Page 40 of Nanny for Grumpy Grant
And then he sees me.
His gaze locks on mine, and that easy grin spreads across his face.
Too late to pretend I didn’t see him.
He heads straight for my table, cutting through the crowd with ease. My heart ticks faster with every step he takes. When he stops in front of me, I glance up and forget how to speak for a second.
“Hey, Ivy,” he says, his voice low and warm. “Mind if I join you?”
I blink. “Uh—no. I mean, yes. I mean, of course.”
I start to stand without thinking—some old reflex from polite family dinners and awkward prom dates.
That’s probably when he sees the full dress, because his smile curves a little more, “Nice dress.” He says and slides into the booth across from me, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Didn’t expect to run into my brother’s new nanny looking like she just stepped out of a magazine.”
I roll my eyes and take a sip of my drink, hoping it cools the sudden heat in my cheeks. “Didn’t expect to run into my boss’s brother at my favorite high school hangout.”
He grins wider. “Touche.”
14
COLE
“Touché,” I say, grinning at her across the table.
She’s trying to play it cool, sipping her drink like she’s not blushing halfway down her neck. But I see it—the flicker of nerves, the curiosity, the guarded spark in her eyes that wasn’t there yesterday when I stopped by Grant’s place.
The girl’s changed. Grown up. And I’m not just talking about the dress, though damn—thatdress.
It’s simple, nothing flashy—soft blue cotton that hugs her waist and dips just enough at the collar to make a man forget how to breathe. Her legs are crossed beneath the table, and the hem hits just above the knee, teasing more than it shows. It’s the kind of dress that doesn’t try too hard, and maybe that’s what makes it so damn effective.
“I always figured you were a jeans-and-boots kind of girl,” I say, resting my forearms on the table, casual. “Didn’t realize you could also pull off… whatever this is.”
She snorts. “That’s not a compliment, Cole.”
“It is,” I say, lips quirking. “A very stunned, honest one.”
She laughs—finally, a real one—and rolls her eyes again. But there’s a tiny smile she doesn’t bother hiding.
“Seriously though,” I add, “you look good. Different. Confident.”
“Different as in older?” she teases, lifting a brow.
"Different as in… I should probably send your parents an apology letter.” I pause and grin at her puzzled face."For thinking the things I’m thinking right now."
Her eyes narrow, amused. “You’re impossible.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t miss me just a little.”
“I barely saw you growing up. You were always off doing—whatever Carter boys do.”
“Mostly getting into trouble,” I admit. “Or trying to keep Grant from turning into a complete hermit. Which… clearly didn’t work.”
That earns me a smirk and a nod. “You’re not wrong.”
The waitress comes by, and we both glance at the menu. Ivy orders another drink, and I go for wings and a beer.
“Let me guess,” I say as the waitress walks off. “First night out in a while?”
