Page 12 of Lucky Strike

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, charmed as I was appalled.

“Couldn’t resist,” he said, coming closer. “They’re almost as pretty as you.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t step back, ignoring my spasming heart. “Uh huh. I bet this is your dad’s boat or something, and you bring girls here all the time.”

“Nope.” He shook his head slowly. “It’s not?—”

I reached up, pushing his mask back before he could stop me, andwow. This kid was gorgeous, and judging by that cocky smirk, he knew it. “Is Lucky your real name?” I asked, thinking of the shamrock tattoo.

“For all intents and purposes.” He came closer again, and I retreated, stopping when I felt the prickle of plants behind me.

His hand wrapped around my hip, and I held my ground, breathing him in. He smelled woodsy and clean, and it was distracting. “You’re trouble.” I didn’t know why I said it aloud. He was so close now, his light eyes sparkling with mischief and something else, something darker.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, slowly pushing my mask up. “Can I kiss you?”

I’d been kissed before. Luis Ramirez, during truth or dare in eighth grade, and Gino Johnson, who I’d made out with after school a couple times. But something told me that kissing Lucky would be different, and I wanted that.Badly.

No sooner had I nodded when his mouth covered mine in a soft kiss. I parted my lips, and he slid his tongue inside, caressing it against mine. He tasted like cinnamon alcohol and cigarettes. Lucky turned my face gently, changing the angle of our kisses, and suddenly I understood the concept of weak knees.

Suddenly the door opened. “Why am I not surprised? You better have clothes on, you brat.”

Horrified, I broke away from Lucky and yanked my mask back down. A man in a suit, tie loosened, top buttons undone, leaned in the doorway, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“I was just showing her the garden,” Lucky protested.

“I bet you were.” The man straightened, pointing to the dock. “Out. The both of ya.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. Mortified, I hurried past him, leaving the greenhouse’s balmy warmth for the harbor’s cold November chill. Back on the dock, I slipped into my shoes and hightailed it back toward the terrace, not even bothering to wait for Lucky. He caught up to me anyway, mask back in place.

“Thanks for the warning, bozos,” he called to his band of merry men, who giggled as we approached.

“There was no time,” one slurred, holding his hands up. “He came outta the party and made a beeline for you guys like he knew what was up. He’s probably got cameras onboard or something,bozo.”

Heart pounding, hoping my absence hadn’t been noticed by anyone, I turned toward the terrace. But Lucky grabbed my hand again, stopping me. “I lied, by the way.”

“I can see that,” I said dryly.

“Not about that,” he said, laughing. “Don’t worry about my uncle. He’s not gonna say anything.” He squeezed my hand. “I meant about my costume. I am Romeo.” Kissing my cheek, he walked away, melting into the shadows with his friends.

4.Bria

Now

Nola’s eyes volley between the two of us for a moment before she clears her throat. “I would introduce you, but it seems you know one another.” She hands my résumé to Lucky. “Let me know when you’d like to schedule a second interview with Ms. Grant. I can?—”

“That won’t be necessary, Nola,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. It’s been years since we’ve been in the same room together, since we had a meaningful conversation, and he still makes a mess of my emotions. “Ms. Grant won’t be a good fit.”

My heart jolts in dismay. And pain. Warmth rushes to my face, and I fumble for the doorknob. “Thank you for your time, Nola,” I blurt, desperate to escape. The foyer, so sunny and bright, suddenly seems claustrophobic.

Nola frowns, stepping toward me, but I’ve already managed to let myself out. Closing the door with a careful click, I hurry down the steps and make a left at the sidewalk. I have no idea where I’m going, but I have to get the hell away from here.

I can’t believe Maeve. Why would she try and set me up as a nanny to her brother’s child? And not tell me, for God’s sake? He looked asshocked as I did, too, which means she played us both. I suck in a jagged breath, my mind a dizzy whirl of questions and memories. I can’t help it; I feel betrayed. Sheknowshow I used to feel about him.

Pausing at an intersection, I look both ways before jogging across, not caring to wait for the light. I walk for a good while, long enough that the shock of seeing Lucky finally wears off, as does some of the sting of his dismissal. And that’s when the main issue comes flooding back: I still need a job, badly.

Taking a bite of my bagel,I scribble down the details of yet another agency on a sticky note. I’ve been combing through directories and message boards on the nannying app I use, trying to find job listings and reputable nanny agencies. It’s reassuring to know I have a skillset that’s in high demand. There’s a lot of money in a city like Boston, especially old money.

A text comes through on my phone. It’s Maeve again, begging me to talk to her. She left a voicemail last night and another this morning. I’m not ready to talk to her. Not yet. I know she has everyone’s best interests at heart, that she’d never do anything purposely cruel, but I’m genuinely baffled at what she was trying to accomplish. Right now, my main focus is employment. I’ll deal with Maeve and her lack of discernment later.

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