Page 16 of Never Bargain with the Boss

“If you say so,” she teases, holding up her fingers in an X like she’s cursing my healthy breakfast. She hisses at it too, like she’s an actual cat.

I pour the small remaining bit of shake in the blender into another cup and hold it out to her. “Try it.” She instantly and vehemently shakes her head. I take a big swallow of my own and then dramatically moan like it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever had, all the while shaking the other cup at her like that might entice her to give in.

When I arch a brow in obvious challenge, she narrows her eyes. “Fine, but if I die of food poisoning, Cole’s gonna be pissed at you.” Despite her bluster, she takes the cup, careful to not touch me, and then peers into it like the thick liquid might jump out at her. She sniffs it and her brows knit.

“It smells like chocolate.” Before the small win can stroke my considerable ego, she adds, “And grass. I hate the smell of grass.” She sticks her tongue out like she’s gagging, even though she hasn’t taken a drink yet.

Who hates the smell of a freshly-mowed yard? It’s the quintessential scent of spring. But Riley is pinching her nose like she’s taking gross-tasting medicine, not drinking a healthyshake. She does it, though, gulping it down like a shot of cheap whiskey.

After she’s released her nose, her tongue peeks out, licking her lips delicately, and my eyes zero in on the pink tip, watching her trace the line of shake still on her lips. But when it disappears, she frowns. “Actually, that’s not as bad as I expected.”

I tilt my head, giving her a look of ‘told you so’, before taking another swallow of my own shake. “Ahh.” I smack my lips, pleased with myself for getting her to try it and admit that she liked it. “You’re welcome to make it a double, one for you and one for me, if you want.”

She glances down at the remnants in her cup. “We’ll see.”

I’ve been a parent long enough to know what that means—no.

“You don’t have to make it, then. I can do it.”

Before the words are out of my mouth, she’s already shaking her head in disagreement. “I got it. Pancakes. Protein shake. Every morning.” She taps her temple like she’s making a mental note, though I seriously doubt she has a whiteboard in there she’s scribbling on. If it were me, I’d put alarmed alerts on my phone to serve as a daily reminder. Riley definitely doesn’t do that, but she declares, “Consider it done.”

Grabbing the blender pitcher, she moves to the sink, giving me her back, but I catch her eyes watching me in the window’s reflection.

“Okay. Thanks,” I stammer, measuring the set of her shoulders to see if she’s feeling some sort of way about adding that task to her to-do list. In my experience, women pivot on you when they’re angry, frustrated, or upset and want to hide that from you. But Riley’s just scrubbing the pitcher normally, not too hard and not wasting any water with snappish splashing.

People do things for me. It’s one of the benefits of being who I am. At the office, people are paid—hell, they fight over the opportunity—to do grunt work for me. At home, I pay for someone to scrub toilets and vacuum, wash my car, and yeah, take care of my child.

All that to say I can’t remember the last person who volunteered to make me breakfast. It had to be the nanny I likened to Mrs. Doubtfire, a bit dramatic, a lot old-fashioned, and who was, ultimately, unable to keep up with Grace’s schedule. I think the time at the barn is what really did her in. But the others? They’d take care of Grace and leave me to fend for myself, as they should’ve because they were hired as nannies, not house managers.

Riley seems pretty dead set on doing it, though, and I’m not going to stop her, especially with what I’m paying for her services. If she wants to take on house manager-level work, I’ll sure as shit let her and consider it a positive return on my investment.

Feeling better about this deal, I excuse myself to get ready for work, which she acknowledges with a faint lift of her chin, not sparing a glance my way.

When I step into my bathroom and see myself in the mirror, I curse. Not only was I shirtless in front of the new nanny, but the time spent standing in front of the cold fridge, making my shake, and drinking the frosty beverage has dried all the sweat on my chest and hardened my nipples into fucking points. Plus, the ring of sweat at the waist of my shorts doesn’t leave much to the imagination as to what’s inside the polyester fabric. Luckily, even with the shrinkage from the cold, I’m not exactly small.

Not that it matters. I shouldn’t even be worrying about it, anyway.

Because Riley is the new nanny, nothing more. I don’t care if she thinks I have a micro-penis or a monster in my shortsbecause things are strictly professional between us. She’s here to take care of Grace, and that’s it.

But it does explain why she was staring at me so blatantly.

“Way to go, asshole. Start the first full day with a little sexual harassment, why don’t you?” I growl at my reflection, but he doesn’t grant any mercy.

RILEY

After school, I follow the GPS to the barn where Grace has horseback riding lessons, and when I pull in, she tells me where to park. “You can sit in your car if you want. Or you could watch?” She says it casually, but she cuts her eyes toward a fenced-in area I can see in the distance. She wants me there.

“I’d love to watch you,” I assure her genuinely. “Tell me where to go and show me whatcha got.” She’s been doing that for the last couple of days already, but based on her excitement to get to the barn, I have a feeling I’m about to see a new side of Grace, and I can’t wait.

“Really?” Her smile is wide and filled with joy, and she virtually leaps from the car. “Come on! You can meet my horse, Pegasus, and the barn cat, Cricket. He tried to ride on Pegasus’s back one time and it was so funny. That’s how Pegasus got his name, because he was literally flying, trying to get Cricket off him.”

Her exuberant chatter carries us into a large barn, where I see rows of half-doors on either side of a wide aisle. Grace runs up to one stall and stops. “Hey, Pegasus,” she coos, her entire energy changing and her voice calming as she greets thehorse, who answers her with a whinny. “This is Riley. She’s my new nanny. Yeah, another one.” She rolls her eyes like she and Pegasus have had this conversation countless times before.

As I come up to the door beside Grace, I see the horse for the first time. Pegasus is huge, or seems like it to me, but I’ve never been around horses, so what do I know? He’s beautiful, dark brown with white socks on all four legs and a long black mane and tail, and his nose is wiggling, scenting the air. I hold my hand out, letting the horse sniff me too. He seems friendly, so after a moment, I risk gently rubbing above his nose. When he presses into my touch, I gasp, feeling like a Disney princess. “I think he likes me,” I whisper to Grace.

“He kinda likes everyone,” she says, ruining my fantasy. Totally comfortable with the horse, she pets along his neck and tells him, “I’m gonna get you out of here, ’kay? But let me show Riley where to sit first.” She waves for me to follow her, and I do, though I walk while she runs.

Back outside, she leads me to a set of bleachers set beside a big ring surrounded in white fencing. “You can sit here.” I do as instructed, taking a seat high enough to be able to see everything. Grace nods her approval. “I need to change and get Pegasus ready for my lesson. That’s part of my responsibilities.”

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