Page 70 of Worst Nanny Ever
Interesting…
I’ve suspected for a while now that he’s not as into the idea of going big with the band as Rob and Bixby are, and no wonder. He knows what it’s like to get cornered in toy stores by women who know what he looked like in a sailor suit. Sure, it’s probably the first time it’s happened to him for a while, but it’s obviously not his first run-in with fame.
“Just one more question. Does it bug you that Karen is still a superfan of the band?”
He shoots me a surprised glance. “What do you know about Karen?”
I shrug. “Just that you were in an on-again, off-again relationshipforever, and she still likes to watch you sweat under the bright lights.”
“I’d prefer it if she’d stop coming, but I’m not going to tell her what to do. I already feel like enough of a dick for leading her on.” He rubs his cheekbone, making her wonder if Karen had slapped him there. “She said I did, anyway. I didn’t mean to. I was honest.” He hesitates. “I still have a hard time imagining you with Jonah. He’s so full of it, and you have a good BS detector.”
“Will you think less of me if I admit that I knew he was full of shit, and I didn’t care?” I lift a hand. “Now, obviously I didn’t know he was engaged. He made a big deal about being single. But I wasn’t invested the way Sophie and Briar were. I didn’t really want to be invested in anyone. I was dealing with enough heavy stuff at the time with Liam. Besides, I’ve made a lot of bad decisions. Dated a lot of bad guys. Sometimes it’s easier when you go in knowing something’s not going to stick.”
He smile looks self-deprecating. “No, I don’t think less of you.”
And I can tell, without him saying so, that he basically felt the same way about his ex. He was lonely, but he didn’t want to be broken down by anyone else, after what happened with Lilah, so he found someone who couldn’t break him. I shouldn’t care, but I do, and frankly, I’m glad.
He pulls up outside of the tea shop, then turns toward me. “I’ll see you later.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help unloading the car?”
He gives me a lingering look before saying, “I don’t think itwould be a good idea for you to come back to the house with me right now. I don’t have the best handle on my self-control.”
His words shiver through me, because I can see the dark intent in his eyes. Now I’m imagining what he would do if Ididgo back there with him.
I’m thinking about those silky black sheets and wondering if we’d even make it to his room…
I remember the way his callused hands felt against me, pinning me to the wall, and the heat of his lips as they moved over mine, playing me like I was an instrument.
“I don’t want to…snap at you or anything,” he says, pulling me out of my fantasy.
But from the way his eyes are glued to me, I know that’s not what he’s worried about.
Desire jumpstarts my pulse, filling me with warmth and giving me a new awareness of my body and what it wants. What it hasn’t gotten in too long…
But I’ve made promises to myself, and I’m a woman who keeps my word.
I blow out a stiff breath. “Please. You don’t scare me.”
He smiles at me, then reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear. “That makes one of us, because you definitely scare me.”
I feel like I should make a joke, deflect, anything. But I can’t. Not at the moment, with my mind stuck on what-ifs.
He reaches into the back seat and pulls out the huge, fluffy dog he got for me. It’s ridiculous, and it makes my heart happy. “Don’t forget to bring Fido home with you. We’re playing with another rhythm guitarist today, but I’ll be home by eight thirty.”
I salute him and wrap my arms around the dog before getting out of the car. I stand there watching as his car pulls away and blends into traffic.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HANNAH
When I arrive at the school to pick Ollie up a couple of hours later, a tweed-wearing male teacher asks me to come inside because Mrs. Applebaum needs to speak to me.
My first thought is:holy shit, this matchmaking gig is going to be way easier than I thought.
Then again, there’s no way she knows about my connection to Eugene. So I’m guessing either Ollie did something objectionable or she’s still pissed about the imaginary mouse.
Tweed Teacher guides me through the halls of the school, looking half asleep from boredom. He looks middle-aged, and from the way he’s guiding me, tapping into muscle memory honed by years of walking the same hallways, he’s very familiar with this school.
