6. Valerie

6

VALERIE

This is a bad idea.

A really, really bad idea.

That thought has been swirling in my mind ever since I said I’d meet Carter Jones’s kids before deciding if I’d agree to be their nanny.

Why did I let myself act like it wouldn’t be a big deal to work for him after what’s happened between us?

I think it was self-preservation.

I didn’t want to give the hot football player the impression that our night together meant more to me than it did to him.

I’d woken up in the early morning light, taken one good look at the man with the god-like physique sleeping next to me, and immediately slid out of bed and slipped my clothes back on before sneaking out. I assumed someone who looked like Carter wouldn’t be a stranger to one-night stands, and I didn’t want to hang around and risk coming off as clingy.

Now, as I drive down a two-lane road my GPS directed me to, I’m second-guessing everything.

“Wait. Wait. Wait.” Morgan’s voice travels through my speakers. “You’re on the way to CJ’s house right now?”

I’d tried to rely on my own council during the drive out to Rosehill, a town located on the outskirts of Dallas—the town my internet search on Carter Jones late last night indicated he grew up in. But about thirty minutes into the drive, I knew I needed an outside perspective for what I was about to do. So, I called the only person I trusted besides my dad.

“It’s Carter,” I correct my best friend. “And yes.” I look at the GPS screen. “I’m about ten minutes away.”

“Jesus, Valerie! Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I thought I could handle it.”

“Handle working for the guy who you said was, and I quote, ‘the sexiest guy you’ve ever met in your life’.”

I wince. “Yeah…”

“Valerie, come on. What is going on with you? First, you quit your job, and now this?”

“I’m doing my dad a favor.”

“How is this a favor for your dad?”

I explain the conversation I had with my dad when he returned to the condo last night.

Over dinner, he’d let it slip that Carter was on the cusp of being benched for the start of the season. Dad’s boss, the head coach, had spoken with the team’s owner about it, and both were in agreement that something needed to be done to force Carter to focus on the team and do more than simply honor the terms of his contract. It wasn’t enough to show up to practice. The linebacker needed to work hard to be his best. Which, according to Dad, hadn’t been happening since the end of last season when his kids’ mom decided to leave them on his doorstep with no details about when she’d return.

I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to be a parent, but it’s difficult to believe a mom could leave her kids without a plan of when she’d see them again. Even my mom, as distant and aloof as she can be, never did anything like that.

But if that’s what happened to Carter—if he’s struggling to handle becoming a full-time dad while also meeting his work responsibilities, I feel bad for him. From what Dad said, Carter used to be one of the most focused and hardworking players he’d ever coached. He was a role model to many.

And I know what it’s like to give your all to your job, leaving little to no room for anything else in your life. But caring for his kids isn’t optional. He has to do it.

Honestly, the owner and head coach seem like jerks for not considering Carter’s situation when talking about benching him. But they are in the business of winning games. There’s only so much they can let slide when the success of their season is on the line, I guess.

“So, this is also a favor for Carter…” Megan’s voice trails off after I finish my explanation. Her words drip with meaning. “He needs a nanny, and since he gave you the best sex of your life, you want to help him out? Got it. That totally makes sense.”

I roll my eyes at her ridiculous statement. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” she counters, then laughs to herself. “I still can’t believe your vacation fling turned out to be the Carter Jones. I knew he looked familiar when we met.”

I thought so too.

I don’t follow football closely, but Carter is in enough local commercials and advertisements that I should’ve recognized him. Except for the fact his hair is short now when it used to be shaggy and long.

“Does your dad know about you two?”

“God, no. And I plan to keep it that way.” He and I are close, but there are some things a girl doesn’t tell her dad.

Like how she slept with a total stranger at an all-inclusive resort…

“So, what’s the plan here? Are you really going to try and get along with his kids to get the job? Or are you just going through the motions so you can tell your dad you tried?”

I bite my lip. “I’m not sure.”

Dad had been right when he pointed out I don’t do well with free time. Working as a nanny could be fun. It would give me a sense of purpose while I figure out what’s next for my accounting career.

As Carter’s nanny, I’d be taking care of his kids when he’s not around. Our interactions would be minimal. The fact I know the feel of every rippling muscle on his torso wouldn’t affect my ability to do the job. At least… I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t.

“Well, whatever you decide, just make sure you’re careful,” Morgan replies with a serious tone.

“Careful about what?” My GPS instructs me to turn right onto a one-lane, gravel road. Trees block the view up ahead, but I guess I’m getting close to the house.

“Be careful that you don’t go and fall in love with a quarterback… again.”

I scowl even though she can’t see it. “Carter isn’t the quarterback.”

The wheels kick up gravel, making it harder to hear my best friend’s reply.

“What was that?” I ask over the noise.

In a near-shout, Megan says, “I said, you know what I’m saying.”

Unfortunately, I do.

My first and only serious relationship happened when I was a teenager. I thought I was in love with the star quarterback at my high school. Dad was one of his coaches, and I didn’t learn until we’d already been dating for a year that he was only with me because he thought it would help him get in good with my dad and get him more playing time.

“I won’t fall in love with him,” I say with confidence. If my past wasn’t already a warning against that sort of thing, the fact my life is in disarray is enough to shut down thoughts of any potential romantic relationship with anyone, let alone a man I might be working for.

“Good,” Megan continues to speak loudly to be heard over the rocks bouncing off the car’s undercarriage. “Well, whenever you need to talk, you know I’m here. You haven’t even been gone forty-eight hours and I already miss you like crazy.”

My heart squeezes. “I miss you, too. I’ll plan a time to visit soon.” The gravel is replaced with pavement as I come to an open gate with numbers embossed in the stone pillar. The quiet is almost deafening. A glance at the GPS confirms it’s the address Carter texted me last night.

“You better.”

“I will.” I guide the car through the gate and begin moving up the long driveway. “I have to let you go. I think I’m here.”

“Oh. Exciting. Good luck. Can’t wait to hear all about your ‘interview’.”

I ignore her insinuating tone. “Thanks. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Val.”

The call ends and I focus on driving through the narrow road flanked by massive oak trees on either side. I’ve been to Dallas several times over the years, but I’ve never traveled this far out of city limits. I never had a reason to. Now, as I take in the natural beauty, I realize I’ve missed out. The wild beauty is breathtaking, and a welcome contrast to the concrete jungle I’ve lived in most of my life.

The trees fall away and I drive up to a house that’s much more modest than I was expecting for a professional athlete. Through my internet sleuthing, I learned the basics about Carter’s compensation. Other than being located on a couple of acres of land, the two-story brick home looks like something a solid middle-class family would live in, not a multi-millionaire.

Shoving aside my musings about Carter’s lifestyle choices, I park and turn off the engine. I toss my keys and cell phone into my crossbody purse before stepping out of the car.

Immediately, I’m taken aback by the silence that greets me. Other than the wind rustling the leaves on the trees and the occasional chirping bird, I don’t hear a sound. It’s so different from Houston.

That is until a child’s screech pierces the peaceful atmosphere.

“Give me back my book, Andy!”

I look up and see an open window on the second floor. The curtain sways out with the breeze, and I hear a little boy shout in reply, “I told you, I don’t have your book!”

“You’re lying! Dad! Andy stole my science book!”

A smile plays on my lips as I listen to the sibling squabble. Some might find it annoying, but as someone who grew up an only child, it’s a novelty to me. For now, anyway. I might be singing a different tune after mediating their disagreements for a few weeks.

Talking like you’ve already got the job, huh, Val?

I shake my head and walk to the double front door. I lift my hand to knock, but the door on the right swings open before my knuckles touch wood.

It takes conscious effort not to let my jaw drop as I take in the sight of the tall, broad man before me.

I thought post-workout Carter was sexy. The way his veins and muscles stood out under his tan skin, glistening from sweat, had made my core clench with desire that I’d never experienced before our spontaneous night together at the resort. But that version of the devastatingly handsome man is nothing compared to the man standing in front of me wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Black-rimmed glasses sitting on his nose.

“You wear glasses?” Are the first words out of my mouth. A man as sexy as Carter shouldn’t be allowed to flaunt the bookish, intellectual look. It’s my kryptonite.

His lips quirk with amusement. “Good morning to you, too. And yes… I wear glasses.”

“Sorry.” I release a tiny cough. “Good morning.”

“No worries. Come on in.” He steps back.

I walk inside and kick off my shoes, lining them up by the door where I see over six pairs of shoes, five of which were made to fit little feet.

Carter shuts the door behind me. “Did you find the house okay?”

“Yeah, the GPS directions were straightforward.” I follow him as he walks deeper into the house.

The entry hallway is long with a pair of French doors centered in the wall to my left. A peek through the glass reveals a home office. Or, rather, what’s supposed to be an office. The lone desk and chair in the room are accompanied by several cardboard boxes. Only one of them looks like it was opened.

Over his shoulder, Carter says, “That’s good. It’s a recent build so I wasn’t sure it would show up online so easily.”

“You built the house?”

“Yeah.”

Again, questions about his non-luxurious lifestyle choices flood my mind, but I remind myself it’s none of my business how he decides to spend or not spend his money.

Though, curiosity makes it impossible not to ask, “Why did you decide to live in Rose Hill?” Most Rough Riders live in one of the suburbs closer to the city, in more affluent neighborhoods.

“I grew up here, and my parents live five minutes away. Now that the twins are living with me, I thought it would be a good idea to be close to family.”

We arrive at an open-concept kitchen with a massive granite island separating it from the high-ceiling living room. The smell of cinnamon hits my nostrils. My eyes search for the source of the delicious aroma and find two slices of thick-cut bread on a skillet. Carter walks over and immediately flips the bread, revealing a lightly toasted surface.

I take in the bowl of beaten eggs, a carton of milk, and the cinnamon and sugar spread over the center island. “You’re making French toast?”

Carter’s back is to me as he pushes the bread to center it on the heat. “Yeah.”

“Impressive.” I nearly swoon as I take in the handsome man working in the kitchen wearing Clark Kent glasses. This is a fantasy I never knew I had.

“Thanks. It was my and my sister’s favorite growing up. Eventually, Mom got tired of making it all the time and insisted we learn how to make it ourselves.”

“Smart.” I watch him flip the bread and search for something to say to distract myself from admiring how attractive he is. “Do you only have one sibling?”

“Yeah, it’s just Carlee. Though, I grew up with Corey Johnson. He’s like a brother to me,” he mentions the star pitcher for the Texas Lonestars. I learned all about their friendship in my internet stalking last night. “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child. Mom realized her mistake after one.”

Carter shoots me a weird look, and I realize how my comment sounded.

Internally, I cringe and brace myself to explain my word choice.

But Carter moves past it like it didn’t happen. “Would you like a slice?” He gestures to the pan.

“Um… sure. Thanks.”

He nods and returns his attention to the task at hand.

I look around the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I’ve got this.” He lowers the heat on the stove. “How about you go introduce yourself to Abby and Andy? I already told them we were expecting you.”

Eager to have something to do other than admire his toned ass in those sweatpants, I agree, “Sounds good. Where are they?”

“Based on the shouts I heard earlier, upstairs in one of their rooms.” He looks over his shoulder and gestures to a second hallway that extends off the living room. “The stairs are that way.”

I nod and exit the kitchen without another word. I think I feel his eyes following me as I go, but I’m too much of a chicken to look over my shoulder and check. This arrangement will only work if he and I can put our brief past behind us, and I need to get a handle on myself if I’m going to successfully hide my attraction to this man.

My footsteps are quiet as I walk up the carpeted stairs. I reach the top landing and am greeted by more boxes stacked on top of each other, as well as books and toys strewn about the loft overlooking the living room below.

No shouts guide me on which way to go, but I hear sound coming from my right. So that’s the way I go.

Two doors are open. A glance through one reveals a bathroom. The second is a bedroom decorated for a little boy. Superhero sheets cover a twin-sized bed. A matching comforter is bundled on the floor. While the rest of the house looks like it’s in the process of being unpacked, this room is completely assembled. A bookshelf showcasing what I guess are favorite toys is situated in the corner of the room. A long, waist-high dresser runs along the far wall under the open window. And seated in the middle of the room on a navy blue rug is a little boy with brown, shaggy hair hovered over what looks like a LEGO car.

I tap my knuckles on the doorframe. “Hello.”

The boy looks up. I’m immediately struck by his resemblance to his father. “Hello,” he greets warily.

I remain in the doorway. “I’m Valerie. Your dad said he told you about me? You must be Andy.”

Understanding fills his adorable brown eyes. “You’re the new nanny.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean?”

“It depends on if you and I get along or not.”

“And if Dad likes you.”

My heart skips a beat. “Why do you say that?”

“Dad didn’t like any of our other nannies.”

Really?

I tilt my head to the side. “How many other nannies have you had?”

He looks up at the ceiling and hums, tapping his chin. “Like… eight?”

My eyes widen.

Eight?!

Carter’s gone through eight nannies in how long? Six months?

I try to remember when my dad said Carter took over custody of his kids. It might’ve been longer than six months, but certainly not longer than a year.

“That’s… a lot of nannies.”

“Tell me about it.” Andy sighs dramatically. It takes effort not to chuckle. “And all of them were so grumpy. You’re not going to be grumpy, are you?”

“I’m not usually grumpy,” I tell him. “And I’ll try my best not to be, but I can’t promise I’ll never be grumpy.”

“Why not? Being grumpy is no fun. It ruins my day when I’m grumpy.”

“I feel the same way, but sometimes people have bad days and feel grumpy.” Seeing his displeased frown, I add, “But I’ll make you a deal. If I’m having a bad day and feel grumpy, I promise I won’t take my grumpiness out on you.”

His head perks up. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay. Deal.”

This time, I can’t help but chuckle. “Deal,” I repeat, then motion towards the object in his hands. “What is that?”

“Batman’s car.”

“You mean the Batmobile?”

His expression brightens. “You know about superheroes?”

“A little.” I’m no comic-book aficionado, but I’ve seen mainstream movies over the years with my dad. He’s a big fan of the comic books from his youth.

“Who’s your favorite superhero?” Andy asks.

“Spiderman.” Mostly because I like the most recent films.

“I have a new Spiderman action figure!” He hops up and races to a toybox located next to the bookcase. He throws open the lid and digs inside. When he finds the action figure, he races back and offers the toy to me. “See!”

“Wow.” I take the action figure and turn it in my hands, making a show of checking it out. “This is great. And look! His hands are even shaped like he’s spraying a spider web.”

“It came with a web that attaches here on his arm,” he tells me, pointing to the toy. “But I lost it when we moved.”

“Maybe it’s in one of those boxes outside?”

“Maybe,” he says quietly. His mood dims.

I quickly change the subject. “Do you think you can introduce me to your sister?” It seems like I’ll get along well enough with one of Carter’s kids, but I need to see how his daughter takes to having a strange woman looking after her.

“Fine, but she’s a grump today. Just so you know.” He takes the action figure from me and places it on the bed.

I rise from my crouch and say, “Remember, sometimes people have bad days. And that’s okay.”

“Abby always has bad days,” he mumbles before walking out of the room.

Concern for the little girl I’m about to meet flickers in my mind. According to Dad, her and Andy’s lives were unexpectedly uprooted when their mom decided to leave them with Carter so she could travel with her boyfriend. The twins are young, but I can recall memories from that age. Something tells me this ordeal is going to have lasting effects on the little girl, and that makes me sad.

I follow Andy to the other side of the open loft where four additional doors are located. Three are closed, but one stands open. Through it, I see a girl with long blonde hair curled on a window seat, her nose tucked into a large book propped up on her knees.

“Abby!” Andy bellows unceremoniously, barging into his sister’s room. “This is Valerie, our new nanny.”

I refrain from correcting him. I’m his potential new nanny, pending how this interaction goes.

Abby looks up from her book. Her eyes narrow in annoyance. “I told you to leave me alone. I’m reading.”

Andy is unfazed. “Didn’t you hear me? Our new nanny is here.”

Abby glances at me as I step inside. “Hi.” She goes back to reading her book.

“Hi,” I return, doing my best not to show how awkward the dismissive greeting makes me feel. I’m an adult for goodness sake. I should be immune to a six-year-old’s attitude. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She turns the page of her book.

“Come on, Abby,” Andy groans. “Stop reading and come play with us.” He skips over to his sister and attempts to rip the book out of her hands.

“Andy! Stop!” She shrieks.

“Hey, now.” I step forward and gently place my hand on Andy’s shoulder. He immediately releases the book and steps back.

Wow… that was easy.

I clear my throat and add, “Abby doesn’t have to stop reading. I just wanted to say hello.”

The little girl clutches the book desperately to her chest. She casts me a short, appreciative look before scowling at her brother. “Yeah. I don’t have to stop. So leave me alone.”

“But I’m bored,” Andy wines. “You’re my only friend here.”

My heart squeezes.

Abby sighs. “Fine. I’ll play with you later.”

Andy straightens. “Promise?”

“Promise.” She reopens her book and flips to whatever page she’d been on. “Now, let me finish this section. I’m learning about amphibians.”

“Okay, Abby.” Andy is all smiles as he grabs my hand and hops out of the room, dragging me with him. “Come on, Valerie. I’ll show you my fort in the backyard in the meantime.”

“That sounds fun.” I let him lead me through the door but look over my shoulder to say goodbye to Abby to find her watching us. I hide my smile. I bet she’ll be down to join us within half an hour. “See you later, Abby.”

She ducks her head. “See you later,” she mumbles.

Andy talks about the latest superhero cartoon show he’s watching as we walk downstairs.

Carter is looking our way when we reach the kitchen. “So, how did it go?” he asks me.

“Too early to tell,” I reply.

“What are you talking about?” Andy looks between us.

“Nothing,” both Carter and I say at the same time.

Carter looks at me. “Do you need more time to decide?”

I purse my lips in thought, then admit, “Honestly, I think we should just do a trial run for a week or two. We won’t know if I’m a good fit until I actually do the job.

Sensing our conversation isn’t going to be quick, Andy drops my hand. I watch him walk into the living room and throw himself on the cozy-looking couch, pulling another action figure from between the cushions.

“Fair enough.” I look back at Carter and see him nod. “Should we talk about your pay? Do you have a rate in mind?”

“I do.” I may not have planned on taking this sort of job, but once it was presented to me, I made sure to do my research about competitive rates. “Since I haven’t been a nanny in a few years, I’d say twenty dollars an hour during the work week and twenty-five dollars an hour on weekends.”

Carter blinks. “That’s it?”

I tilt my head to the side. “Should I ask for more?”

“No… I mean, I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I paid previous nannies much more through the agency.”

“Well, they probably had more experience.”

“That, or I was being robbed.”

“That’s very possible.”

“Dad,” Andy whines from the couch. “Can you hurry up? I want to show Valerie my fort.”

“One minute, buddy.”

The six-year-old grumbles but goes back to playing with his toy wearing an adorable frown. Again, I can’t help but smile. There’s just something about the little guy I find adorably charming.

“What would be your rate for overnight stays?” Carter’s question recaptures my focus.

His expression is oddly blank when I meet his gaze.

I replay his question in my head. “You mean for when you’re out of town?”

He nods.

I consider the options. “The same as weekend hours, I suppose.” If the kids are sleeping, I’d feel bad about taking more money for just being in the house. I’d still collect a hell of a paycheck at twenty-five dollars an hour overnight.

“What if you were to be a live-in nanny?”

“Absolutely not.” I don’t even take a second to think about my answer.

He blinks. “That was quick.”

I chew the inside of my cheek. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was just a question. I know Rose Hill is a bit of a drive from the city, and I thought you living here might be easier.”

It might be, but I wasn’t interested in toeing that line with him.

“That’s nice of you, but the drive won’t be a problem. Promise.”

Intelligent brown eyes scan my face. Seeing my resolve, he dips his chin. “Okay.”

“Are you done talking yet?” Andy moans. He sits on his knees, leaning over the back of the couch, staring at me and his dad.

“Don’t you want the French toast I made you?” Carter asks, dodging his son’s question.

Andy doesn’t stray from his goal. “I’ll eat later. I want to show Valerie the fort.”

I chuckle at his insistent tone and the tired sigh that escapes his father’s lips. “What if Valerie is hungry? Did you even ask her?”

Andy’s eyes turn to me. “You aren’t hungry, are you?” His pleading look matches his pleading tone. Even if I was starving, he’d be hard to say no to.”

“I can wait,” I tell him.

“Are you sure?” Carter presses, frowning.

“It’s fine,” I reassure him then look at Andy. “I want to see the fort.”

“Yes!” Andy cries out, hopping over the couch, earning himself a reprimand from Carter.

“Sorry, Dad,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. He races to my side and once again latches onto my hand. “Come on, Valerie. This is going to be awesome.”

“I bet!” I smile down at the energetic child. I look up at his dad and see his eyes soften with an emotion I’m not interested in naming.

“Today will be free of charge,” I say as a joke.

He nods his head, looking serious. “I’ll have my lawyers draw up a trial employment contract right away.”

“You do that,” I reply as Andy leads me into the backyard, choosing to ignore the way my heart flutters in my chest when I see Carter’s answering smile.

This is going to be harder than I thought.