Chapter 9

An hour later, I'm at the new offices of the Seattle Sasquatches, perched at the edge of my desk. Harper and Lyric are cozily squished together on the small love seat across from me, laptops precariously balanced on their knees.

We're on a mission to find the perfect nanny for Myra. Someone who's not only skilled but also compassionate and loving. I mean this little girl moved across the country with her dad leaving everything behind—family and friends included. We all agree that whoever gets the job will provide stability and a sense of security to this little one.

Scanning the list with sharp eyes, Harper thoughtfully tucks a chestnut strand behind her ear. "They'll need ample experience of course, plus endless energy to keep up with a five-year-old . . ."

Lyric nods enthusiastically, "Oh, yes, stamina is a must when chasing a little one around."

Harper's gaze narrows, zeroing in on the most critical qualification. "And most importantly, someone who can handle Tyberius's rather . . . imposing personality."

Lyric snorts in amusement, flipping her hair over her shoulder flirtatiously. "By ‘handle Tyberius's personality,' you mean someone who won't turn into a puddle of want every time he walks into the room with that gorgeous face." Her manicured fingers dance rapidly across the keyboard and she lifts the screen, displaying a photo of the chiseled single dad. "I mean, the man is walking artwork."

"Ten out of ten," Harper agrees with a dramatic sigh, brushing back her chestnut waves. "Even I would have trouble keeping my hands away and I swore off men long ago."

I can't help but laugh, leaning back in my chair and tapping a pen against my lips. The image of Tyberius, with his effortlessly styled hair and those green piercing eyes that seem to see right through you, flits across my mind. I release a breath, meeting my sisters' amused gazes. "Yeah, ‘artwork' is one way to put it. But little Myra needs stability right now, not a revolving door of swooning nannies."

Lyric bursts into giggles. "Oh, yes, just one smoldering look from that smoking hot hockey stud and they'd be melting into dreamy puddles under his skates."

"So true," I say.

"We'll have to find someone tough as nails who is immune to sweaty athletes." Harper winks dramatically. "Good luck with that."

That reminds me that this is serious business and I have to find someone now for my own sanity. "I know you find this amusing but we really need to find someone suitable."

Harper clicks on a profile, her expression morphing to one of concentration. "Here's a prospect. Alessia Stanley. Former preschool teacher, five years of nannying experience with high-profile families." She scans further down the page. "And it says here that she's looking for a long-term position."

Lyric leans in, squinting at Harper's screen. "Impressive. But does she know what she's signing up for? I mean, it's not just Myra. It's the whole ‘dealing with the schedule of a hockey player who might be gone for days at a time.'"

"Ugh, dealbreaker. She doesn't do live-in arrangements or overnights," Harper interjects with a frown, brushing back her wavy chestnut hair in frustration. Her nimble fingers fly across the keyboard as she refines the search. "Okay, let's add a filter for willingness to stay overnight when needed."

I nod slowly, setting down my pen with a heavy sigh.

Harper closes the laptop, her probing gaze meeting mine. "Fair warning, you're not going to like my next words."

My stomach sinks. "Just tell me," I say tightly.

"Once I added that overnight filter . . ." She winces. "Zero candidates on my site."

I let out a frustrated huff, shifting anxiously as I wring my hands. "There has to be something we missed. Here, let me dig deeper . . ." I reach for my laptop. I blow out a sharp breath, willing myself to remain calm and pragmatic. "Okay, we'll expand the parameters and reconsider previous candidates . . ."

"I have one prospect," Lyric announces triumphantly. But her face falls as she scans the screen. "Oh, wait, scratch that. She only does newborns and moves on after six months." Her shoulders slump in defeat.

Harper stands from the couch, arms crossed. "Did you have any luck?"

"No one checks all the boxes," I say, shaking my head. "What about Teddy? Has she found someone yet?"

Lyric checks her phone and shakes her head, dark hair swishing. "I texted Teddy for an update. She said it'd take some time—she needs a couple days to compile the best candidates."

I blow out a frustrated breath, glancing at my watch as the alarm sounds. It's time to pick up Myra. I stand abruptly, grabbing my purse and keys. "Keep me posted if you find any promising options. But I've gotta run to get the little one now." I open my drawer to grab some cash from my jar. "After, I'm heading to the ice cream parlor and then I'll feed her lunch."

Harper cocks an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Shouldn't you start with lunch, then dessert?"

"Oh, shush, you," I say with a dramatic wave of my hand. "After the stressful day Myra and I've had, we deserve a little pick-me-up in the form of a magical cloud of happiness, scooped up from unicorn dreams andthe land of rainbow wishes, served in a cone of chocolate and joy."

Lyric grins, "Nothing better fora rough day like a heaping cone of unicorn dreams."

"I don't know how Mom came up with that, but to this day I still believe ice cream is exactly that," Harper says. "Go get your delicious unicorn dream. We'll keep looking at other websites."

"Can't argue with that logic," Lyric chuckles. "Go enjoy. We'll keep mining the web for Mary Poppins."

I hug my wonderful sisters tightly, beyond grateful for their help. "Love you both. I'll check in later." I give a little wave then head out the door.