Page 70 of Nanny for the Athletes

“I don’t mind working late!” Suzie suddenly spoke up. She was sticking her head out of the kennel, where she must have been eavesdropping. “Go out. Have some fun. I’ve got it covered here.”

“I guess I’m free,” I told Logan.

He pulled a ticket out of his pocket and handed it to me. “We play the Dallas Stars. You’re sitting at center ice. Front row.”

“I want to go to a game!” Claire squealed.

“Your aunt will take you another time,” he replied.

“Okay!” Claire went right back to scanning the ground for poop.

“It’ll be fun to see a game now that I know you.” Deep down, I felt vaguely disappointed. I had thought he was going to take me out on a date. Watching him play hockey would be fun, but it wasn’t really the same thing.

“You can take a photo in the front row and send it to that dumb cunt of an ex,” Logan explained.

I grinned. “You know what? That sounds amazing.”

“He’s a dumbwhat?”Claire asked.

Without missing a beat, Logan said, “Dumb mutt. Like a dog.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Gotta watch your mouth now that there’s a kid around.”

He clenched his jaw. “Don’t remind me. Braden will pick you up before the game.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Claire!” Logan called. “Time to go.”

“But I haven’t picked up any poop yet!”

“You can do that next time.”

She slumped her shoulders, but returned the equipment to the kennel. “Bye, Beth,” she said grumpily while leaving.

“Can I get a goodbye hug?” I asked.

“Hugs are only for family,” she said.

Logan grunted, and held my gaze a heartbeat longer. Then he nodded and got back in the car.

See you tomorrow.

“Seriously, I’m happy for the extra hours,” Suzie said when I returned to the kennel. “You can stay out as late as you want, as long as I’m getting paid.”

“How late is too late?” I asked.

Suzie shrugged. “I don’t know. One in the morning? Maybe two? I get to sleep in the day after tomorrow, so I can stay here late.”

I laughed. “I was thinking ten or eleven. I’m definitely too old to stay out until two.”

“You’re not that old, Ms. Foster.” She looked me up and down. “You’re like, thirty-three, right?”

“Twenty-eight,” I said a little too defensively.

“You should totally be staying out late! Have fun. Don’t worry about the kennel.”

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