Page 23 of Nanny for the Damaged Ex-SEAL

"I didn't."

"You didn't what?"

"I didn't say no. I told him yes. I start on Monday."

"Awesome! I've been worried sick."

"Worried sick about me or about Ethan?"

"About you. You won't let anyone help you. At least, now you'll be making money and able to do things again. We may not have said it, but we've all been worried. Dad, Amy, and me."

"Aww. Now you have something else to worry about."

She scrunches her mouth. "What?"

"It's a live-in job. You have to be worried about Connor and me killing each other."

She laughs out loud. "That's not going to happen.”

"Oh, wait and see."

Connor’s house is beautiful. That's the first thought in my head when we pull up. He came to pick me up at Dad’s. It was an awkward drive, and now that we’re here, I’m glad to be out of the car. The house is two stories tall. It has wide, white sash windows all the way around it. The railings both on the porch downstairs and the balcony upstairs are criss-crossed and painted white, too. They're crossed in a way that makes them form individual triangles.

Connor shuts the car door. Without saying a word, he heads into the house, and I follow behind. The living room downstairs is a mixture of brown and white—brown sofas and white walls—which is a bad choice for someone with a four-year-old child. But when I look around, there are no scribblings on the walls.What a well-behaved child,I think to myself. When Bria and I were little, we scrawled all over the house. It got to a point where Dad and Mom had to post Do Not Touch signs all over the house. But since we couldn't read the signs, we scribbled away.

The center table, TV stand, and kitchen counter are all white as well. There are two sliding doors, and one is open, letting a cool breeze in from the California sea and blowing the white silk curtains gently.

"Your room is upstairs. All the bedrooms are upstairs. Except for the guest room."

I nod and follow him upstairs. I’ve always thought Connor is attractive. You could absolutely hate someone's guts and still appreciate the fact that they're good-looking. And now that he's in front of me, I try my best not to stare at his butt. I do pretty well and commend myself when we get to the top of the stairs, reaching a hallway.

He points to a room. "This is Ethan's room." Then points to a room directly opposite it. "This is yours."

I want to ask which is his room. But I know I'll find out eventually, so I don't. He doesn't open the door for me like I thought he would. Instead, he turns around and starts to go downstairs.

Then he stops. “You don’t have to cook dinners. I have a food delivery service that comes weekly. We just warm it up."

"Oh, okay."

He turns and goes downstairs, and I open the door to my room. It's not small, but it's not too big either. A queen-size bed is in the middle of the room, against a wall. A mirror at the other end, on top of one of the most beautiful dressers I've ever seen. It has carved edges that look hand-crafted. It has three wide drawers. I lean my suitcase against the wall and walk toward it. There's a chair in front of it; I sit on it and lose my balance. Thankfully I'd not put my full weight on it. I look down, a leg is missing. I sigh. He couldn't even get my chair fixed? I pull on the brass handles of the first drawer, there's nothing in it. I pull the second, nothing. Then pull on the third. There's lingerie in it. A white lacy teddy. It must belong to the last nanny, I decide. I fold it back in and shut the drawer.

I walk toward the window and gaze into the neighbor’s yard for a moment. Then I get my suitcase and sit on the bed. It's softer than it looks. I don't start to bring out my clothes. Instead, I sit staring into space. I stare up to the high ceiling. It’s white, smooth, and I hope my stay here will be smooth too.

Connor has been civil so far. I hope it continues this way. We don’t need to be friends.

Being civil is good enough for me.

Chapter 8

Connor

Igodownstairsandget some lasagna out of the fridge. I cut out a portion, place it on a plate and put the plate in the microwave to warm up. I prefer to do it in the oven, but I don’t have much time left. I sit on one of the high kitchen stools while the microwave hums. I hear a sound from the stairs and look, but no one is there. I can't believe she's here in the house. Inmyhouse. This woman and I have never been on good terms, but now she's going to be taking care of my child. I can only hope she doesn't try to get back at me and harm my son. But she doesn't seem like someone who'd do something like that.

Seeing how she was with Ethan at the hospital was what prompted me to hire her. I always knew Ethan liked her, but I never really got to witness them interacting much. I was always there to cut it short. At the hospital, she was so soft with him, so nurturing. That's exactly the type of person I want for him, so I hope this works out.

The microwave beeps and stops. I get out the plate and get a fork to have a quick lunch. I should be at the gym in ten minutes. When I'm done, I go upstairs and knock on her door.

"Yes, come in," she says.

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