Page 8 of The Bossy One

On the other end of the line, Vanessa gave a long-suffering sigh. “We were going to dismiss you after the feedback from your last clients. But due to thehighlydetailed mandatory requirements of a new client, you are our only viable option.”

My heart sped up. I was getting one more chance.

“If you can get to the airport by 4 p.m. today, the job is yours. But it’s a trial basis only—”

“Yes!” I interrupted, scrambling to my feet. “Yes, I can be at the airport.”

“I’ll email you the relevant information,” Vanessa said.

“Thank you, thank you,” I said. “I won’t let you down.”

Vanessa’s silence was telling. “This is your last chance, Olivia. So for the love of God, just do what the client asks.”

She hung up before I could explain that I wasn’ttryingto be difficult. The clients just kept asking for dumb things.

This time will be different, I told myself, as I opened my suitcase and started tossing things in. This time I’d be lucky enough to get a good client, and a great kid, and everything would work out.

* * *

I was waiting in baggage check area, near the Delta sign, where I was supposed to meet my new boss: an uncle who would be taking care of his niece for two months in Ireland, and needed some extra help. But they weren’t here yet. I checked my watch, worried I’d gotten the time wrong.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” a man’s deep voice said behind me. Except he had an Irish accent, so it sounded more likefeckin’. A sexy accent that sounded alarmingly familiar.

“Uncle Declan! That’s a bad word,” a kid’s voice scolded.

I turned around, my stomach sinking. Sure enough, it was the rude stranger from the plane. He looked about as thrilled to see me as I was to see him.

He knows I just got fired, I realized, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.Why would he want to hire me?

The kid looked sweet, though. She had her hand in her uncle’s, and she was bouncing on her toes, looking nervously around at the airport.

Focus on the kid, I reminded myself. I might be bad at pleasing temperamental parents, but I was really, really good at taking care of children.

I gave the girl a big smile. “Are you Catie Byrne?”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“Because I’m your new nanny, Miss Olivia. It’s very nice to meet you.” I squatted down to her level and held out my hand for her to shake. She did.

“You’re left-handed like me,” she told me. “And from the same city as me. And we have the same favorite color.”

The eccentric questionnaire suddenly made a bit more sense. I snuck a glance up at Declan.

“Catie helped come up with the job requirements,” Declan confirmed. He still didn’t look happy to see me. Actually, that was an understatement. He looked as if we were in an apocalypse scenario where he and I were the last two humans on earth and he would rather do a U-turn and walk all the way to Asia than risk crossing paths with me again.

Still, he’d listened to his niece’s opinions on an important decision. So maybe he wasn’t so bad. I stood up, determined to feel optimistic.

Declan didn’t say much as we checked our luggage and he bought my plane ticket. Catie was shy at first, but with a few questions I managed to get her talking. In a half hour, we’d made it through security and were weaving our way through the airport to our gate.

Catie’s eyes lit up when we walked past a café with giant, frosting-covered cookies in the display case. “Can I have one of those?” she asked me.

Declan was checking his phone, barely listening. That didn’t bode well. All signs pointed to another parental figure who paid more attention to the urgent issue on their phone than the child in front of them. If possible, my opinion of Declan sank even lower.

I didn’tgetpeople like that. Here was this bright, curious kid, who clearly loved her uncle, and he couldn’t give her the time of day.

What a bastard.

“We have to check with your uncle,” I said, fighting the urge to glare at said uncle. “I don’t know what your healthy eating rules are yet, or if you have any allergies. Plus, it’s almost dinnertime.” Also pouring tons of sugar into a child right before a transatlantic flight seemed like a bad idea.

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