Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(50)

Why am I so determined to tell Brooke off—at the same time I want to get her off?

I muss up my hair with my fingers and lean my head back. I'm definitely losing it. Maybe it's the climate? It's so goddamn moist up here that I feel like I'm sucking in saltwater with every inhale. I miss the desert and the dry warmth and the bright lights of the Strip.

I pull my phone from my pocket and check for messages from my friends. The owner of the shop I work at—a placed called Needle in My Eye Body Piercing—texted me a picture of some girl's clitoral hood piercing. I stare at it and then scroll down.

The ladies miss u dude. Come back soon!

I smile and pocket the phone, shoving away all of that weirdness from downstairs. I shake it off and take a deep breath, pausing to fix my hair in Brooke's bathroom before I go back down and find her sitting with Sadie on the couch.

Mmm.

Yikes.

I pause there with my hand on the newel post and fight back the urge to put the baby to bed and drag Brooke upstairs, screw her bareback into the mattress. Wouldn't it be cute to see her pregnant? To have a baby to play with the way I play with Sadie? One that was actually mine?

Um.

No, it wouldn't.

Whoa, Zay. Put the brakes on there. I'm twenty-nine years old, so I guess it's right about that time where I'd start thinking of making babies, but hell, what am I doing? I don't know Brooke. And I don't live here. And she already comes with two inherited kids of her own. Besides, she's twenty-two and trying to get her master's degree. If I'm going to fixate on someone like this, I should find somebody closer to my own age.

Deep breath.

I move into the room and pause, sitting down on the arm of the big couch.

“Want to go somewhere? We can pick up the kids while we're out?” Because if I don't get the f*ck out of here, I'm going to throw you over the back of this couch and screw the hell out of you. I smile, so Brooke can't see what I'm thinking about. “We could … go get some coffee at that place on the water, what's it called?”

“Um, the Waterfront?” Brooke says with a little sarcastic lilt. I grin at her and snap my fingers.

“Exactly. We can even get some fish and chips or something.” I grab my wallet from its place on the coffee table and flash the black leather at Brooke. “I'm whippin' out the credit card. My treat, okay?”

“What about the casserole?” she asks and I shrug.

“Fuck the casserole.” I bounce off the couch and into the kitchen, opening the oven and using a mitt to pull the glass out. Surprisingly, the damn thing actually smells good. “I'll hide it from Hubert and we can finish cooking it later.”

The glass is barely warm, so I cover it with foil and shove it in the fridge. I feel like I need to get out of here for a second, try to find some space to breathe.

“You game?” I ask as I come back around the corner and cross my arms over my chest. When Brooke looks up at me, I wiggle my brows and toss her a wink that I don't really feel. Fuck. I am so not myself right now. Want to know why I tattooed the words LIVE EASY onto my knuckles? Because that's how I like to do my thing, nice and easy and uncomplicated. Life's just more fun that way, you know?

All of this? This is complicated as hell.

“Sure. Why not. I'm not too proud to turn down free food.” Brooke hoists Sadie up in her arms and stands. When I see her lean in and kiss the baby on the pudgy cheek, I feel a little thrill shoot through me and know that I best keep the bio clock hormones on serious lockdown here.



The Waterfront Café is off the beaten path, across two bridges that span a marshy preserve that's full of brackish seawater, clumps of grass as tall as I am, and flocks of white herons.

“My dad used to tell me stories about these bridges,” I say to Brooke as we pass over the first one. “That when he was a kid, when they were first built, there were no rails on either side. Just an empty swath of road suspended over the water. One little swerve and bam. Done for.”

“They let people drive on it like that?” Brooke asks, like she doesn't believe me. I shrug my shoulders.

“Guess so.”

“Where does your dad live now?” Brooke asks and my smile gets real tight.

“My parents are both dead.” I don't elaborate because hell, I'm already having trouble with this chick. The last thing I need to do is start sharing personal details. I never do anyway, with the girls I f*ck. I like to keep things light and fluffy and fun. Nothin' fluffy and fun about dead parents.

Brooke doesn't say anything, turning her head to stare out the window as we hit a small patch of land between the two bridges. For a few minutes, there's nothing but the sound of pop music in the background.

“My dad has early onset Alzheimer's,” Brooke blurts, turning back to look at me. I keep my eyes on the road as I start over the second bridge, but I can feel her gaze like a laser beam through the side of my head. Boom. Explosion.

I suck in a breath.

“I don't know how I'm going to say good-bye to him. Did you get to say good-bye to your parents?”

“Um.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Brooke's got those doe eyes on again, big and watery and brown and sexy as hell. I want to cup her face in my hand and pull our mouths together. Ahh. I am, like, so seriously screwed it's not even funny. “I didn't actually. It sounds fake as hell, but they actually died in a boating accident when I was … twenty-two.” Same age as Brooke is now. “On Lake Tahoe.”