Page 20 of Knocking up his Nanny

CHAPTER 13

Just like in the elaborate lie I told my mom's chemo buddies, my date opens the car door for me. He drives a shiny white Tesla that looks freshly washed, sparkling even in the mild winter sunlight. The leather seats are comfy, elegant, and upscale, and I sink into them with ease.

“I never thanked you for your gift of dinner atThe Willow,”I say to him, once he enters the driver’s side of the car. “My mother loved it so much—it meant so much to us.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. I hope I can join you there one day,” he responds.

He looks so handsome and relaxed sitting in this sleek vehicle. The car seems like a perfect extension of who he is, and I feel quite thrilled to be introduced to more of his identity.

I mean, surely the car a man drives says a lot more about him than a name he didn't get to choose? A fully electric model shows that he cares about the environment, and he's not an idiot like me, wasting tons of money on gasoline. But something about sitting in the vehicle feels very solid and dependable—far more than my beat-up old car.

I guess it makes me feel likehecould also be really solid and dependable. Like when he says I'm going to see him again... and then I do.

What if that kept happening? What if he kept showing up every time he said he was going to be there... always? What if he never let me down or disappointed me? Music pops into my head again, without my permission.

Somewhere in my wicked, miserable past...

What if he’s one of the good ones, like my father and Rudy? What if great men really do exist who are somehow single, somehow straight, but just as noble and wonderful as all the heroes in stories and movies? What if he's the person I've always hoped for and dreamed of?

I must have done something good...

Okay, no. I try to shake away the silly thought. I'm getting way too ahead of myself here.

It's asecond date, for heaven's sake. I need to get that silly nonsense out of my head.Keep it casual, June. Casual. Stop getting so serious. Jeez! It's just a friggin' Tesla, not a white horse-drawn carriage leading you to a wedding chapel. Okay? Okay?

"How do you feel about Starbucks?" my mystery man asks, strumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

See? He's not thinking about wedding bells. He's thinking coffee. Get a grip.I clear my throat to bring me back to reality. "I love Starbucks. But I only have about two hours until chemo is over."

"Then we'll have to make every minute count," he says as he puts the car in gear and begins driving.

I look around the dashboard in confusion, wondering how he even started the vehicle. I didn't see him insert a key anywhere, or even push a button. I want to ask him questions about the car, but I'm too embarrassed to reveal that I've never been in a Tesla. I feel a bit like a country bumpkin.

Anyway, despite how elegant the car is, at least it's not as ostentatious as some of the models in my new employer's garage. This still feels like a normal ride that you can take grocery shopping. I peeked in the massive, temperature-controlled garage in the Wintergreen manor, and it just looked insane. More like a showroom of souvenirs than cars you would actually want to drive anywhere. Just a collection of mostly unused toys, I guess. I didn't really have time to go into the garage and properly explore yet—I'll try to do that later.

When we pass a gas station on the way to Starbucks, my sexy suitor smiles. “It’s been so long since I went to a gas station. When I see them now, it feels like I’m looking into the past. They seem so archaic.”

“That’s crazy,” I respond, feeling a bit intimidated by him. He knows so much more than me—he seems so wise and worldly. I feel like he’s centuries ahead of me, living in the future, while I’m back in time, stuck consuming fossil fuels instead of renewable energy. Depleting our planet’s resources and accelerating climate change while also going broke.

“I wish I could avoid going to a gas station ever again,” I tell him honestly. “The commuting back and forth between the hospital and Silver Mountain is taking a toll on my bank account.” I feel embarrassed once I reveal this information. I don’t want him to know how terribly poor I am. Or that I’m probably causing the apocalypse with my carelessness. “I guess my car must also be a gas-guzzler,” I say, trying to cover up my mistake. But then I feel even worse. “I mean, I wish I could afford a hybrid—I’ll try my best in the future.”

“It’s okay,” he says, reaching over to take my hand and squeezing it gently. “The electric thing is still new to me, too. I’m just amazed by how efficient it all is, and how intuitive this car is. Look at this,” he says, taking his other hand off the steering wheel. “It’s self-driving. How cool is that?”

“It’s pretty cool,” I say, smiling a bit wickedly and tracing circles on the back of his hand. “Imagine all the things you could do with your free hands.” He is still wearing that Rolex on his sexy wrist. And he still smells so good. Mmm. “And I guess, it wouldn’t be such a big deal if I were to, uh… distract you while you’re driving?”

He glances over at me in surprise. “What kind of distraction are we discussing? You can distract me any and every minute of the day, Juniper.”

I love the way he says my name. He’s lucky that we’re approaching the Starbucks drive-through or I might climb right over this center console right now and sit in his lap.

“What’s your drink?” he asks me.

The truthful answer would be that I’m too broke to afford the ridiculous prices at Starbucks, so I have no idea, but I’ll drink anything. I glance at the menu, and pick the first festive and fun beverage I see. “Maybe a Sugar Cookie Oat Latte,” I say. “Tall.”

“Okay,” he responds, telling the barista my order. Then he orders for himself. “Just a double espresso, black.”

“That’s very simple and straightforward,” I comment.

“No bells or whistles, just straight caffeine,” he responds. “I’m very busy with work these days, so I need all the energy I can get.”

He pays with his phone at the window, and reaches out to hand me my large drink. His cup is extremely tiny in comparison, and he takes it like a jello shot in a bar, removing the lid and tossing the entire thing back in one gulp. I am impressed.

“Wow,” I comment. “You devoured that.”

He glances over at me with a grin. “Nah. But I’d like to devour you.”

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