Page 9 of Nanny for Grumpy Grant
“But I’m not cold.”
“Still. Please.”
She sighs and obediently gets up, fox under her arm, and pads away.
Grant waits until she’s gone, then gestures to the couch. “Sit.”
I do, brushing my palms on my thighs. He takes the armchair, facing me like we’re at opposite ends of a negotiation table.
“You’re good with her,” he says flatly. “But playing with blocks is the easy part.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t under the impression this was a test.”
“Everything’s a test when it comes to her,” he says. “I’ve had three nannies quit in the last two months, and many more before that. One lasted a day. One cried in the pantry.”
I nod slowly. “And you think I’m next.”
“You’re back in town,” he says, ignoring the comment. “After what—six years?”
“Almost seven. I went to Portland right after high school.”
“And why’d you come back?”
My jaw tightens. “Personal reasons.”
“That ‘personal reason’ got anything to do with you losing your job?”
My hands curl around the mug in my lap. “I didn’t come here to be interrogated.”
“I didn’t invite you,” he shoots back. “Caleb did.”
I blink. “So you’re just doing him a favor?”
He leans back. “He begged. Said you were good. Said Emily might like you. I figured I’d at least see for myself.”
“Which you clearly did,” I say, standing. “So let me save you the trouble of making a decision.”
I set the mug down, carefully, like I might break it if I don’t.
“I don’t know what happened to make you so distrustful of everyone, but whatever it is—it’s not my fault. I came here to help. Because Caleb asked, yes, but also because I wanted to. Emily’s great. And you—” I stop myself, shake my head. “You don’t want help. You want someone to fail so you can be right about it.”
He doesn’t stop me as I walk to the door.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I say without looking back.
And then I leave.
I shutthe car door with more force than I need to and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The late September air slips in through the cracked window—cool, but not cold. Still, my hands are a little unsteady as I rest them on the steering wheel.
Not because of the weather.
Because ofhim.
I don’t start the engine. I just sit there in silence, staring at the empty road ahead like it’s going to tell me what to do next.
Why did I come here?
No—scratch that. I know why. Caleb asked me. And I said yes because Caleb's the kind of person you say yes to. Because he looked out for me after Ben left for Denver and I didn’t want to be alone in this town. Because I wanted to help. Because I felt... sorry.
