Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Madison,” Chase says as I approach, his hand held out in front of him.
He sees my hesitation, his eyes narrowing slightly as I give in to courtesy and shake his hand.
He motions for me to sit across from him, waiting to drop down himself until I’m situated in the booth. Our positioning puts my back to most of the restaurant, and I’m grateful to not have to see the faces of everyone as I have this conversation with him.
“How have you been?”
I blink at him. I fully understand common courtesy. Often, I have to participate in it just to keep arguments from starting. Being rude to people in town, even if you’re just having an off day, will make the rounds, eventually leading to someone calling my parents, and that’s not a conversation I want to have with my mother.
“I’m fine, Chase. Why am I here?”
He swallows, and I read it as relief, making me realize that he’s not exactly comfortable with this situation either. Maybe the man still feels guilty for what he did years ago, and if that’s the case, then good. He should.
“As you know, I’ve moved back to Lindell for a short period of time, and I need help with my twin boys, Cale and Cole.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “What?”
“You come highly recommended as a nanny.”
A scoff erupts from my lips before I can stop it.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss, leaning closer to him in agitation.
“I’m hoping you won’t use that sort of language around my kids,” he says with a frown.
“Your kids? Seriously, Chase?”
It’s his turn to look confused.
“I double majored in interior design and business at the University of Texas. I’m not a babysitter.”
“Laurel Jones said you did an excellent job keeping an eye on her little girls.”
“I was in high school when I watched those kids,” I growl.
“It would be mostly daytime hours,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “The pay would come with an enhanced benefits package, including but not limited to—”
I zone out for a second, wondering when I turned into such an old lady that I might consider being his nanny after hearing the words benefit package. Working for someone else isn’t what I’ve ever wanted to do. It’s why I started my own company in Austin, but medical and dental insurance is a big deal.
“As I said, I need stability in my boys’ lives. They need less chaotic days, and it’s not safe for them at the hardware store.”
If I recall correctly, Chase was practically raised at Wooden It Be Nice. His parents have owned the store for as long as I’ve been alive. Anytime Chase is brought up in a conversation, his dad, Henry, is always quick to assure people that his son will return one day to take over the family business. When I’d find an excuse to go to the store, however, he looked annoyed to even have to stand in the place.
“No,” I tell him, the only answer I can give him when I realize that instead of hearing his words, all I’m doing is staring at his lips.
I can argue with myself for years, tell everyone I meet that my hatred for this man is bone deep and will last longer than I will on this earth, but the truth of the matter is that he is blazing hot. His dark hair and bright blue eyes are the stuff fantasies are made of. If he sat there and didn’t ruin my day by opening his mouth, I could just stare at him and be entertained for a millennium.
“No?”
The fact that he sounds surprised, as if there wasn’t a chance that anyone could tell him no, makes my decision even stronger.
But then he smirks. I’d probably get lost in it if I didn’t recognize it as the same look he gave girls in high school when they were being mopey and putting on a show to get his attention. The man has always had the ability to turn any conversation to focus on him. Those girls had a hard time telling him no. I can recall no less than a handful of times I overheard just what he got up to in the wee hours of the night after he left the pasture parties. I refuse to fall prey to the charm.
“That look,” I say, pointing at him and making a circle with my hand to encompass his entire face. “That face doesn’t work on me.”
He presses his hand to his cheek as if he doesn’t have a damn clue what I’m talking about. His smile is slow, and I’ll be damned if my lips don’t mirror his for the briefest of seconds before I catch myself.
“I can pay you five thousand more than what I initially offered,” he says.
I was so lost in looking at him, I can’t even recall what his original offer was.