Page 4 of Sew Matcha in Love
Tasha smirked.
Did I say dashing out loud?
Oh no.
“Wynna-bun,” he said, drawing out the nickname like it was some kind of inside joke. “Fancy seeing you here.”
I straightened in my chair, trying not to glare or be distracted by his smooth voice and trace of a British accent. “You knew I’d be here.”
“I’d heard,” he admitted, plopping into the chair next to me like we were old friends. “But I had doubts you’d show up.”
“She almost bolted,” Tasha tattled.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Zaki said, leaning back and stretching his arm over the back of my chair. I sat up straighter. “We’ve got important business to discuss.”
“You mean your Kristoff costume?” I said coolly, keeping my tone as professional as possible.
“Exactly.” He grinned. “The twins are obsessed withFrozen, and I can’t let them down. It’s a children’s con, Wynna-bun—this is serious stuff, and my girls want their dad to dress up.”
I opened my notebook, trying to ignore the warmth in my cheeks. “Okay. Let’s start with materials. Do you want?—”
“Daddy!”
He grinned, flashing too-perfect teeth for a hockey player, and turned toward the door. “Ah. My experts have arrived!”
His daughters ran in, clutching half-finished Straw-Berry Dreamy sodas in their mittened hands. Sofi waved cheerfully and ushered the twins to us.
The little girls squealed in unison, abandoning their sodas to their aunt’s fast hands to launch themselves at him.
“Daddy!” they cried again, each grabbing a leg.
“Hey, munchkins!” he said, standing and scooping them up effortlessly, one on each arm. They giggled as he spun them around before setting them down. Then his eyes landed on me, and that grin turned mischievous.
Monty sauntered over. He’d gotten the baby back from Xavier, and he hadtroublewritten all over his face. “Marshy.”
“Ridgie.”
I suppressed a laugh at their orchestrated stare-off.
Monty rolled his eyes at Zaki’s use of the mascot’s name, but it was good-natured. The two had been caught up in a prank war for most of the last year. In public, they kept up the icy rivalry as the team’s top pranksters. In private, they were friends. Tasha told me at their wedding last summer that he’d stopped responding to Monty’s pranks, so Monty kept escalating.
A sudden wave of dread hit me. I gotthat feelingsometimes, and my gut has never been wrong.
“Hey, Pen.” Monty turned toward his sister-in-law. “Doesn’t Marshy still need a nanny? Wynnie’s a pro with kids.”
There it was. My gut was right on.Again.
I shuddered.
Zaki’s eyes went wide, and he shot an uncertain glance at Sofi. “Yeah, so, uh, Sofi’s going back to school next week,” he said. “And the girls need a nanny.”
“You’d beperfect,” Tasha said quickly. “You’ve been a nanny, you speak French, and the girls already like you.”
“They don’t even know me,” I reminded her.
“They will!” Monty insisted cheerfully. “You’ve got all the qualifications.”
I looked over at Penny, who hadn’t said much and had even less to say now, as she was suddenly very interested in her mug of tea. “You knew about this?”
