Page 91 of Worst Nanny Ever
“No,” Liam says flatly. “Never gonnahappen.”
I curse inside my head. MartimeLaw69 is the same person who informed Alice’s online group where they could find me.
Did I really piss off Rachel enough that she’d wage some vendetta against me? I had a five-minute conversation with the woman. No one likes getting rejected, but this would be a pretty extreme reaction.
Liam grabs the cases I’m holding and nods toward the stage. “Can you grab the rest in one trip?”
I’ll have to.
I nod to him, then head up onto the stage and muscle up the remaining cases. Bixby is watching me with narrowed eyes, probably still pissed that I’m jumping the shark (dammit, again with the maritime metaphors).
Liam’s waiting for me with the other cases, and when I reach him at the side of the stage, he starts walking me to the lot.
Is it embarrassing to have a de facto bodyguard? Absolutely. I take pride in being able to take care of myself, but it’s obvious these women won’t stay away if I ask nicely. Unless I wanted them hanging off me like limpets, I’d have to shove my way out. That would be ruder than I’d like, and there’d be photos. The odds of this mess making some local paper would skyrocket.
I show him where I’m parked, and we get the kit packed up in my truck. Rob and Bix drove separately, so at least I don’t need to wait for them to leave.
Thankfully, no one has tried to approach the truck, but when I glance up, the group of sailor-dressed ladies is standing at the edge of the parking lot, surrounded by Alice’s hall monitors, all of them staring at us as if they’re stalkers in a horror movie.
“You okay?” Liam asks with a nod.
“Not really,” I admit, my gaze on the ladies as a few of them start waving and blowing kisses. “Did Hannah send you?”
She must have. It’s the only reasonable explanation for him showing up when he did.
He nods. “I didn’t get the full story. She talks really quickly when she’s worked up, but some woman named Alice texted her about what was happening.”
Toy Store Alice. I feel like I’ve been struck down with a sudden and possibly terminal case of chest congestion. Hannah’s pissed at me, deservedly, but she’s still taking care of me and my child. Of course she is. She likes to hide it, but she has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.
I’m a complete asshole. A waste of life. I feel like Ships Fucking Junior.
“You look pretty beat up about a few chicks in sailor dresses wanting you to sign their bras,” he observes, raising his eyebrows.
“It’s a long story.”
“Why don’t you come back to Big Catch with me, grab a drink before you go home? No offense, but you don’t look ready to face your kid.
He’s right. I’m not ready to face anyone.
“Yeah, okay,” I say. “Thanks.”
I get behind the wheel, take a few deep breaths—inhale, hold for three seconds, exhale—then I follow his beat-up red truck to Big Catch, almost in a trance.
He leads me into the brewery, nodding to the hostess, who has a name tag that reads:I’m Rae, ask me about my crocheting!The “I’m” and “ask me about” are printed, her name and hobby handwritten in. Liam says, “We’ll sit in the kayak booth.”
“Sure.” She pauses, scratches her nose. “You’re supposed to wear one of these name tags too. Eugene came in with them a few hours ago, and he was really adamant about it.”
“I work in the back,” he says flatly.
“Everyone onstaff.”
Liam groans but nods. “Fine, you have them?”
She grabs a sticker from under the hostess stand and hands it to him, along with a red Sharpie.
He writes inLiamandbeer.
“Uh, it’s supposed to be a hobby other than beer,” she says, offering him another label.
