Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Yes, Chase,” I say, lifting a brow. “A grumpy cat.”
I grin, watching him try his best not to react to me. It’s a decent attempt. Too bad for him that I see right through it.
“Megan also said you were a total hottie,” Maggie says, nodding emphatically.
My cheeks burn from embarrassment. Guess she put it all together.
“Really, Maggie?” I ask.
“What?” she asks, her arms stretched out to her sides in a show of innocence. “You did say that, didn’t you?”
Chase crosses his arms across his chest. “Mother,” he says, his voice cool and calm. “Would you mind giving me a minute to get dressed?”
“Why are you standing in your skivvies anyway?” she asks.
He looks at her like he can’t believe they’re having this conversation. “Does it matter?”
“I guess not. We’ll be in the kitchen. Take your time, dear.”
I turn to leave the room when my gaze slams into Chase’s again. His eyes nearly burn holes into mine. They’re so intense—yet so absolutely unreadable—that I freeze.
The gold I saw in his icy greens last night reappear one fleck at a time. It brings a light to his face, a slight approachability, that I know how to work.
I smile sweetly. “Yes, Chase. Take your time, dear.”
His eyes narrow.
I wink. And then, with a fire in my stomach that I can barely contain, I walk out and shut the door behind me.
CHAPTER 5
Chase
What the hell is happening?
I run a hand down my face. The scruff I didn’t bother to shave last night is rough against my palm. I open my mouth and work my jaw around once, then twice to dispel some of the surprise … frustration … tension of the last few minutes.
How is she at my house?
Bits and pieces from my conversation with Megan—a name that I went to great lengths last night not to learn—come barreling back at me.
Her new job. Being in Peachwood Falls. Not being familiar with the area.
She probably had my address in her GPS instead of The Ridges.
I growl into the air.
Megan is so damn hot that it’s almost unreal. Blond hair. Bright blue eyes. A beauty mark off-center below her left eye. Her body is ridiculous, with curves that my fingers itch to skim.
Her laughter mixes with my mother’s voice outside the door, and I can’t help it. I smile—because that’s the shit that kept me up all night. That’s the shit I can’t shake.
Every time I think of her little smirk and playfulness when she’s teasing me, I can’t help but grin. She brushed off my scowl like she wasn’t concerned with my obvious irritation at stopping to help. Instead, she pestered me, joked around, and her boundless energy and never-ending mouth were somehow … cute.
She’s everything I don’t need to fuck around with. Period.
I toss my soiled clothes into the laundry hamper by the sink and then pull on the clean jeans and flannel I set out before I left for Gavin’s this morning.
She’s the nanny? She’s staying here for a month?
How did this go from one of Mom’s friends to a sexpot?
I button my shirt.
This isn’t what I signed up for. I didn’t agree with this. I have my hands overflowing with Kennedy’s teenage bullshit and work. There’s no bandwidth left to deal with—Megan’s and Mom’s voices grow louder—that every day for thirty damn days.
“This is never going to work,” I grumble. “There’s no reason to start it. I didn’t want a fucking nanny anyway. I’ll call in favors from Luke and Gavin. God knows they owe me anyway.”
Mom’s laughter rings through the closed door again.
“Maggie Mae Marshall, we’re going to talk about this,” I mutter.
I yank open the door with more force than necessary. I’m unsure if it’s to affirm that I’m taking a stand or to broadcast my irritation before entering the room. Both heads turn toward me as I step into the kitchen.
Megan leans back in her chair, an arm draped over the seat next to her. Casually confident. Her lips are pressed together like she’s waiting patiently for me to explode.
I want to explode all right. So that’s why you gotta go.
“Can someone clue me in as to what’s going on?” I ask, ripping my eyes away from her mouth.
“Megan is Kennedy’s new nanny,” Mom says, chirping like a damn songbird. “I had her come by this morning so we could have brunch and show her around before she meets Kennedy and moves in.”
Move in? Oh, hell no.
I hold out a hand. “Let’s …let’s back this whole thing up a minute, Mom.”
“What? Why?”
I sigh.
My explanation should come quickly and easily. I’m too attracted to have Megan in my house twenty-four hours a day for a month. She’ll hinder me a hell of a lot more than she’ll help.
But I can’t exactly say that.
“I didn’t realize you’d hired someone,” I lie. “I thought you were bringing people by so we could interview them.”