Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(83)

And I've never been good at repairing fractures in my heart.

“Stop it, Brooke,” I say as I slap my hands against my cheeks and shake myself out. This is ridiculous, sitting up here and fretting over a guy I've known for like, two weeks. So stupid.

I focus on picking out clothes for tonight, dropping the stack on the bed and heading into the bathroom to do my hair and makeup. Even though I leave my bedroom door unlocked, Zayden doesn't come up to see me like I secretly hoped he would.

I end up downstairs in my trench coat an hour early to find the kids wrapped around the table, elbows leaning against the wood as they watch Zayden play with one of those tornado-in-a-bottle things, with the two plastic soda liter bottles taped together. I vaguely remember making one in fifth grade, and it puts a smile on my face.

“Told ya I was a storm magician,” Zayden says proudly as he stands up and lets the water swirl from one bottle into the other, a big grin stretched across his mouth as Kinzie narrows her eyes on him and then grudgingly leans in to watch the spectacle.

I smile and let myself slip out the front door before anyone can see me. I've had about enough questions about my “fancy waitressing job”, thank you.

“Hey.”

I pause with my hand on the car door, a little thrill licking down my spine as I listen to Zay's boots move up behind me. He gets close—too close, but what's new about that—and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“You sure you're alright? I wouldn't want you to go to work feeling … I don't know, however it is that you feel.” I glance back at him and damn, but he's pretty. I suck in a breath and pretend like his looks have no effect on me, like the love and care he puts into these kids has no effect.

“How I feel?” I ask, not entirely sure if even I'm aware of the answer to that question. “Maybe it's not me that has a problem, Zay? Maybe you're the one that needs to check into his feelings. You date girls you don't like, and you tell girls you do like that relationships don't make any sense. I mean, unless you're lying about the whole liking me part of that equation, then I think it's you that has the problem.”

I open the car door before he can respond, listening to the long huff of breath he lets out as I get in and slam it behind me. Starting the engine up as Zay stands there and watches. He doesn't try to stop me though which kind of pisses me off. Guess that white knight meter isn't as loud as he thought it was? Because I sort of feel like I'm drowning here.

“Stupid,” I mutter under my breath as I start up some Nine Inch Nails and crank the volume.

At least the drive to the strip club is nice, rain drenched and shadowed by trees for the first half, fields where cows come out to graze in the mornings for the second half.

I head south past the community college and take in a deep breath as the round building comes into view, one entire wall of tinted windows facing the highway. On the roof, a cheesy fake top hat sits tilted to one side. Even though I'm early, the parking lot is already mostly full and I frown, feeling a tug and pull at my insides that makes me queasy.

Suck it up, Brooke, I tell myself as I pull into my usual spot near the top of the short windy driveway that leads to the cement lot. Get yourself together.

Since I have about an hour to kill, I tilt my chair back and close my eyes, letting the car rumble beneath me and the music play. There is no way in hell that I'm going in there early. Nope. Not a snowball's chance in hell.

After a couple songs from NIN, I switch over to old school Metallica and sit up, checking my phone for messages. There are a few new ones from my friends in Berkeley and a brief Facebook message from my mom with a few pictures of her and dad at the Edinburgh zoo.

I smile briefly as I respond, using a few of the ridiculous selfies Zayden took with my phone to show him off to my girlfriends. Even with the photos, they'll probably never believe that I finally took the plunge and did it with some random stranger from the park. It seemed like a bad idea from the start … seems like an even worse idea now.

I snort and shove my phone in my purse, climbing out onto the wet pavement in my heels and heading towards the back door. Inside, a few of the girls are changing costumes and they smile at me as I walk in, the gossip pausing for a brief few seconds before they readjust to my presence.

“He told me I had to get rid of the dog,” Tiffany complains as she sweeps blond hair over one shoulder and fixes the booby tassels she's wearing. Yep. That's my world now. When I went to UCB, I was a part of the work-study program and got to work in the campus bookstore. Up here, there were no work-study positions available, so … it is what it is. And anyway, there's no way I could've paid rent and supported the girls on that kind of part time work anyway.

“Why?” one of the other women asks, her long dark hair in tiny braids, eyes watching me as I move over to the single bench in the center of the room. There are lockers on either side and a set of small steps leading up to the club. One of the big burly bouncer dudes stands right outside the curtain, arms crossed over his front like he works for the secret service or something.

“Because,” Tiffany starts, standing up and adjusting the little black tutu she's wearing. “He knows I love that damn dog more than I love him.”

Robyn laughs her ass off as I slip my trench down my shoulders and hang it up in one of the rusting teal lockers. The place is clean, but it could definitely use some repairs. Guess as long as it's raking in money, the owner doesn't much care.