Page 1 of Nanny for the Damaged Ex-SEAL

Prologue

Aria

Myphoneringsincessantlyon the soapstone kitchen counter. I tear open the little packet of seasoning powder with my teeth and pour it into the boiling pot of noodles. The phone stops ringing as I stir. But just as soon as it stops, it starts again. I sigh with frustration, lick off the seasoning powder that had gotten on my hand and dive for it. It’s my sister, Bria.

“I’ve been calling you for ages. Where’ve you been? I was starting to think you got kidnapped or something,” she hisses into the phone.

“You only called me once, Bria.”

“Which is more than enough. It rang for like fifteen minutes.”

I cackle and turn on the tap with my free hand. “How may I help you, Your Highness?”

“I need your purple cashmere scarf. It’d go perfectly with an outfit I just got. I tried to find one like it, but it’s hopeless.”

“Ugh, it’s not here. It’s at Jake’s. I’ll have to go over to his place to get it for you. Do you need it sometime soon?”

“Yes, it’s a fashion emergency. I’m wearing it tonight.”

I groan. “He’s out of town on a business trip and I don’t know where I put the spare key he gave me. I’ll have to look for it.”

“Please, do. My drip depends on your scarf tonight. I wish I could find the same one, but I can't.”

“I’ll get to it when I’m done eating. If I find the key, I’ll go get it and bring it over later.”

“Don’t let me down, Aria,” she says, and ends the call.

A few minutes later, I’m turning my house upside down, searching for a key I’m not even sure I have anymore. It’s been so long since I used it that I don’t even remember what it looks like.Did I put it in my jewelry box?I think to myself. I gather up my hair and twist it into a bun. I slide the glass jewelry box off the dresser and check. It isn’t there. I’ll just have to tell Bria I can’t find the key. I’ve never had any reason to use it. I’m only at Jake’s when he’s in town. But I know my sister; if she wants something, she has to have it. I set the box back in its place and reach for another one made of metal, open it, and there it is. I pull it out by the tag on the key ring. On it is written “Aria’s Key.” I smile and drop it into my pocket.

Soon, I’m in my car, driving down the busy streets of Long Beach. It’s a Saturday morning, and I should be at home resting, refueling for the week of work ahead, but I’m on a hunt for a scarf for my sister. As I pull into Jake’s driveway and kill the ignition, I’m reminded of how much I miss him. I want to get my phone out and text him to tell him I’m at his house, but I decide to hold off until I get the scarf. When I get to the door, I stick the key into the lock, but it doesn’t click.Oh, my God. Don’t tell me I came all the way here with the wrong key.But it’s the right key; I pull it out of the keyhole and stare at the keyholder. I stick it in again, and this time it gives a rusty click. I turn the knob and the door opens up. I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk down the blue-painted hallway. It smells like home. I can’t wait to move in as soon as we get married.Soon. Soon,I say to myself.

But then I hear water running. Did Jake leave his water on? The sound is coming from his bedroom, where I’m headed. I shake my head because he’s always like this, always forgetting stuff. But as I move to open the door to his room, I hear a giggle. I freeze. Then I hear another voice; it’s Jake’s. I push the bedroom door open to a clear view of his attached bathroom through its open door. He’s naked, upright in the bathtub, his firm butt to my face as he slides a soapy bath sponge over a woman’s body. I’m rigid, I can’t move. I feel like I’m dreaming. The woman’s eyes are closed as he caresses her breasts. Then she opens her eyes and lets out a scream. He looks back and stares at me as if he’s just seen a ghost, then hastily clambers out of the bath, almost tumbling to the floor.

Time stands still and everything else blurs as my eyes zero in on one thing only. He has an erection.

“Wha…what are you doing here?” he stammers.

I finally find my voice. “What am I doing here? This is my boyfriend’s house!”

“Boyfriend?” the girl in the bath asks, but I don’t answer her.

I dump the key in my hand on a table and run out of the room, but I stop and go back in for my scarf. It should be in his closet, but I find it on a chair as if someone had used it. I can’t believe it; not only is he cheating on me, but now she’s using my scarf? I shake my head at him and walk out of the door. He runs after me, naked, his now flaccid dick swinging from side to side. He tries to grab me and pull me back before I step out of the house, but I shove him off and walk out of the door.

He hides behind the door while peeking out. “Aria! Aria! It’s not what you think!” he yells.

Chapter 1

Aria

Theflowersinmyparents' garden are blooming. The dahlias are pink and spread out in small sections that come together to make a pattern. The tulips are a combination of red, pink and yellow, the hydrangeas blue, white, pink and green, the lavender a light shade of purple. A colorful haven. A burst of delight. What luck they have. They have everything laid out for them. They don't have to do much; they just sit pretty and their food comes to them.Which isn't the case with humans,I muse to myself. I watch as the light rain patters on them, feeding them. Nourishing them.

"I see you're admiring my flowers. I've done a good job of tending to them. The little rain has helped them too," Amy says from across the room.

Amy is my stepmom, my dad's second wife. They got married only five years ago. We've gotten really close since then. Everyone had urged Dad to marry again. It took him four years to get to it, but I'm glad to see them getting along so nicely.

I turn away from the rain-smudged window where I’m sitting on the windowsill to face Amy, who’s sitting on a green sofa in the middle of the living room knitting a sweater. Her forehead is furrowed, her brows pulled together as she squints to focus on the yarn in her hands.

"Yeah, it looks beautiful," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, which I judge to be between five and ten percent. Normally, I’d be yammering on about how beautiful the flowers are. I’d even go out to take a look, run my fingers over them, smell them and marvel at their growth, but not today.

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