus, taxi, or my brother’s generosity.

For my twenty-second birthday, I was having dinner with the family, and I was finally out of the useless loser category. I had a job and everything. Smiling, I teetered up the driveway on heels that I didn’t usually wear for casual get-togethers. It went withthe sophisticated pants suit I wore and my no-nonsense up-do hairstyle.

At the door, I straightened my blazer and rang the doorbell. My brother answered with a smile.

“The girl of the hour has arrived. Happy birthday, kidd?—”

I shot him a pointed stare.

“Mia… a veryadultMia,” he finished with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes as he moved in for a hug, but I grasped his shoulders and gave him air kisses instead. Jonathan drew back to give me a quizzical luck. “What the fuck was that? Since when do you act like Mom?”

“Watch your language, Jonathan.” I gave him a disapproving look. The look-down-the-nose one our mother had perfected.

“You sound like her too.” My brother swept me from head to toe and realization gleamed in his eyes. “Oh my God. What are you wearing? Mia, this is ridiculous.”

“Shush,” I snapped. “This will be theonefamily dinner where I’m not looked upon as the odd one out.” I inhaled and smoothed a hand over my impeccably laid hair. “I’m one of you this evening.”

Jonathan shook his head at my haughty tone as he closed the door. “Mia, you don’t have to do this. We love you. You know that.”

I sighed. “I know thatyoudo. I’m not quite sold on Mom and Dad…”

He got the sympathetic and concerned look in his eyes he always got when we were around our parents. I squeezed his arm affectionately in a silent gesture to tell him to stop worrying about me. I then squared my shoulders with the confidence I barely felt. I figured I could hide behind the clothes, hair, and makeup for a few hours with my parents. They’d see me as their brand new daughter who had her head screwed on straight, and I could make my escape knowing I finally had their approval.

I walked into the dining room with a smile that almost faltered when I saw my dad’s stern face. He sat at the head of the table with an open newspaper. I kept up my smile and glided over to him, the way Mom would.

“Hello, Father,” I greeted him in a cool, steady stone… which was unlike the bubbly “Hey, Dad!” he usually got.

When I gave him a peck on the cheek, he gave me a bemused look like the one Jonathan had given me. “Mia…” He studied me over the glasses perched on his nose. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” I waltzed over to Mom, who was in the process of taking a dish out of the oven. She pulled off her mitts as I got closer and gave me a once over. “Mia, you look nice.”

Warmth spread through me. It was the first time hearing those words from her mouth. “Thanks, Mom.” I assessed her tailored slacks and silk blouse. She always looked impeccable, even at home. “You look great, as always.”

She smiled. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” After giving me air kisses, she said, “You’re finally taking my advice about your clothes. I hope you’ve burned those crop tops, ripped jeans, and flip-flops.”

The warmth that engulfed me cooled a bit. That was my mother… She showed affection—more than Dad—before she got condescending. “Erm… sure…”

From my periphery, I saw Jonathan raise his eyebrows. I ignored him because I felt foolish for resorting to pretending to be someone I wasn’t to please my parents.

“Can I help with anything?” I asked.

“It’s your birthday.” She shooed me away. “Go, sit. Catch up with your father.”

My plastic smile somehow remained in place. Chatting with Commander Sergeant Major Clarke…yikes. He hadn’t mellowed out an ounce since retirement. As I walked over to him, my feet dragged, weighed down with dread.

An hour later, I’d survived the excruciating task of small talk with my old man, and dinner was under way. It was so mentally taxing having to remember not to slouch or not to use the wrong fork for my salad. Having June Cleaver and Captain America as parents was tough…

“So…” I began to quell the awkward silence. Perhaps I was the only one feeling awkward because I was a chatterbox. “Thanks for this birthday dinner, Mom.” I was surprised when she’d called and told me to come over for my big day.

“I had to do something to see you. You haven’t visited your father and me for what… four months?”

Her disapproving look that made one feel like shit hit me hard, and heat filled my cheeks. “Well, I’ve been busy.”

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