Page 13 of Worst Nanny Ever
“They call people who tattle to teachers snitches,” Ollie says with a sigh.
“In second grade?” I ask in disbelief.
Damn. Our middle school students at The Missing Beat are like that, but I was expecting kids this young to be kinder, or maybe hoping they would be.
“I can get my brother Liam to walk into class with you a couple of times,” Hannah says. “He’s an amateur boxer, and I bet that little assh—jerk…”
“You already said the bad part of the word,” I mutter.
Ignoring me, she continues, “He won’t know what hit him.”
“What about me?” I ask. “Why don’t I just walk him in?”
Technically, I’m not supposed to. I drop him off in the auditorium, and the kids walk to class from there, but I have every intention of talking my way into it.
She gives me a weighing look, head to toe, her eyes blazing fire through me as she studies me and finds me inadequate.
“I mean, you’re tall and strong, sure,” she says. “And I’d be pretty intimidated if I were a twerpy little second grader who makes up lies, but Liam takes it to a whole different level.”
“Do you think he’d do it?” Ollie asks, buzzing with excitement at the thought of some other guy defending him.
Shit, I feel like I’m failing again.
“Of course he would,” Hannah says. “He’s desperate to get on my good side.” Her gaze falls on me, though. Lingers. And I feel her eyes shoveling past my barriers. Seeing what I wish she wouldn’t.
Turning back to Ollie, she says, “But, you know, your dad probably has a supercool plan for humbling this kid. You should give him a shot first. Travis can be very crafty when he wants to be.”
I’m grateful. I’m annoyed. I’m a little turned on by her, which is ridiculous. She’s been here for all of five minutes, and she’s already causing trouble.
And yet, Ollie is talking more than he has in weeks, and she just gave me an opening—and is now giving me the most obviousdon’t mess it upeyes I’ve ever seen.
“I’d like that, Ollie,” I say. “Are you okay with letting me handle it?”
I expect him to say no. Or to point out that I haven’t handled any other aspect of parenting well, so why should this be any different? But he nods. “Okay. But shouldn’t you leave, Travis? It’s seven o’clock. Uncle Rob’s probably waiting for you.”
“His bedtime routine starts at eight o’clock,” I say, brushing my hair back, then promptly forward again when I remember Hannah’s here. “I left a few pages of instructions in the kitchen.”
“A few pages about how to get a kid to bed?” she asks, her eyes dancing. “I think Ollie and I can manage.” She thrusts a plastic bag with a goat printed on the side at me. “Will you give this to my brother?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Now, go bang it out. We’ll be waiting for you.”
This woman’s going to kill me.
CHAPTER FOUR
HANNAH
“I think there’s something weird about Travis’s father,” Ollie says.
It’s getting late, and we’re in his bedroom. He’s been reading a painfully boring book about earth science in bed while I sit beside him, being companionable and texting Sophie and Briar about the band’s performance.
“Oh?” I say, glancing up from my phone.
“Yeah.” Ollie sets the book down as he warms to the subject. “He was really old when Travis was born, and he’s been dead forever. I think he must have been famous or something, because this woman came here earlier to interview to be my nanny, and she acted like she was going to kiss Travis. You know…adult-kiss him. And Travis asked if she knew who his father was. So he must have been someone important, right?”
“Huh, did you ask him?” I say, setting the phone aside and trying to remind myself that I should not get gossip from a child. Definitely not.
