Playing the Player(25)

I felt a tiny smile playing at the corner of my lips. “So, you bring the fun, is that it? And I bring the crushing discipline and order?”

He laughed, deep and sexy, and my breath caught as I watched amusement chase the uncertainty from his expression.

“Not exactly.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes, and the urge to run my fingers through it hit me full force. If we actually were going to keep working together, I’d have to get this irrational hormonal reaction to him under control.

Was that what I wanted? Us to work together? To not get him fired? I glanced toward the kids, who’d moved on to pet a black Lab lounging at his owner’s feet.

The kids loved Slade. And he appeared to care about them. Even if he didn’t care about my schedules and plans, he cared about the kids.

I swallowed the last bite of my cone and wiped my sticky hands on a napkin. Of course I couldn’t fire him. He’d totally saved the day today. Apparently he had a knack for staying calm in a crisis. That could definitely come in handy.

“I was thinking more along the lines of us trying out an actual partnership,” he said. A cloud passed over the sun, shadowing his face. “As in, you plan a day, then I’ll plan a day.”

My stomach clenched. Let Slade plan a whole day of activities? I could just imagine what he’d come up with.

“Come on, Trina. Give me a chance to prove you wrong.” His voice was light and playful but his eyes locked onto mine, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if his words had more than one meaning.

Gilly and Max charged back into our personal space, killing the mood.

“Let’s go!” Gilly tugged on Slade’s arm and Max tugged on mine.

“Duty calls,” Slade said, pretending to let Gilly haul him to his feet.

We walked to Slade’s car, the kids running ahead of us down the sidewalk.

“So will you consider what I said? Think about it over the weekend?” Slade asked. He kicked at a rock, his feet juggling it down the sidewalk like a soccer ball.

“Sure.” I had a lot of things to think about over the weekend. After today, I wasn’t quite sure if up was up or down was down. I needed to reconsider everything, especially my own vision of how this summer was supposed to be.

“Cool,” he said, and for the briefest of moments, his hand brushed against mine, sending shivers up and down my spine.



Nanny Notes: Mutiny

CONS: Kids hate the binder. And my ideas. And me?

PROS: Slade knows how to calm everyone down. Surprisingly cool under pressure.

CONS: Not going to fire him after all.

PROS: Not going to fire him after all.





Chapter Eleven


Slade


Friday, June 7

“Up for more skinny-dipping tonight, big guy?” Text delivered 8:49 p.m.

“Slade? Did u get my text?” Text delivered 9:53 p.m.

“Sorry. Can’t make it.” Text sent 10:17 p.m.

“U get a better offer?” Text delivered 10:33 p.m.

“Slade? U there?” Text delivered 10:47 p.m.

I powered off my phone. It was easier rejecting someone via text. I felt kind of bad, but we’d both agreed this was a no-strings-attached deal. And now I was officially cutting the strings.

Besides, I was way too distracted by the day’s events to hook up with anyone. Except maybe… I shook my head to clear away the unbidden image of kissing Trina.

The same image that had taunted me all day long. When we’d been in the middle of our screaming match in the Gonzales’ family room. When I’d found her crying on the floor, surrounded by her shredded binder. When I’d watched her eat her ice cream cone. When I’d said good-bye to her at the end of our crazy day, which I hoped had ended in a truce.

Obviously, I was losing it.

She so wasn’t my type. At all. So what the hell was going on? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about her? Why did I feel this weird pull to be with her? Why did it bug me so much when I saw her crying?

I needed professional help. How convenient that I lived with two professional shrinks… Like I’d ever talk to them.

I opened my Facebook app on my phone. I had 723 friends, including Trina. I wondered when she’d friended me. Or had I friended her? I never turned down friend requests, but I was kind of surprised to see her in my list.

Clicking on her profile, I wasn’t exactly shocked to see that her relationship status was single. Still, I was surprised at the wave of relief that surged through me. I clicked on her page. Thirty-two friends.

Wow.

Should I feel sorry for her, or was she just picky? And how had I made it onto her selective list of friends? We had two mutual FB buddies: Desi and Alex. I saw that Trina and Desi had checked into the Alamo Theater around 7:30 p.m. “Girl power!” Desi had posted. “Movies and pedis.” Again, I felt strangely relieved to see that Trina was out for a girls’ night, not a date.

I clicked on Alex’s page. “Romantic dinner at the Melting Pot. Six-month anniversary!” And a lovey-dovey pic of him and Tim posing cheek-to-cheek at a candlelit table. I grimaced at his disgustingly romantic photo, but I clicked “like.” He was my best friend, after all, and I was happy for him, even though I didn’t agree with his whole fall-in-love-and-life-becomes-perfect philosophy.

It was still early enough I could find somewhere to go…and someone to go with…but after scrolling through all the drunken photos, I set my phone aside. I flipped over on my bed, and my gaze landed on the binder resting precariously on a stack of junk on the table.