Page 33 of The Nanny Goal

I flush and look down.

Alexei clears his throat. “I do need to get back to the team. Right now, they are in St. Louis, and I understand I cannot be there with them. That is okay. But by the time they return, I want to be back on the roster, and so it is important that I figure out the right care for Inessa and the house. It’s why I am so grateful for Emery coming to stay with us.”

The reminder that I’m going to stay here,here, alone with him and his daughter, and maybe this horrible Russian nanny, too, is just too much.

“Mom, I?—”

“Well, keep us posted,” my mom says brightly, her peak midwestern cheer effectively cutting me off, and then transitioning them out the door before I can protest.

Alexei sees them out, which puts me alone with Inessa and Nanny Nyet.

As Ms. Petrova stares at me with undisguised curiosity, I can hear Alexei getting caught up in another conversation with my dad at the door.

“You are a chef?” the nanny finally asks bluntly.

“Yep.” I pop the p on purpose, which makes Inessa giggle. She might not speak a lot of English, but my girl clearly appreciates a good dose of attitude.

Smiling shy, she comes over and tugs on my hand.

We might not speak the same language, but in this moment, I can read her mind. I sit down so we’re at the same level. “Do you want to see the photos of your dad?”

She takes my phone with glee, whining a little as I whisper for her to wait for me to open the app.

“I would have to insist on a no screen policy,” Nanny Nyet says. “For everyone in the house while the child is awake.”

My head snaps up. I give her awhat the fuckglare. “I use my phone while I’m cooking.”

There isn’t a chance in hell I’m going to cook all of Alexei’s meals without suitably distracting entertainment.

Nanny Nyet sniffs. “If she sees your phone, she wants to play with it.”

Yeah, because she knows I’ve got cool Papa Makeover apps on my phone. “Phones are fun.”

“Fun?” Her eyebrows arch. “Well. That’s a simplistic way of thinking about it.”

I glance back to Inessa, but she’s already figured out the app and doesn’t need my help.

Since Ms. Petrova asked me about being a chef, I figure that’s a safe question to pop back at her. “How long have you been in childcare?”

“Twenty years.”

I wonder how many times in those twenty years she’s been fired for having a stick up her butt. “That’s great. A lot of experience. Do you find that people really like rigid rules?”

She sucks in a disapproving breath.

Awkward.

“I’ll just go say goodbye to my parents,” I say, pushing to my feet.

The front door is ajar, and as I walk down the hall I can see them still talking on the steps.

But as I reach the door, I hear my name, and I go still.

“Emery is still very strong willed,” Alexei says.

I gasp. Excuse me? Pretty sure the last time we were together, I was pathetically weak-willed and he enjoyed it very much.

“I think the word you’re looking for is stubborn as hell,” my dad says.

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