Playing the Player(74)

I dropped the envelope onto the wicker porch chair, and then turned away and stumbled down the steps, tears blurring my vision as I ran down the driveway to my car. I drove to a park, where I sat in my car and cried until there were no more tears left, because I’d shed them all for Slade.





Trina’s Nanny Binder – ADDENDUM

Tips from a Super Nanny (with a few cautions from the Slacker Nanny*) 1. Go with the flow.

2. Never let them see you sweat.

3. Rules are made to be broken (as long as no one gets hurt*).

4. Live dangerously (within reason*).

5. Laughter makes the tears stop.

6. Ice cream fixes everything.

7. When all else fails: baseball games and show tunes.

Tips from a Slacker Nanny 1. You don’t know everything, even if you think you do.

2. Even when you’re sure you can’t do something, you probably can, with a little magic. And a lot of help from your partner.

3. Spontaneity isn’t bad. It might even be epic.

4. Trust your partner. And never, ever lie to him.





Chapter Forty-Eight


Trina


Sunday, July 28th

The pounding on the door was loud enough to wake everyone in our building. I was glad Mom was at work instead of trying to sleep.

“Open up.” Slade’s voice was muffled through the door. “Or I’ll just keep pounding until the cops come.”

Oh my God. Was he here to yell at me some more? I’d been home for over an hour, nursing my wounded pride. Cautiously, I cracked the door. He stuck a leg through the opening and barged in, holding a plastic bag.

“I brought ice cream,” he said. “And movies with show tunes.”

I stared at him, speechless. He closed the door and smirked at me. “Super Nanny tips six and seven.” He walked into the kitchen. My body followed him while my brain tried to figure out what was happening.

“No baseball game today, so we’ll have to skip that one.” He opened the cupboard and grabbed two bowls. He glanced over his shoulder. “Is your mom home?”

I shook my head and watched a sly, sexy smile spread across his face.

“This is the first time we’ve been alone in your apartment, without your mom.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Trust me, BB?”

Trust him? I swallowed and nodded.

“Good.” He dug the ice cream scooper out of a drawer and filled two bowls, then handed me one. “Cop a squat, BB. We need to talk.”

He plopped in the overstuffed chair; I sank slowly onto the couch. He took a bite of ice cream, watching me while he ate.

“What are you…doing here?” I finally managed.

His spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. “I already told you. Ice cream. Movies with show tunes.” He set his bowl on the coffee table. “Obviously I read your binder addendum.” His lips twitched. “And your letter. About a hundred times.” He waited, but I didn’t respond because my pulse was pounding in my ears, drowning out his words. “BB? Did you hear what I said?”

He pulled his wallet from his pocket and unfolded a piece of paper. I recognized my geeky stationery. Looking closer, I saw that the page was covered with clear tape.

“You tore it up? I thought you said you threw it away.”

“Technically, I did both.” He pinned with me the deadly topaz gaze. “You’re lucky I didn’t flush it down the toilet.”

A tiny laugh escaped my dry throat.

“Did you flush my letter down the toilet?”

I shook my head, keenly aware that his stare wasn’t cold like it had been at his house; instead it was full of warmth, sparking a tiny flame of hope inside me.

“Burn it?” A glint of amusement flickered in his eyes, taking my breath away. I shook my head again.

“Give it to the kids to shred?”

Unexpected laughter bubbled out of me. “No.”

“Good.” His lips curved into the sexy grin I thought I’d never see again. “Go get it.”

My body tensed. “What?”

“Go get my letter. And a pen. Please.”

He watched me as I left the room, eating his ice cream, spoon clinking against the bowl. I returned to the living room, his letter clutched in my clammy hand. He’d moved from the chair to the couch. I hesitated, but he patted the cushion next to him. I sat beside him, but was careful not to make skin contact.

“How’s it been flying solo with the kids?”

I hadn’t expected that question. For a brief moment, I considered lying and telling him that everything was fabulous. That the kids loved worksheets now. And documentaries.

But I was done with lies, especially to him. Even if we weren’t together anymore, the least I could do was be honest with him.

I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Awful. The kids are bored. I’m out of ideas.” I swallowed. “They miss you. A lot.” I took a deep breath and said, “So do I.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Slade. That’s what I wanted to tell you—that I was an idiot for ever taking that deal from your mom. You never needed mentoring.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “But I did.”

His eyes locked on mine as I spoke, then his lips curved slightly, and he spoke in a sexy British accent. “‘I don’t think you’re an idiot. I mean, there are elements of the ridiculous about you…but what I’m trying to say…is that…despite appearances, I like you. Very much. Just as you are.’”