Page 53 of The Bossy One

Shit, I thought, realizing with panic that I’d drifted to the right-hand side of the road. I spun the wheel as the other driver slammed their brakes, but I over-corrected and I slid off the road, straight into a short rock wall.

I sat in the car, my heart hammering, as I began to realize how bad that accident could have been. If I hadn’t turned the car.

The other driver, an older man dressed in a sweater and cap, got out of the car and stormed toward me. I opened the door, numbly realizing we probably needed to exchange insurance information. Unfortunately, I had no idea what Declan’s insurance information was.

Oh God, I thought.I have to tell Declan.

“What the hell were you thinking?” the man demanded.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. I fumbled through an apologetic explanation. I must have seemed pretty pathetic, because the man’s expression shifted from anger to concern.

“American, are you? Got confused over which side of the road to be on, I’d wager. Well, I suppose there’s no real harm done,” he said gruffly. “Looks like you bashed up your car a bit.”

I felt like I was going to throw up. I’d ruined Declan’s horribly expensive luxury car.

“Miss, you seem rattled. Is there someone I can call to take you home?”

“No, I’m fine. I can call him myself. Thank you.” The man left, and I dug out my phone. Fingers shaking, I called Declan.

If he fired me this time, I’d actually deserve it.

“Olivia?” he answered. “What is it? It’s late.”

Just hearing his voice made me feel more anchored in my body, less dazed. Unfortunately, that also made the reality of the situation sink in. I felt my throat ache with unshed tears. I really didn’t want to leave Catie and Declan. Not yet. I wasn’t ready.

“I’ve been in an accident,” I made myself say. “It was all my fault. Your car’s banged up—”

“Where are you?” Declan demanded. “Are you okay?”

I looked down at myself. “I think so. Um…I’m on that road into town with the tree…” I squinted at the road sign up ahead at the corner, and read it out to Declan.

“I’ll be right there,” Declan said, his voice emotionless.

“I’m so sorry,” I said again, but the line had already gone dead.

I tried to get out of the car to inspect the damage, but I realized my legs were shaking, so I sat back down sidewise in the car and put my head between my knees. I stared at my feet planted in the roadside gravel and tried to breathe deeply.

I didn’t know if I stayed like that for ten minutes or twenty, but I’d finally started to calm down when I heard a familiar car screech to a halt, and Declan leapt out. He strode across the road and crouched down before me, one knee planted in the gravel. His hands traveled frantically over my arms, my neck, the sides of my face.

He didn’t look at the car at all.

“Your car is ruined,” I explained, in case he hadn’t heard that part over the phone.

“No signs of concussion,” he said, checking my pupils. “You can move everything? Toes and fingers?”

“Of course,” I said, confused. “It was a small accident. Your airbags didn’t even go off. But the side of your car—”

“Oh, thank Christ,” Declan said, and crushed me to him in a hug, one of his big hands cradling the back of my head.

It felt so good to be held, but I couldn’t figure out why he cared this much about me. I was just the nanny.

And then I remembered how his dad had died.

He’d be like this about anyone he knew who was in a car accident, I thought. Something about that realization gave me permission to lean into the hug, breathe his scent, and fully relax for the first time since I’d gone off the road. He wasn’t mad.

He kissed my forehead, and my stomach flipped.

“What happened?” he asked.

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