14. Teller

14

TELLER

C oming home to a woman trying to break into my window isn’t how I thought I’d spend my morning.

“I know this looks bad, but I swear I’m not a burglar or anything.” Her voice is breathless, tinged with nervousness.

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks like you’re trying to break in.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “No, no, it’s not like that at all. I’m Ayla, the new live-in nanny for Piper. Kip and Clay hired me.”

Live-in nanny? For Piper? I stare at her, trying to process this unexpected information. Kip and Clay never mentioned anything about a nanny, let alone one who would be living with us. I search my exhausted brain, wondering if perhaps they did tell me and I just forgot. But no, I’m certain I would remember something like that.

I study her more closely, taking in her earnest expression and the way she bites her lower lip anxiously. She doesn’t look like a typical thief or intruder. But then again, appearances can be deceiving.

I raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Is that so?” I drawl, taking her in as she’s stuck in my window.

She huffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny. Are you going to help me or not?”

“I’m serious,” I deadpan, though my eyes are twinkling with mischief. “And I’m not letting you into my home until I get answers. Breaking and entering, stalking... you’ve got all the hallmarks of a grade-A creeper.”

Her jaw drops in indignation. “Excuse me? I am not a stalker!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I shrug, enjoying the way her cheeks flush with annoyance. “I mean, what kind of nanny tries to break in through the window in the middle of the night?”

“The kind who got hired last-minute and wasn’t told the door auto-locked,” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look, I get how this must seem. But I promise, I’m telling the truth. Clay and Kip brought me on to help with Piper. You can call them down right now and they’ll confirm everything.”

“Even if I did believe you, why’d you choose a window rather than calling?”

The fierce shepherd, sitting beside her, continues to bark and snarl. I find my gaze drifting to the girl, taking in details I hadn’t fully registered before. The way her shirt has ridden up slightly in the scuffle, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of smooth skin. The curve of her hip, the dip of her waist. Despite the tense situation, I feel a flicker of attraction stirring within me.

She notices my wandering eyes and tugs self-consciously at her shirt, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “My phone is inside, and the window was slightly open,” she explains hastily. “I thought maybe I could slip inside. I didn’t mean to cause such a commotion.”

I drag my focus back to her face, trying to ignore the way my pulse has quickened. “Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance,” I quip dryly.

The dog takes a menacing step forward, hackles raised, and I instinctively take a step back. The girl reaches out to place a calming hand on the shepherd’s head. “Easy, boy,” she murmurs soothingly. “It’s okay.”

To my surprise, the dog’s growls subside into a low grumble, though he remains alert and watchful.

I assess the situation, weighing my options. I could call the cops, and have her hauled away for attempted break-in. But something about her story rings true, and besides, I’m too damn tried to deal with the hassle of police reports and questioning.

“Alright, look,” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “It’s late, and I’m exhausted and kind of believe you. We can figure it out in the morning.”

Relief washes over her features, and she nods eagerly. “Yes, thank you. I appreciate it.”

I can’t help but steal another glance at her over my shoulder before I round the corner and get in through the front door.

She’s prettier when I can see more of her face, see the way the moonlight plays over her delicate features, the tousled curls framing her face. Damn. Nanny or not, this girl is going to be trouble. I can feel it in my bones.

I move over to the window, messing with it until I finally force it open.

I gesture for Ayla to enter through the now open window. She hoists herself up, that tantalizing strip of skin at her waist catching my eye once again as her shirt rides up. I force myself to look away, reminding myself that ogling the potential nanny is definitely not appropriate.

Ayla swings her leg over the windowsill, attempting to gracefully slide into the room. Instead, her foot catches and she tumbles forward with a surprised yelp. Acting on instinct, I lunge to catch her, my arms encircling her waist as she falls against my chest.

For a moment, we freeze, our faces mere inches apart. This close, I can see the delicate scatter of freckles across her nose, the flecks of gold in her green eyes. Heat floods through me and I suddenly become acutely aware of every place our bodies are touching.

Ayla is the first to break the spell. She clears her throat, her cheeks flushing an enticing shade of pink. “Um, thanks,” she mumbles, extracting herself from my arms. “Guess I’m not as smooth as I thought.”

“I don’t know,” I drawl, unable to resist a little flirtatious teasing. “Felt pretty smooth from where I was standing.”

Piper’s cries echo down the hallway as we approach the living room. “Sounds like someone’s hungry,” Ayla remarks, a soft smile on her face. “Mind if I...?” She gestures towards the door.

I nod, pushing it open for her. “Be my guest.”

As Ayla enters the room, cooing gently to Piper, I lean against the wall and watch, transfixed. There’s something so natural about the way she scoops the baby into her arms, her touch tender yet confident. Piper’s wails quiet almost instantly.

“There now, sweet girl,” Ayla murmurs, swaying gently from side to side. “I’ve got you. Let’s get you a bottle, hmm?”

She glances up then, catching me staring, and I quickly avert my gaze, rubbing the back of my neck. What is wrong with me? I don’t usually get flabbergasted by a woman. I clear my throat.

I look around the room and see all of the new stuff for Piper lying around…I know for a fact that Clay and Kip didn’t get all of this stuff on their own. They live like college frat boys.

I turn my gaze back to Ayla and watch as she handles Piper expertly.

“You’re really good with her,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s why I was hired.” She smiles. “But go wake up Clay if you don’t believe me.”

“That’s not necessary,” I comment. “I believe you. Piper is in good hands. I’m going to bed. Welcome to our little chaotic household.”