Page 98 of Worst Nanny Ever
“He’s a mess.”
I feel guilty for saying it, but right now it’s true. I don’t hold it against him. I’m a mess too. Always have been, always will be.
There’s beauty in messes, but if I know one thing about Travis, it’s that he won’t be a mess forever. He’ll figure out all the things that need figuring, and when he’s done, I’ll still be a mess.
“So?” she challenges.
“I told you I’m not getting involved with one of your boyfriend’s friends. It’s a terrible idea.”
She gives me a flat look. “My boyfriend’s my ex-fiancé’s brother. A lot of people thought that was a terrible idea too.”
“It was. You’re just lucky.”
“Seriously, Hannah?” Sophie used to believe wholeheartedly that she attracted bad luck, and she still looks incredulous at the thought of fortune smiling on her.
“Yeah, I said what I said. Youarelucky. You just took a while to realize it. Besides, you don’t work for Rob.”
“No,” she says. “But it’s not like this is some random job for you. You love Ollie. I can tell.”
“You’re right. Which is why Travis is right. We can’t risk our situation blowing up in some awful way just because we’re attracted to each other.”
She shakes her head slightly but says, “Sure, it’sdefinitely a risk. But I have to admit I’d like it if we were dating best friends.”
“It would definitely be an upgrade from dating the same person.”
We both laugh, and I expertly shift the conversation in a different direction, asking about her craft business.
Then a knock lands on the door, and I grin at her. “The Drunk Express!”
“The rest of them will be in the car,” she says with a smile.
“Party pooper.”
I follow her to the front door, which she opens to reveal Rob with his arm around Travis. Travis’s polo shirt, which was crisp earlier, looks kind of seedy now, like he’s a drug dealer who snuck into a polo match to sell weed behind the stables. His hair is all mussed, and there are hollows under his eyes, and I feel an awful urge to hustle him inside and take care of him. To smooth his hair down and help him pull on a clean shirt. To wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck.
Of course, the first thing he says to me is: “What are you doing here?”
He has an alarmed, hunted look on his face.
Ah, he must have asked Rob to make sure I left before he arrived. Smooth.
“Funny you should ask,” I say. “I work here. And you’ll be paying me overtime. You can leave him on his bed, Rob. I’ll get him some Tylenol and water, but there’s something I have to do first.”
“Hannah,” Rob starts. “That’s not?—”
I’m sure he’s about to say something regarding his plan to spend the night here with Travis, but I’ve already made my decision.
Sophie can fill them in.
I head over to the car in the driveway,laughing when I see my six-foot-six brother folded into the back seat. Dottie’s in the front passenger seat, looking bright-eyed and cheerful in her soft sweater dress and dove-gray overcoat. I know Liam did the gentlemanly thing, as he should.
I get into the driver’s seat so I can talk to them.
“Oh dear,” Dottie says. “I felt certain Rob was driving.”
I grin at her. “He was. I’m just visiting. I want to hear all about your drunken exploits.” I glance back and am disappointed to see that Eugene has all the hallmarks of being asleep against the window.
He has a name tag on his sweater vest that reads:I’m Eugene, ask me about my spreadsheets!
