5. Lila

5

LILA

N erves had me shaking in my discount heels as I approached the fancy café where I'd be meeting with Felipe. It felt less like I was going to my first ever "business lunch" and more like I was walking into a trap. And honestly, I could have been doing exactly that. What kind of idiot accepted vague job offers from random, albeit stunningly handsome, men on the sidewalk? What if, despite the beautiful kindness I'd seen in his strikingly green eyes, Felipe was really just another creep like Mr. Mayhew?

No way, my little fluttery heart told me. He was kind, and chivalrous, and dashing. He was just… lovely.

It was an inadequate word for it, really, even if it was true. Dazzling may have been closer to the full truth. Maybe I'd have to whip out a thesaurus to find the perfect, Felipe-worthy word when I inevitably journaled all about him. I could already imagine the flourishes I could give to my tale of our city street meet-cute and the little romance it set off in my head.

I smoothed my business-like skirt—a bargain-bin pencil skirt that looked appropriately professional despite its secret elastic waistband, thank God—and swallowed hard around my scratchy throat. My mouth was bone dry from the worry of it all. For a second I almost panicked, fearing that there would be no normal, non-sparkling water at the high-end place I'd never have entered without Felipe's invitation. What if my voice cracked from my parchedness and I embarrassed myself? But as I walked through the sleek glass doors of the swanky eatery, I realized I was being ridiculous. Sure, that was partly because I immediately saw one of the poised, white-shirt servers glide past me while carrying a pristine glass pitcher of the non-bubbly stuff, but I'd take the win regardless.

When I mentioned to the pretty hostess that I was meeting someone, craning my neck around to look for the fairy tale prince I'd met on the street, she immediately understood. "Ah, you're the guest of Mr. Rojas. Right this way, Miss."

Mr. Rojas. Why did that title make my insides feel warm and gooey all of a sudden? I followed the hostess on a winding path through the bright, swanky interior of the café. She brought me to a white-clothed table where Felipe sat, dressed in a well-tailored gray suit that was meant to be casual with its lack of a tie. It still made him look like a movie star, but I was pretty sure anything would. I smiled, raising a hand to greet him, and he smiled back with the perfect white teeth he'd used to charm me before.

As I got closer to the table, though, I noticed that Felipe wasn't alone. Another man sat beside him, staring at me with an expectant gaze.

Where were all of these hot men coming from all of a sudden? Twenty-two years of hardly even a crush, and now I'd met two model-handsome men in the span of a week. Felipe's companion was absolutely gorgeous, though in a completely different way from the olive-skinned, dancer-like Felipe. This man was tall and slender enough that I could sense his towering height even while he was seated, and his sharp features and too-blue irises made him almost too intimidating to look in the eye. The coolly detached expression on his face didn't help, either. I did get a sense that I'd seen him before, though—his neatly-styled dark blonde hair and sharp cheekbones reminded me of something , and it was honestly scary how even that sense of familiarity didn't make it easier to see and be seen by him. My skin prickled with uncomfortable warmth for more than one reason as Felipe stood to greet me with a luminous smile.

"Ah, Lila," he almost sighed as he pulled me in for a quick, friendly hug. It was still plenty professional, at least on his end, but my heart fluttered erratically in my chest regardless. His body was warm and firm against mine, and his arms held on with a genuine tightness that made it less fake than some cursory hug of politeness. I could have stayed there forever if the circumstances would allow it. "Lovely to see you again. I hope you don't mind that I invited my friend and colleague, Miles Kramer, to lunch with us. He's the one who needs your nannying services, you see."

"Oh," I let out as I approached my seat. Felipe pulled the chair out for me like a true gentleman, and it was hard not to swoon as I sat down, his sleek suited form hovering behind me. I cleared my throat. "Um, yes. That's perfectly fine. Nice to meet you, Mr. Kramer," I tacked on for the blue-eyed man.

"Miles," he corrected. "Likewise." He said the last word in a tone that said it was very much not nice to meet me, but at least we were on a first-name basis.

A pretty waitress approached our table within the next few minutes. She was taller and much thinner than me, with the kind of willowy build I'd once envied, though she looked to be within a few years of my age. Her elven face glowed with youth and likely some expensive makeup products my roommate Christine would lust after at Sephora. When she spoke, she looked directly at Felipe, then Miles, ignoring me completely.

"Mr. Rojas, Mr. Kramer. What can I get you two this afternoon?" Her voice was a seductive purr, and I looked down at the table to fidget with the neatly-rolled silverware in front of me.

"Ah, I believe it's the custom to allow the ladies to order first." Felipe smoothly pivoted it back to me. When I glanced up to meet his eyes, he was smiling at me with encouragement that made me want to giggle for some reason. "Order whatever you like, Lila. My treat."

I wasn't sure whether I imagined the sour expression that seemed to settle over the server's face or not. Most likely, I was just feeling a little out of place in such conventionally beautiful company. After a lot of years of struggling with how society treated me and other people with my body type, I'd learned to love my curves—cellulite and back rolls and all. Still, I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious sitting with these attractive men. Some long-buried part of my brain, full of insecurities I'd mostly learned to discard, wondered what this pretty young woman thought I was doing with a couple of guys who would look much more logical paired with someone like her.

No time for this now, Lila, I told myself. You're basically at a job interview. Be confident—or at least fake it better than this.

That meant, at the very least, giving the waitstaff my order before her shift ended. I squirmed in my seat and attempted to read the menu that I'd been ignoring until this moment. Even though I knew Felipe was rich—his suits alone would have told me that even if my roommates and I hadn't Googled him last night and learned about his massive net worth—it felt wrong to go for something terribly expensive when he was paying. My working-class, Midwestern parents had raised me better than that. Besides, Felipe had already been kinder to me than made sense after the clumsiness of our first meeting.

"I'll have the chicken Caesar salad," I said when my eyes finally remembered how to read—no prices listed on the menu, of course, but a simple salad couldn't be terribly pricey, could it? "And just water is fine."

"Sparkling or non?" The elven waitress asked, and I wanted to laugh, likely out of nerves as much as real humor.

"Uh, regular, please." As far as I was concerned, sparkling water was just watered-down dish soap. Yuck.

"I'll have the same," Mr. Kramer— Miles— told our server without looking at her. He didn't even acknowledge her as he handed over his menu for her to take. In fact, his eyes, ice cold but stunning in a majestic glacier kind of way, hadn't left my face since I'd arrived.

Relatedly, my cheeks hadn't stopped burning the whole time, either. Even the slightly heavier makeup than I was used to that Christine had helped me apply likely couldn't hide the blazing red underneath. Already, this lunch felt endless. There had better be a good nannying job at the end of it.

Felipe, Miles, and I attempted to make casual small talk about the weather for a little while, the two men clearly stalling for a reason I didn't understand until they both looked over my shoulder at the same time. I heard footsteps approaching, and my stomach sank. I'd sort of been looking forward to this lunch-interview when I thought it would be just me and Prince Charming Felipe, and now there was yet another lunchmate?

"Pardon my tardiness, gentlemen," a smooth, deep voice broke through the quiet. It was like warm caramel and silk, and hearing it from behind me sent a shiver through me. "I had a meeting run a little long, which is typical. Who's this?"

That last bit, I figured, was his attempt to address my presence at this table. But wouldn't he have at least known about me ahead of time, even if I hadn't heard a thing about him?

"Aaron Pierce, this is Lila Dawson," Felipe introduced me. He finished with "God willing, she's going to be your new nanny," right as I was turning to get a look at the newcomer.

Oh, jeez. If I'd been flustered by Felipe and Miles, this man, Aaron Pierce, had me practically shaking in my sensible shoes.

Just as tall but far broader in build than Miles, Aaron Pierce was the picture of idealized masculinity you only ever saw in soap operas and action movies. A square jaw, large hands that displayed his clear strength despite their elegance, and serious dark brown eyes perfectly complemented his sleek silver hair, creating a picture that was the definition of distinguished. Gina would have called him a silver fox, and even though older men weren't usually my type, I'd have to agree. I'd always gone for the pretty boys, the fairy tale princes like Felipe, but as I took in the full, glorious picture of Aaron Pierce in his dark blue suit and silk tie, I felt my body react in a way it rarely had before. I even had to squirm a little in my seat, awkwardly crossing my legs under the table as I felt a warm wetness pool between my thighs.

They really should invent a new level of embarrassment, something beyond mortification, just for me.

"Oh?" Mr. Pierce intoned, raising a dark brow as he gave Felipe a withering look that wasn't quite a glare. Felipe, unbothered, smiled wider.

"Yes, my friend and business associate. I met Miss Dawson on the street of your lovely city yesterday afternoon, and I learned that she is in need of nannying work just at the same time that you and my partner here are in need of such services. Two birds, one stone, yes?"

"And I thought this was simply a casual lunch between new colleagues," Mr. Pierce said coldly.

My stomach sank at this new knowledge that Felipe had basically tricked this intimidating older man into meeting with me. He took his seat carefully beside Felipe so that the three of them looked like a panel of judges, scrutinizing my every move. I swallowed hard and hoped they couldn't sense how nervous I was now.

"I didn't know there were two of you," I squeaked out. "I… would I work for you both?" Did I imagine how Miles's lips seemed to twitch, his eyes still never leaving my face?

"Lila, I'm sorry for the confusion. Allow me to explain, will you?" Felipe asked with such a soft, kind expression that I would have said yes to anything. I nodded, and he explained the situation—Miles had a three-year-old in need of a new nanny, and Mr. Pierce had recently come to be the impromptu guardian of his young nephew through a series of unfortunate circumstances Felipe didn't know or wouldn't describe. It was kind of funny that both men happened to need nannies, and I thought it was lovely that Felipe's philanthropic spirit carried over to wanting to help them outside of his usual work, but he didn't seem to answer my question about the logistics of my nannying for two children at once—if that was even what was being asked of me. The ages of both children were ideal, though, and made me want to accept the challenge. Olivia and baby Jamie were exactly the demographic I loved to work with most. Toddlers and babies were funny and cute and always bonded to me better than the older kids did. I would love to avoid another Reggie this time around.

I didn't have the job yet, though. And the second he'd lowered himself into his seat at the table and straightened his back into perfect, all-business posture, Mr. Aaron Pierce wanted to make that fact known.

"Did you bring a resume, Ms. Dawson?" He asked in a clipped, professional tone.

"I, uh, can email it to you," I told him uncertainly. His face remained impassive, his stare piercing, and I cleared my throat. "I didn't have a proper bag to put it in that I could bring with me on the train, so…" I gestured to the small purse I held in my lap. "But I can give you my references."

"I see," Mr. Pierce said. "So, how long have you been nannying? What are your credentials? Are you CPR certified?"

That started a barrage of questions, the intensity of this lunch-interview ramping up with each new query he shot at me. I almost felt like I was under attack as he questioned my grades back in college, my knowledge of the city, my ability to defend myself and his nephew in the case of a physical altercation with an intruder. Sweat dotted my brow, and a very loud part of my brain was telling me to run away. You can do this, Lila, I tried to comfort myself internally as I found my stride and stopped stumbling over my words. Then, at the thought of my bank account's future dwindling away, You have no choice but to do this.

The server eventually brought us our lunches, and Aaron still didn't let up, asking me about my knowledge of child psychology and the latest in children's literature between dignified bites of some fancy quinoa bowl he'd ordered. That last question was my specific area of expertise, at least, and I met Felipe's eyes as I gushed about the emotional intelligence and beautiful writing in a recent picture book series on the market that I loved. Felipe's stunning bottle green irises seemed to light with joy, showing a passion that mirrored my own as he watched me. Stubborn, silly butterflies swarmed in my stomach and refused to calm down as I munched at my salad.

If I wasn't so sure that I was great at my job, that the combination of years of babysitting experience I had before I was even out of high school, glowing reviews from families I'd nannied for in the past few years, and a nearly-completed degree in Early Childhood Education would be enough to land this gig, I likely wouldn't have survived Aaron Pierce's never-ending assault on my competence and my character. Instead, the only really unsettling thing was the intensity with which Aaron and Miles both looked at me during the whole ordeal. Felipe's perfect handsomeness and gentle kindness softened the effect of those laser beam stares, at least. The sweetest and most approachable of the three rich, powerful men, he gave me encouraging nods, soft half-smiles, and even a wink at one point during Aaron's interrogation. I wasn't sure if that meant I was nailing it or just that he was perfect, but I'd take it.

The hardcore questionnaire was certainly overkill, even compared to interviews I'd had with the biggest helicopter parents I'd worked with in the past. But when Mr. Pierce—I got the impression he'd never give the Call me Aaron invitation—told me the pay rate for the position toward the end, I knew the third degree was more than worth it. This man was willing to pay me three times as much as the Mayhews had, and at the time, that was the most money I could imagine being paid to nanny ever . When Miles chimed in that he'd be willing to pay the same, with a competitive glance at the older man that suggested he'd even be willing to go higher if it meant he could lock me down first, I wanted to pass out.

"Thank you for considering me for this opportunity," I said to Mr. Pierce when he finally seemed satisfied with my answers. I'd always been the type-A, good at school, does well in interviews type of girl, and something about that huge wad of cash on the line had let me answer even more confidently. I hadn't ever considered myself good under pressure before, since stress usually made me want to curl up and cry, but it was good to prove myself wrong for once.

Mr. Pierce nodded carefully, seeming to consider how he could further assess my rightness for this job. But he was coming up blank, and then Miles gently raised his hand above the table as if asking to be called on in school. I blinked at him, then Felipe, and we both gave the much quieter man a go ahead nod.

"Aaron seems to have covered all of the bases, and I'm satisfied that you'd be more than capable of keeping my daughter safe, healthy, and entertained far better than I could," he started carefully. "I only have one question, really. An unconventional one."

"Sure," I urged. A brief pause, and then he somehow managed to pull off a devastating line without an ounce of emotion.

"Will you be able to give her love?"

In the stunned silence I inhabited, I actually took the time to notice the quality of his voice, since he'd spoken more than a couple of words at last. Despite its near-monotone flatness, it was a pleasant one. Less startlingly deep than Aaron's, not beautifully accented like Felipe's, but… nice. I could imagine warmth in it so easily, even through his attempts at keeping things robotic.

I'd hardly considered the question itself on any real level when I answered, the words flowing out of me. "Of course I'd give her love, Mr.—Miles. Honestly, I love every child I've ever nannied for. I keep up with their soccer games, and their science fairs, and even go to family picnics once in a while, years after I've stopped working for them. Leaving them…" I trailed off, feeling my characteristic inner mush threatening to overflow in the form of tears. I held them back, but my voice quavered when I said, "Leaving is always hard. But it's good, too, you know? Getting to see how they can thrive without you. Watching them grow up from afar…

"The reason I'm in need of a new job so urgently is because I just recently had to quit working with a family who… didn't treat me well. Even their son, an eight-year-old who I thought would be so fun to work with, was awful to me. And his parents didn't care, no matter how many times he threw dangerous projectiles at my head—it was my attempt to confront his dad that was the last straw, really. But I know even now that it's not because of Reggie that I had to leave, and I even loved him , that little menace. I feel awful that I left when he so clearly needed love, since his parents didn't care enough to teach him how to be kind, and I hope that the love I tried to give him made some kind of impact, at least. Love is the whole reason I do this work. Being able to make a living off that love is just a bonus."

My spiel concluded, I shut my mouth and waited, hoping my overt displays of emotion wouldn't make these rich, powerful men think less of me somehow. When Miles opened his mouth again, I didn't expect him to ask, "Any chance that little menace was Reggie Mayhew ?"

I blinked at him. "Uh… yeah. You know him?"

Taking our whole table, maybe the whole restaurant, by complete surprise, Miles threw back his head and laughed. A stark contrast from… well, the rest of his whole vibe. His laugh was light and joyous, full of a bright energy that made me smile, too. Felipe, Aaron, and some of the neighboring diners all looked around at Miles with confusion etched clearly on their faces, but he seemed unperturbed as he let out his guffaws. When he finally settled, his blue eyes a little watery from all the mirth, he told me, "I live next door to the Mayhews and their nightmare child. Whole family is a nightmare, really. If you survived even a day in that house, you're halfway to sainthood in my book, never mind being a good nanny."

My breath let itself out in a long sigh of relief. "Small world," I murmured through my stunned smile. Was it normal to feel starstruck by a man's laugh like this? I'd have to ask Gina and Christine when I got home.

"So, gentlemen, am I right to think we've got a match made in nannying heaven here?" Felipe asked his colleagues, smiling at me from the side of his beautiful lips and making me want to lean across the table and kiss him at the same time. That feeling only doubled when, noticing the hesitation from the other two men, Felipe added, "Need I remind you that she's available to start immediately?"

That sealed it, then. Miles and Mr. Pierce spoke simultaneously, rushing to snatch me up before the other could, and I was shaken up by the fervor of their unison. "You're hired."

"On a trial basis," Mr. Pierce made sure to add. "I can't afford to be too choosy, what with the urgency of my nephew's situation. But know this, Ms. Dawson—I may not know much about childcare, but I do know how to manage my employees. I'll be keeping a keen eye on you throughout this trial."

I could deal with that. For the amount of money these two were promising me, I could deal with almost anything. But shock still reverberated through my whole body, pulsing along with the rhythm of the words, You're hired.

Double hired, even, by a pair of men who made me feel a little wobbly just by existing, and their charmingly charismatic friend. Things really seemed to be looking up—the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the result of a gully washer of a storm. I just hoped the thunder wouldn't come roaring back anytime soon.