Page 2 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Nanny

"And I'm from Nebraska, not Oklahoma," I growled. The speed with which he identified me as an out-of-towner only flamed my anger.

He looked down his sharp nose at me, scanning his judgmental gaze up and down my figure. "Same difference."

I balled my fists. Arrogant jerk.

Up close, he was even bigger and more intimidating than he seemed from across the room. My nose was right at his chest level. He had wide shoulders that made him seem like a brick wall. Not that I was going to let him intimidate me. His eyes shimmered with amusement as I refused to step back. I had no doubt that he expected me to apologize for the accident.

"You need to watch your step before you piss off the wrong person, or you're not going to last very long in Huntington Harbor."

Was that a threat? Before I could even process his words, he picked up his laptop from the table behind him and walked out of the door. How strange. From the large front window, I watched him make his way down the sidewalk and disappear into the crowd.

The barista rushed over and handed me a bunch of paper napkins. "Oh my. Let me make you a fresh cup."

I dabbed at the coffee on my jacket. "No, that's okay. It's my fault, and I've already caused enough trouble for you." I gestured toward the window where a beam of sunlight spilled into the coffee shop. "Besides, the rain has already stopped, just like you said it would."

On the hour-long bus ride back home, I stewed in my anger and coffee-soaked clothes. What a jerk! The nerve of that man to threaten me after he was the one who invaded my space.

I got off at the bus stop near my apartment. As usual, the front door of the building was jammed shut. The lock had been broken for as long as I lived here, so the sticky door was actually the only security measure we had against strangers wandering into the building. I kicked the door repeatedly until it finally popped open.

Junk mail littered the entryway, which meant the mailman had already been here this morning. Our mailbox was filled with the usual, ads and bills. Not that I expected anything else. Well, a check from an unknown millionaire aunt would have been nice, but the chance of an inheritance coming my way was as likely to happen as getting struck by lightning.

When I opened the door and stepped into the living room, Katie was sitting on the floor behind the coffee table and buried up to her chest in a pile of yarn balls. We were both in between jobs right now. To make some money, my roommate ran an online store selling crocheted stuffed toys.

Her chestnut hair was tied up in a messy bun and a fuzzy pink headband held back the unruly strands around her face. She was still dressed in her blue penguin pajamas, and it looked like she hadn't moved since I left earlier to go to Huntington Harbor.

I kicked off my wet shoes next to the front door and tossed the bills onto the coffee table before I collapsed on the cheap futon behind her.

"What are you making this time?"

"Baby Yoda sitting in a space pod."

She stuck her hand inside the still unstuffed project and moved her fingers so that the deflated crocheted Yoda nodded at me. Most of the orders she received were for custom fan commissions.

"Cute. Has the agency called you yet?"

Katie stabbed her crochet hook into the project and worked another row of stitches.

"No. I think they've tossed my file into the trash."

I settled into the cushions. My heart sank. Katie was the one who referred me to the agency, and she had joined long before I even submitted my application. If Katie, with her multiple impressive talents, couldn't get a callback, then what hope did I have?

Her crochet hook paused in the middle of the next stitch. Katie sniffed the air and crinkled her nose. "Why do you smell like a wet dog that's rolled in a puddle of coffee?"

"Ugh. Don't even get me started. This whole morning was awful. You wouldn't believe the guy I ran into."

Just then, my phone started ringing in my jacket pocket. I looked at the screen and then at Katie.

"It's the agency."

She tossed aside her crochet project and scrambled up onto the futon next to me. "Well, what are you waiting for? Answer it."

I accepted the call and put it on speaker. As if the person on the other end of the line could see me, I straightened my back and sat primly on the edge of my seat. Clearing my throat, I put on my best professional-sounding voice.

"Hello, this is Lacey Conway speaking."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Conway. This is Gladys at Discreet Talent Connections. I am calling to inform you that you have been selected for a nanny position. The client has requested that you start immediately."

I frowned. "Nanny? I thought I would be assigned an assistant or an office job."

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