Page 48 of Worst Nanny Ever
“You can’t go into my room anymore,” he says. “We need to set that boundary.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Okay, boss man. Youdidleave the door open. I thought you wanted me to see you in that towel, and I can’t say I minded. You must work hard for those muscles. It would be a pity not to let people see them.”
“Hannah,” he groans. “You’re killing me.” He rakes his hands through his hair, looking like he means what he’s saying.
“I really did want to talk about Ollie’s school stuff,” I say.
He nods, and I launch into the whole s-word, sewer rat story. I finish by saying, “So we should probably do something about this situation before they get into some kind of kiddie cage match.”
“I know,” he says. “I’m bringing donuts to Ollie’s classroom on Friday morning. When I asked Mrs. Applebaum, she acted like I’d suggested bringing crack cocaine for them to share before morning circle.” He twists his mouth to the side. “I don’t think she likes any of us. She refers to you as ‘the young lady’ in a disapproving tone.”
“Wait. Her last name’s Applebaum?” I ask, laughing. “I’ve been calling her Mrs. Applebottom since she asked to speak to me last Tuesday. No wonder she hates us.”
The school has pickup and drop-off in the auditorium, but Ollie’s teacher has asked to talk to me a couple of times after some “unfortunate incidents.”
He laughs, and some of the tension seems to lift from his shoulders. “You know, she actually reminds me of the nanny I had growing up.”
“Oh, you poor thing.”
His lips tip into a smile. “Nanny Grace used to say ‘back in my day’ every five words. And whenever I talked back, she rapped my knuckles with a wood ruler. I don’t even know where she found it.”
“This is explaining a lot,” I joke.
“I guess so,” he says, his expression falling a bit. “But her nephew’s the one who taught me to play the drums, so I’ll give her a pass. I just wish Ollie had a teacher who valued his strengths more.”
“He has us,” I say tightly, wanting to push closer on the couch but knowing it’s not a good idea right now. “And donuts are a smart move,Mr. Thomas—” I bite back a grin as he shakes his head with mock dismay. “But I’m surprised you didn’t opt for something healthy like bran muffins.”
“You make me sound like a constipated old man.” He pauses. “Speaking of constipated old men, have you talked to Eugene? I keep forgetting to ask.”
“I did,” I say, beaming. “I’m meeting him for breakfast at the tea shop on Friday morning. He sounds like a complete psychopath, so I have high hopes for our meeting.”
“I have no doubt he’ll come away from it a changed man.”
We laugh and then lapse into a heavy silence.
It’s probably time to leave. I glitter-bombed my boss, then kissed him, then nearly walked in on him naked. That’s a solid day’s work for any nanny, but I don’t want to go. It feels like something precious will slip away from us when I leave.
“I’m sorry about the glitter bomb,” I finally say.
He actually laughs, the corners of his eyes creasing. “No you’re not. I saw the look on your face when it happened.”
“It was hilarious to watch, I’m not going to lie. But I’m sorry the room’s a mess, and that I’m terrible at cleaning it.”
“That’s okay.” He glances around the room, as if taking in a disaster area, then says, “Maybe you can make up for it by going shopping for Ollie with me. I still don’t have enough kids’ stuff around here.”
“You want to go shopping?” I ask,delighted.
“Yes, if I had the slightest idea of what to get, I would have already done it.”
“The Single Dad’s Handbookhasn’t been helpful?”
A wry expression twists his mouth. “Had a look around while I was in the shower, did you?”
I don’t want to admit I’d been in his room before, so I shrug and say, “People’s bedrooms say a lot about them.”
He shifts a little closer, cutting the distance between us by a few inches. “What does mine say about me?”
I grin at him. “That you need someone to remind you how to have fun.”
