Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I narrow my eyes. “All right, what’s going on, you little stinkers? Is this another put-a-Zorro-mask-on-Dad moment?”
“No, but you need a costume,” Luna says.
“What? You don’t like my football player attire?” I gesture to my Renegades jersey and eye black. “It’s simple. Gets the job done.”
“It’s fine,” Luna says, too quickly. “But wait till you see Sabrina’s.”
And then—
The door to Sabrina’s place snicks open.
Footsteps sound on the stairs, and my pulse beats annoyingly fast in anticipation.
“And now…in the long program, presenting—Sabrina Snow!” Luna announces like a true commentator.
And that’s when, for the first time ever, I swear in front of my kids. “Holy shit.”
Parker gasps. “Dad.”
But I don’t even care, because—fuck.
She’s wearing a crystal-blue figure-skating costume, the exact shade of her eyes, with a patchwork of rhinestones that catch the light like prisms.
It’s one-shouldered—or is it a single-strap thing? Hell if I know the name of that style. All I know is that one shoulder is draped in soft blue fabric, while the other is bare except for a thin strap of delicate rhinestones.
It’s entirely appropriate. And incredibly sexy.
It shows off the strength in her arms, the grace in how she carries herself, and the bright, outgoing spirit that made her dress up to match my daughter.
She smiles, seeming completely unfazed by my stunned expression. “What do you think? I wore it in college.”
I think it’s going to fuel my figure skater crush for a long, long time.
I think I’m probably going to cave later and watch her videos.
“I think it’s stunning,” I blurt before I can stop myself.
Which—fuck.
I shouldn’t have said that. Not in front of the kids. Not about her.
Because stunning is not a word you use for your nanny.
I never said it about Agatha.
But the kids are too hyped up to notice my slip. They’re already rushing for the door, pumpkins made of recycled plastic clutched in their hands, riding that pure Halloween high.
Sabrina, though, is frozen in place. Like she wasn’t expecting my reaction. Then, a small smile coasts across her lips, like the compliment meant everything to her. “Thank you,” she says, but she clears her expression quickly as we make our way into the late October evening, the streets already filled with zombies and cowboys and Marvel heroes. “I know candy isn’t really your guilty pleasure, but if you spot a NutRageous bar, I call dibs.”
“That’s a rare and special candy bar,” I say, lifting a brow.
She sighs, a little wistful. “And it’s a Reese’s candy bar, so I don’t know why it’s not more common. But it’s incredible. I always wanted one on Halloween as a kid.”
I frown. “You didn’t have them?”
She laughs. “My dad never let me.”
And somehow, some way, I know I’m going to find a NutRageous bar for the figure skater I’m crushing on.
Even if I shouldn’t be.
19
SUPER NANNY
Sabrina
It’s better than I remembered.
The chocolate, the nuts, the peanut butter, the caramel—it’s chef’s kiss good.
I take another bite of the NutRageous bar that Tyler left on the kitchen counter for me this morning.
I don’t think he found it while trick-or-treating with the kids. No idea how he got it this fast. But it’s delicious. And it’s mine.
Just like the house is today.
The kids are at school, then heading to Elle’s tonight. Tyler has morning skate and a game this evening. By the time he comes home in the afternoon to rest before puck drop, I’ll be teaching.
It’s good—this structure, this routine. It’s kept me from thinking too much about last week.
The week where I took a misstep—hard.
If I were making a list of what not to do, right at the top, I’d write: Don’t grind against your boss. Don’t tell him how much you want him.
But I’ve been Super Nanny since then.
I want him to know I can do what he needs—pretend it didn’t happen. So I’ve been excellent at pretending.
Perfect, really.
Isn’t that what all my training was really about? Being perfect. Nailing something. Achieving excellence.
I set the half-eaten NutRageous bar on the counter. I’ll finish it later.
For now, I grab the laundry basket I brought upstairs earlier and haul it to the next level, where I toss my clothes into the washing machine.
And that’s when I hesitate.
Just for a second.
I could check out his room. Just a quick glance. What would that hurt?
But what if he has a camera in there? And wouldn’t I deserve to get fired for sneaking around his bedroom like a curious cat?
I keep walking away.
Except...when I pass his room, I linger.
Just a little.
His bed is muted green, the pillows a dark gray. The nightstand has a couple of books and a phone holder.
I inhale sharply and force myself to walk away.
Back downstairs.
Back to reality.
I settle in at my laptop, editing some of the videos I shot last week. Then, I post one of my morning routines—a long session where I skated like my soul was on fire.