Page 44 of Worst Nanny Ever
“Oh.” Emotion flits across her face. I’d like to believe it’s guilt, but after everything she’s done, I doubt it. “Well…I’m sure Roland pissed someone else off. Of course he wants to blame me for it. Anyway. I also wanted to tell you that I’m going to be traveling through an area with some spotty reception. So you probably won’t hear from me for another couple of weeks. Maybe three.”
As if that would be any different from her usual calling schedule.
“Okay,” I say, ready to end the conversation. “I’ll tell Ollie.”
She smiles. “And I’m going to send some photos from this koala sanctuary I went to. He’ll love them. I got him a stuffie too, even though it takes up a lot of space in my bag.”
My rage spikes, and I want to tell her to go fuck herself or say something about koalas having chlamydia, so hey, they have something in common with her, because she gave it to me eight years ago…
Instead, I smile, squeezing the phone, and say tightly, “Great. Have a nice trip.”
Then I hang up and throw the phone so hard it bounces off the rug and slams into the wooden flooring beyond it, probably spiderwebbing the screen. I run my hands through my hair, dark emotion pounding through me.
A warm hand descends on my shoulder, squeezing, and I smell her. My animal side recognizes Hannah. The beast in me feels desperate to pin her to the wall and claim her. To sink my emotions into something that feels good.
“I’ve tried not to hate her,” I say in a low, thick voice. “But I fuckinghateher. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her, but I wish she’d never come back.”
“Go play for a few minutes,” she says softly, her hand massaging my shoulder. “Get some of it out.”
“I’ll wake him up if I do that.”
“If he wakes up, I’ll put him back to bed. Go play.”
I suck in a deep breath full of her scent and then let it out slowly, hissing like a punctured tire. “Thank you.”
Then I head into the music room, and I play, hitting harder than I should, letting all of my anger stream into music—not one of our Garbage Fire songs, but a long freestyle solo that says what I’m feeling. The anger. The shame. The feeling of being solost, I don’t even know what map I should be looking for. The deep well of need that’s a black hole inside of me.
When I finish, my hands hurt, and I look up to find her standing in the open doorway, her lips parted. I don’t know how long she’s been there.
I set my sticks down. “Hannah,” I say in a low voice. “I’m not trying to be a dick right now, but you should probably leave. I’m struggling tonight.”
She steps into the room. “I thought we were almost friends. Friends help each other.”
I rise from my chair and take a step back, feeling too big for the space suddenly. “Right now, I’m not interested in being your friend, or being professional. I want…” Damn. How do I say this without making it awkward? I guess there’s no way. “I want things I have no business wanting, and it would be better if you just left until I regain control over myself.”
“You want to fuck me?” She sounds almost surprised by it, which is a joke, because I assume most men want her, although I might be the only one who’s made a practice of counting her freckles.
“Can’t you tell?”
“I didn’t think I was your type,” she says, putting a hand on her hip. “I don’t look anything like Lilah.”
“Thank God.”
She smiles but adds, “Lilah’s gorgeous.”
“So are you,” I say, frustrated, not wanting to hear their names in the same sentence or even the same paragraph. “Look, Lilah’s the one who pursued me in the beginning, not the other way around. I got caught up in the current, but she wasn’t what I wanted. I’m working through some things right now, and I’m not in a position to date anyone. But, yeah, I’m attracted to you.Veryattracted. And it’s been…” I pull my hair, hoping the pain will give me the jolt I need. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone, so it’s getting harder to ignore it.”
She pads farther into the room, wearing that shirt that’s mine, her pupils dilated. Her curls sway as if they’re dancing. “So you’ve wondered what it would feel like between us?”
She says it as if it’s been a casual thing for me, no different from wondering about the weather, or what the specials are at a favorite restaurant.
“Yes,” I admit, my voice practically shaking. “But you should go. This is a line we can’t cross.”
But even as I’m telling her to go, I take a few steps toward her. I stop in front of her, wanting her to walk away. Also wanting her to reach for me.
“Probably not.” She tips up slightly on her toes, bringing her lips closer, more kissable. So tempting I feel myself leaning in just the slightest bit more, my body vetoing my brain.
“I’ve wondered too,” she says. “I love watching you play. You put your whole body into it. It’s…fascinating.”
