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He studies me closely, clearly calling bullshit without saying it. “I know you’re close to Tess, but are you still that close to all your siblings?”

More questions it is.

Crossing my legs, I sit up straight. “I’ve got younger brothers who are twins. They’re twenty and enjoying college life, so I don’t get to see them as much, but we talk almost every day.”

His jaw flexes like he’s working something out. “What about your dad?”

Something in my chest squeezes tight. “We don’treally speak. Long story. Let’s just say he and I had different views on a lot of things.”

There’s a quiet patience in his eyes, the kind that says he’ll wait me out if I want to talk, but won’t hold it against me if I don’t. It makes my pulse kick up, so I do the only thing that feels safe.

I change the subject.

“Does Rosie remind you of Amber?” The words slip out before I can stop them, and for half a second, I worry I’ve crossed a line, but Wes just exhales and gives me a reassuring smile.

“She’s got Amber’s eyes. And the attitude? All hers. Amber could win a fight without raising her voice. Mike was the quieter one, more awkward, but loyal as hell. The kind of guy who’d help you move house and then bring beer after.” He peels at the corner of the label, his thumb working it loose in slow, distracted circles. “They were good together. Stupid in love. Rosie had them wrapped around her tiny finger the second she arrived.”

His gaze lifts to meet mine again, and something about the way he’s looking at me cracks my chest wide open.

“She’ll still have a good life, Wes.”

He doesn’t respond, but his shoulders sag a little as the tension melts away.

“And your parents?” I ask. “I kinda assumed they were, I don’t know. Not around?”

His mouth twists. “Dead, you mean?”

I wince. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine. Most people assume.” He takes another drink. “They’re alive. Retired. Traveling around in a camper van somewhere in southern Europe, last I heard.”

“Seriously?”

“Not exactly the nurturing types. Amber and I figured things out on our own.” He tips his beer toward me. “They send postcards. They’ve got better communication with the Italian postal system than they ever had with their kids.”

“Wow,” I breathe out. “Well, it’s their loss. Rosie’s amazing.”

His lips pull into something close to a smile—a real one.

“She is.” He’s silent for a long breath, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. “So what’s your plan? Going to be a nanny forever?”

“Firing me again?”

He wipes his threatening smile away with his thumb. “Not tonight. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

His knee brushes mine under the table, and even through denim, the heat of him sinks into my skin. The reaction is instant, distracting, and completely inappropriate. My thighs clench before I can stop them.

“So…” he prompts, unaware that my body is experiencing a hot flush.

I lean back in my chair just to put some distance between us. “Honestly? I don’t know. I tried college, thinking it might give me a big career epiphany. All it did was prove I preferred kids over adults.”

He nods like he gets it. “Nothing wrong with knowing where you belong.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’ve figured that part out yet,” I admit. “But Rosie makes it easier to forget I haven’t.”

He’s quiet for a second, then says, “Well, she’d never forgive me if I let you go.”

I glance away, attempting to play it cool, but the heat rising in my chest has other plans. I grab my glass and take a sip, giving my face something to do other than blush.