Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(53)

“Just curious. Were you one of those goody-goodies that only kisses like, one guy during high school?” Brooke drops her gaze back to mine and narrows her eyes.

“I kissed Ingrid's boyfriend once. Well, more than kissed. We almost screwed, but then she came home and caught us. Maybe I owe her all of this to make up for that?”

I laugh and Brooke smiles again. I like the expression. I want her to keep talking just so I can see that right there, that press of her lips, the little dimples she gets in her cheeks.

“Look at you, you bad girl,” I say, giving her a goofy side smile. “Cheating with your sister's boyfriend. So much hotter than screwing the nanny.”

Brooke laughs again and wads up her napkin, tossing it at me as I chuckle.

“When you put it like that, it sounds creepy as hell. You're the old guy here you know. Seven years older. If anyone's the creeper, it should be you.”

I slap a hand to my chest.

“Hey, I was complimenting your choice to screw the nanny. And then you go and insult me? So not cool, Brooke Overland.”

She pokes me with her foot under the table and I give her a slow, lazy wink. I feel … I don't know what I feel right now, but it's not a normal feeling. It's … weird and warm and fuzzy. I think I'm getting … like, butterflies or something? Do dudes get butterflies? What the f*ck?

I sit up and feel my half-lidded contentment sliding away from my face. Brooke notices and gets stiff, sitting up suddenly in her seat.

“What's wrong?” she asks, a note of panic in her voice. Aww, man. Now I'm scaring the poor girl. It doesn't get anymore awkward than this.

“I just … I need a second.” I gently scoot Sadie away from the table and make a quick rush toward the men's room, barricading myself into the kitschy blue and white bathroom. A fake fish stares at me from the wall as I try to catch my breath, turning and looking at myself in the mirror. I look like the same guy, but I feel weird.

I think I'm getting my first real crush.

I curl my hands around the sides of the porcelain sink, the bright colors of my tattoos looking almost garish in the fluorescent lighting. When I glance up, my face looks downright friggin' morbid. Jesus, Zay, get a goddamn grip. I flick my lip piercing with my tongue and stare myself down.

I'm a twenty-nine year old body piercer/nanny who's currently obsessed with a girl that's all wrong for him, that likes angry music, that studies something he can't pronounce, with two inherited kids, that's way too young for him.

But that he really likes. That he wants to … like, claim or something? Pee on? Act like some wild buck on a nature documentary, start fighting off other dudes with his horns.

Fucking f*cknuts.

That's what it is.

Brooke Overland, I don't know the girl for shit, but … I've got a crush on her. A big one.

That's going to be a problem.





Zayden is definitely an … interesting person.

After he comes back from the bathroom, he acts normal, but I can see that something's bothering him. Makes me want to figure it out, try to unravel his mysteries. But … I don't have time for that. We eat our food and I notice he leaves the waitress a pretty generous tip. My dad once told me you can get a good idea of a person's character by how they treat waitstaff at a restaurant.

That makes me smile a little.

We start picking up the kids, pinging between schools until the whole brood's collected in the back and Kinzie and Bella are fighting over a Monster High doll. This particular one looks like a centaur, with a purple horse body and a ponytail high on top of her human head. I have no idea what the appeal is, but they're both screeching at the tops of their lungs over it.

“Yo,” Zayden says loudly as we pull into the driveway. He stops the car and turns around in his seat, giving the girls a look with raised brows. “Whose toy is it anyway?”

“It's mine,” Bella says as she yanks the doll away from Kinzie. The other girl lets out a bloodcurdling scream that chills me straight to my core. Suddenly, I feel a burst of panic in my chest. This is going to be my life? For the next … fourteen years? What if I stay here and put years of my life into raising these girls and then Ingrid shows back up? Worse: what if she comes and goes as she pleases, flitting in and out and making things even harder.

I feel sick all of a sudden.

I rip my seatbelt off and shove the door of the van open, practically tumbling out onto the pavement. I figure Zayden got to have his own personal freak-out at the restaurant, so it's my turn now. I move quickly away from the screaming and fighting and let myself in the back gate, kicking it closed behind me and then jogging my way over to the tire swing.

With a quick exhale, I flop onto the wet black rubber and grab hold of the chains, kicking off of the ground and then letting my head fall back, hair trailing behind me as the swing starts to sway.

Looking up, all I can see are the thick branches of the trees, heavy with green needles even in winter. I can hear the faint sound of the front door opening and closing and then … nothing. No kids, no club music, no lectures. Just quiet.

I breathe in and out slowly, letting the massive tire hold my weight as I lay back and let go of the chains. The swaying motion continues, the branch above me creaking and shedding droplets of dew.

I let myself get so zoned out that I don't hear Zayden's footsteps until he's right beside me, sitting down in the grass behind my head. I let myself drop a little further back, so I can stare at him upside down.