Page 13 of Nanny for Grumpy Grant (Shared by the Carter Brothers #1)

IVY

W hile Emily builds a lopsided zoo out of wooden blocks and narrates a story about a giraffe who wants to be a ballerina, I sit on the rug nearby, legs folded under me, sipping lukewarm coffee.

I keep catching myself glancing at the door, half expecting Grant to walk back in.

He hasn’t lingered once since I started—just quick greetings, brief instructions, then off to work.

Professional. Distant. I should be glad.

It’s exactly what I wanted, right? No confusing signals, no more unexpected moments in the kitchen.

And yet… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed.

But I shake the thought off. This is how it should be.

Boundaries. Clarity. I’m here to take care of his daughter, not daydream about the way his voice sounds first thing in the morning.

At three o’clock sharp, I buckle Emily into her booster seat in the back of my Subaru and slide into the driver’s seat. She’s clutching a homemade paper crown she’d insisted on wearing out of the house, her little fingers adjusting it with all the seriousness of royalty.

“Ready to go to the library, Princess?” I ask, grinning at her in the rearview mirror.

She nods solemnly. “I want a dragon book. With sparkles.”

“Are you sure you don’t want fox books instead?”

She considers. “Yeah. That too.”

“Got it. Sparkly dragons and clever foxes or bust.”

The Silvercreek Library isn’t big, but it’s warm and inviting, with tall windows and shelves that smell like memory.

The rec class is set up in the kids’ corner—beanbags, picture books, a box of toy instruments, and a colorful carpet that looks like it’s hosted every toddler in town.

I spot the instructor arranging supplies near the low table.

Blonde ponytail. Athletic build. Familiar curve of the shoulders.

Lindsey Raines.

She turns just as I do a double take. Her eyes widen. “Oh my God, Ivy Walker?”

I smile. “Hey, Linds.”

She abandons her basket of glue sticks and comes in for a hug. It’s warm and genuine, and a little surreal.

“I didn’t know you were back,” she says. “What are you doing in town?”

“Just started working for Grant Carter, actually. Nannying.”

“No way. Mr. Grump himself?” She gives a mock shiver. “Brave soul.”

I laugh. “It’s… an adjustment.”

She glances down at Emily, who is already halfway through a pile of books. “She’s adorable. You’ve got your hands full, huh?”

“Not in a bad way,” I say. “She’s sweet.”

The class starts, and I sit back as Lindsey reads a picture book about a pirate bear with a map made of candy. Emily laughs at all the right moments, crown tilted rakishly on her curls. For a moment, I let myself relax, surrounded by storytime voices and the smell of crayons.

Afterward, Lindsey packs up and leans over to whisper, “You free tonight? Jason and I were gonna grab drinks at the Antler. You should come.”

Jason. Her high school sweetheart. Tall, goofy, always wore shirts with band logos.

“I miss that place,” I say, even though I’ve been there for only a few times. “I mean, is it still even open?”

“Still sticky floors and weird taxidermy,” she confirms. “But they’ve got karaoke now. I’ll text you.”

I glance at Emily, who’s now climbing into my lap like a sleepy kitten. “Yeah. Okay. I could use a night out.”

“Awesome. Seven o’clock. I’ll see you there.”

As I carry Emily back to the car, her arms wrapped tight around my neck, I feel something flutter in my chest. A second day on the job, and already the world is shifting—new rhythms, old friendships, and maybe, just maybe, a sense that I’m finding my place again.

By the time six o’clock rolls around, I’m almost disappointed to see Grant walk through the door.

Not because I don’t want to see him—maybe because I do . Or maybe because today felt peaceful, and I know that peace never lasts long around him.

He greets me with a polite nod, the same cool professionalism he wore this morning, like we’re strangers again. It’s probably for the best, I remind myself.

Still, something twists a little in my chest.

“Thanks again,” he says, shifting his keys in one hand.

“Of course.” I grab my bag, offer him a quick smile, and turn to Emily. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

Emily wraps her arms around my legs in a quick hug, and I ruffle her soft hair before heading out the door.

The air is cool as I drive home, windows cracked, music low. I tell myself to stop overthinking everything—especially Grant. I’ve got plans tonight. Normal, healthy, distraction-filled plans.

When I get home, Mom is chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter.

“I’m heading out,” I say, kicking off my shoes.

“Where to?”

“Meeting Lindsey at the Antler. She invited me for dinner and drinks.”

Mom’s brows rise. “The Antler? I didn’t think you kids were old enough to go there.”

I chuckle, recalling it was one of the places we weren’t supposed to be. “Apparently we do now.”

I hurry to my room and change out of my nanny clothes, slipping into a teal wrap dress I haven’t worn since last fall.

Putting on a white bolero shrug, I curl my hair, add a little makeup, and stare at my reflection in the mirror.

For once, I feel good—like myself, but polished.

Ready to feel like a woman again, not just the girl who came crawling back to her hometown.

I smile at my reflection. “Forget Grumpy Grant. Let’s go meet some hot strangers.”

The Antler is already buzzing when I pull into the parking lot just after seven. Inside, it smells like grilled meat and beer, and a country song is playing low beneath the hum of conversation. I spot Lindsey and Jason at a booth near the back, waving me over.

“Ivy Walker, in a pretty dress,” Lindsey says as I slide into the seat beside her. “I’m impressed.”

“You look amazing,” Jason adds. “Like, way better than the rest of us here.”

I laugh and shake my head, realizing that before I left for college, I’d always been more of a tomboy—dresses were never really my thing. “You guys are too nice.”

We order dinner—burgers, sweet potato fries, some crispy fried pickles to share. Lindsey gets a mojito, Jason orders a local IPA, and I go for a hard cider. It’s the most adult thing I’ve done in weeks.

“So,” Lindsey says between bites, “what have you been up to the last seven years?”

I grin. “Chaos, mostly. Went to school in Portland, then stayed for work. Junior designer at a tiny branding agency where I did everything but mop the floor.”

“Sounds familiar,” she says. “I was in Denver for a while, doing freelance copywriting. Moved back about two years ago. Got tired of the rent and the traffic.”

“Same. In my case, I just couldn’t take one more team meeting about artisanal deodorant.”

She snorts. “God. And the influencer economy.”

We laugh and reminisce—school dances, awkward prom dates, the teacher who called Lindsey by the wrong name for two years. The food is good, the drinks better, and for a while, it feels like we never left.

At some point, Jason slips an arm around Lindsey’s shoulders. I catch the glint of a thin silver ring on her finger—simple, elegant, and unmistakably an engagement ring.

“Wait—are you guys engaged?”

Lindsey smiles, brushing a fry through some ketchup. “Yeah. Kind of recent. He finally asked after, what, ten years?”

Jason smirks. “She finally said yes after moving back from Denver.”

“I needed to figure my life out first,” Lindsey says, bumping his arm. “Turns out he was still part of it.”

They both look so easy with each other, like time never even tried to pull them apart.

“Congratulations,” I say, truly happy for them.

And I am. But something twists in my chest as I watch them—comfortable, steady, sure of each other. I used to think I’d have that too, once.

With Nate.

We’d been together nearly two years—he was my boss at the agency in Portland, charming in the way successful creatives often are: sharp, magnetic, always just out of reach. I told myself we were building something—our careers, a life, maybe even a family.

And then he cheated. With a client.

Three weeks later, I was unemployed and unmoored, wondering how I could’ve been so wrong about someone I almost let rewrite my future.

Now, watching Lindsey and Jason laugh like they’ve never questioned each other, I feel the ache of wanting something like that. Something solid. But it still feels so far away—like someone else's dream I borrowed for a while and had to give back.

After dinner, Lindsey leans close. “You feel like singing, or are we dancing?”

Jason raises his hand. “I vote karaoke.”

I take another sip of cider and grin. “Why not both?”

They head off toward the tiny corner stage, already arguing over what duet to pick. I watch them go, warmth blooming in my chest. This is what I needed. A break. A night out. A reminder that there’s still a world beyond Grant Carter’s house and the complicated heat of his gaze.

I sit back in the booth, nursing my drink, and let myself enjoy the music and the hum of laughter around me.

The Antler hadn’t changed a bit. Same carved moose head above the jukebox, same crooked pool table in the corner.

I remember thinking it looked ancient when I was sixteen.

It still does. I’d been inside once or twice back then—never to drink, just tagging along while someone older ordered fries and a beer.

It was the place older kids talked about—the only “real” bar in town.

I’ve been to trendier bars in Portland. Flashier places with rooftop patios, curated playlists, drinks that cost half a paycheck. But somehow, this place feels warmer. Familiar, in a way I didn’t expect. The glow of amber lights. The hum of low conversation. The scent of grilled meat and beer.

I cradle my drink, still half full, and settle into the quiet of my booth. My eyes drift to the pool table in the corner where a couple of guys are arguing over a shot. I smile to myself, thinking how much and how little changes.

I feel warm and slip off my shrug, leaving just the dress. Sleeveless. Low cut. Bold. I feel good in it. Grown up. Like I’m allowed to take up space again.

And that’s when the door swings open, letting in a burst of cool night air.

Cole Carter walks in like the room’s waiting for him.

I freeze, my glass halfway to my lips. He hasn’t spotted me yet—his gaze scans the room as he adjusts the sleeves of a black button-down rolled up to his elbows.

It fits him too well to be accidental. His jeans are dark, clean, and his boots carry the same confident swagger he does.

His hair’s tousled like he just ran a hand through it, and he looks exactly like the kind of trouble my mother once warned me about.

And then he sees me.

His gaze locks on mine, and that easy grin spreads across his face.

Too late to pretend I didn’t see him.

He heads straight for my table, cutting through the crowd with ease. My heart ticks faster with every step he takes. When he stops in front of me, I glance up and forget how to speak for a second.

“Hey, Ivy,” he says, his voice low and warm. “Mind if I join you?”

I blink. “Uh—no. I mean, yes. I mean, of course.”

I start to stand without thinking—some old reflex from polite family dinners and awkward prom dates.

That’s probably when he sees the full dress, because his smile curves a little more, “Nice dress.” He says and slides into the booth across from me, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Didn’t expect to run into my brother’s new nanny looking like she just stepped out of a magazine.”

I roll my eyes and take a sip of my drink, hoping it cools the sudden heat in my cheeks. “Didn’t expect to run into my boss’s brother at my favorite high school hangout.”

He grins wider. “Touche.”