Page 9 of Worst Nanny Ever
“All right, you barrel of laughs, I’m going to go see if I can convince someone to give me a ride home. If not, I’ll have to find a goat to snuggle up with so I can sleep off this hard kombucha.”
He groans, and I can practically feel his judgment radiating over the phone.
I’m not gonna lie.
It’s energetically feeding me.
“Good night, Hannah,” he says.
“Good night, Travis. Don’t be a hero. Take a few Benadryl if you need them.”
“They’re for?—”
“I know what they’re for. I can read instructions. I just choose not to follow them.”
“Delighted you’ll be working for me,” he says, his voice all husky, and there it is again—that trace of humor that saves him from being intolerable. And then he’s gone.
I stare at myself in the mirror. “This is probably a terrible mistake.”
“Are you still talking to yourself in there?” asks a guy from behind the door. “I need to pee.”
“Oh, come on. Isn’t the whole point of being a man that you don’t have to wait?”
CHAPTER THREE
TRAVIS
A knock lands on the front door. I take a in a slow, deep breath and let it ease out. That’s got to be Rachel, right on time for her interview.
“If you scare this one off, no Hannah tonight,” I tell Ollie, feeling like a jackass for negotiating with my son like he’s a terrorist. But desperate times call for bribery. He wants Hannah to be his nanny, but I had to beg to get her to babysit tonight. This isn’t a job she’ll want permanently, and I need someone who’s actually a trained childcare professional. The nanny who raised me had a degree from Norland College, which my mother liked to tell her friends was the “gold standard.” Nanny Grace was kind of frosty and a stickler for rules, but there was no denying she knew her shit.
I managed to schedule three interviews for this weekend—one today, two tomorrow—with people who can start on Monday. I’m a bit concerned that anyone who’d be available to start within a couple of days won’t be the best and brightest, but hopefully one of the three will be responsible and have references who actually like them.
Rachel works at a daycare but said she’d “leave them in aheartbeat” for fifty an hour. Her attitude suggests a lack of loyalty, but at least she has childcare experience.
“Hannah’s the one who should be my nanny,” Ollie says sullenly. He’s standing by the couch, staring at the door with open hostility while he picks at the blanket splayed across the back of the sofa—a gift from my sister. “I’m going to ask her tonight.”
“You’re not the one who’d be hiring her,” I tell him, moving his hand. “That would be me.”
“Yes, we all know you’re the one with the power, Travis, and I’m your prisoner.”
“Oh, Ollie,” I groan. Is this what a seven-year-old is supposed to sound like? I realize he’s several grade levels more academically advanced than his classmates, but he’s still a kid. Half the time he sounds like a grumpy old man. I said as much to Rob, who laughed and told me the apple doesn’t fall far.
“Behave yourself,” I say one final time, then rake my hands through my hair before taking a step toward the door.
“Your birthmark’s showing.”
Pausing, I give him an incredulous look. “Really, man?”
“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he tells me, his face surprisingly earnest. “I just know you don’t like strangers seeing it.”
I nod stiffly, feeling a tightness in my throat, and adjust my hair. I head into the foyer and open the front door.
It takes me a solid five seconds to square the woman in front of me with the professional headshot Rachel Lynn has on LinkedIn.
She has long blonde hair like the woman in the photo, but everything else about her is different. Instead of wearing a sweater set and pearls, she has on full-on glamour makeup and a very short red summer dress with spiky heels.
“You must be Travis,” she says, her voice low and throaty. “I’m Rachel.”
