Page 73 of The Overtime Kiss

I shouldn’t have said that. Not in front of the kids. Not about her.

Becausestunningis not a word you use for your nanny.

I never said it about Agatha.

But the kids are too hyped up to notice my slip. They’re already rushing for the door, pumpkins made of recycled plastic clutched in their hands, riding that pure Halloween high.

Sabrina, though, is frozen in place. Like she wasn’t expecting my reaction. Then, a small smile coasts across her lips, like the compliment meant everything to her. “Thank you,” she says, but she clears her expression quickly as we make our way into the late October evening, the streets already filled with zombies and cowboys and Marvel heroes. “I know candy isn’t really your guilty pleasure, but if you spot a NutRageous bar, I call dibs.”

“That’s a rare and special candy bar,” I say, lifting a brow.

She sighs, a little wistful. “And it’s a Reese’s candy bar, so I don’t know why it’s not more common. But it’s incredible. I always wanted one on Halloween as a kid.”

I frown. “You didn’t have them?”

She laughs. “My dad never let me.”

And somehow, some way, I know I’m going to find a NutRageous bar for the figure skater I’m crushing on.

Even if I shouldn’t be.

19

SUPER NANNY

Sabrina

It’s better than I remembered.

The chocolate, the nuts, the peanut butter, the caramel—it’schef’s kissgood.

I take another bite of the NutRageous bar that Tyler left on the kitchen counter for me this morning.

I don’t think he found it while trick-or-treating with the kids. No idea how he got it this fast. But it’s delicious. And it’s mine.

Just like the house is today.

The kids are at school, then heading to Elle’s tonight. Tyler has morning skate and a game this evening. By the time he comes home in the afternoon to rest before puck drop, I’ll be teaching.

It’s good—this structure, this routine. It’s kept me from thinking too much about last week.

The week where I took a misstep—hard.

If I were making a list of what not to do, right at the top,I’d write: Don’t grind against your boss. Don’t tell him how much you want him.

But I’ve been Super Nanny since then.

I want him to know I can do what he needs—pretend it didn’t happen. So I’ve been excellent at pretending.

Perfect,really.

Isn’t that what all my training was really about? Being perfect. Nailing something. Achieving excellence.

I set the half-eaten NutRageous bar on the counter. I’ll finish it later.

For now, I grab the laundry basket I brought upstairs earlier and haul it to the next level, where I toss my clothes into the washing machine.

And that’s when I hesitate.

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