Page 1 of Reputation (Tempt)

CHAPTERONE

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I stared down at my phone, reading the email a second time.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Dear Ms. Thorne,

We need to discuss your social media accounts, especially regarding your latest posts. As Brooklyn’s nanny, you must realize that your online presence has an impact on my reputation as well. Please confirm receipt of this email and affirm that you will post more appropriate content in the future.

Best,

Nate Crawford

“More appropriate content.”I bit out the words.

I’d dealt with my fair share of entitled and eccentric celebrities and pain-in-the-ass parents, but none of them compared to Nate Crawford. He was unbelievable.

I sighed and turned my phone on silent before returning it to my bag along with my foam roller. I’d been putting up with Nate’s bullshit for months, and I was over it.

I didn’t care that he was my boss or a billionaire. I didn’t even care that he’d been my celebrity crush once upon a time or that his eleven-year-old daughter was quite possibly my favorite human ever. He’d gone too far this time. He’d pushed me too hard for too long, and I was done.

More appropriate content.

What exactly had bothered him about my content? Was it the fact that I was wearing a bikini in some of my photos, or was he objecting to my hurdle challenges and technique demonstrations? I mean, really. It wasn’t as if I was posting naked photos of myself or hateful speech or anything but encouragement and empowerment.

“Hey, Em,” Dad said, setting his bag down on the bench. “I noticed you didn’t log your calories for breakfast. Everything okay?”

“It’s fine.” I ignored the tension building behind my temples and smothered my feelings about Nate—for now.

If I told my dad, he’d only reiterateyet againhis disapproval of my nannying job. Of my boss. He didn’t like how Nate treated me. But more than that, he didn’t like anything that distracted from my training.

It was pointless to argue otherwise, even if the job was great. Brooklyn was a delight; the house was incredible. The gym especially was fucking amazing—it had a sauna, a yoga room with walls covered in live plants, a cold plunge tub, and all the equipment a heptathlete like me could ever need.

There was just one problem: Nate.

A man who was both insanely attractive and intensely irritating.

It was as if my body had yet to get the signal that we didn’t like him. It didn’t matter that Nate seemed intent on making my life miserable. That he was off-limits. I’d been watching the man act for years, and while I knew he wasn’t the same person as the characters he portrayed on-screen, in a way, I felt like I’d known him longer than I had.

I’d catch glimpses of Tate fromHome Along the Bayor Ryder fromPrairie Canyon—brave, heroic, kind, men. But most of the time, as my boss, Nate was guarded, aloof. I got the feeling it was just another façade. Another role to play. I felt as if I only saw the real Nate when he was interacting with his daughter.

I stood and dusted off my hands. The only thing stopping me from ripping Nate a new one right this second was the fact that he was out of town. And despite his insistence on communicating via email—rule number one—this was a conversation we were going to have face-to-face.

Fuck the rules.

Hell, the moment I’d seen Nate’s “house rules,” I should’ve known he’d be a pain in the ass. Most parents I’d worked for had some guidelines regarding expectations for living in their houses or caring for their kids. That wasn’t unusual.

But Nate’s rules…well, they’d certainly taken the cake.

Rule Number One: I was to communicate with Nate solely via email, despite the fact that I waslivingin his house.

Rule Number Two: Nate’s bedroom was off-limits.Okay. Fine.

Rule Number Three: When I was off, I was expected to stay out of sight.

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