Page 14 of Nanny for Grumpy Grant (Shared by the Carter Brothers #1)

COLE

“ T ouché,” I say, grinning at her across the table.

She’s trying to play it cool, sipping her drink like she’s not blushing halfway down her neck. But I see it—the flicker of nerves, the curiosity, the guarded spark in her eyes that wasn’t there yesterday when I stopped by Grant’s place.

The girl’s changed. Grown up. And I’m not just talking about the dress, though damn— that dress.

It’s simple, nothing flashy—soft blue cotton that hugs her waist and dips just enough at the collar to make a man forget how to breathe.

Her legs are crossed beneath the table, and the hem hits just above the knee, teasing more than it shows.

It’s the kind of dress that doesn’t try too hard, and maybe that’s what makes it so damn effective.

“I always figured you were a jeans-and-boots kind of girl,” I say, resting my forearms on the table, casual. “Didn’t realize you could also pull off… whatever this is.”

She snorts. “That’s not a compliment, Cole.”

“It is,” I say, lips quirking. “A very stunned, honest one.”

She laughs—finally, a real one—and rolls her eyes again. But there’s a tiny smile she doesn’t bother hiding.

“Seriously though,” I add, “you look good. Different. Confident.”

“Different as in older?” she teases, lifting a brow.

"Different as in… I should probably send your parents an apology letter.” I pause and grin at her puzzled face. "For thinking the things I’m thinking right now."

Her eyes narrow, amused. “You’re impossible.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t miss me just a little.”

“I barely saw you growing up. You were always off doing—whatever Carter boys do.”

“Mostly getting into trouble,” I admit. “Or trying to keep Grant from turning into a complete hermit. Which… clearly didn’t work.”

That earns me a smirk and a nod. “You’re not wrong.”

The waitress comes by, and we both glance at the menu. Ivy orders another drink, and I go for wings and a beer.

“Let me guess,” I say as the waitress walks off. “First night out in a while?”

“First time I’ve worn mascara in a year,” she says with a self-deprecating smile. “Does that answer your question?”

“Loud and clear.”

She leans back, arms crossing loosely. “And what about you? You come here often, or just when you’re stalking nannies?”

I chuckle. “Guilty as charged. Nah, I swing by every so often. Grab a drink, shoot darts. Sometimes run into half my graduating class and get guilt-tripped about being single.”

She hums, eyes flicking toward the bar. “The place hasn’t changed much.”

“Nope. Same moose head. Same jukebox. Same pool table with one leg shorter than the others.”

“Exactly. I remember ding here a few times,” she says, grinning. “Back then, I thought this place was glamorous.”

“And now?”

She shrugs. “Still kind of is. In a weird, sticky-floor, don’t-look-too-closely-at-the-bathroom kind of way.”

I laugh. She’s funny, sharp. And easy to talk to, which I didn’t expect—not like this.

“So,” I say, tapping a finger against my glass. “Still surviving your stint as Emily’s nanny? Or has Grumpy Grant scared you off yet?”

She hesitates, then answers carefully. “It’s fine. Emily’s sweet.”

“And Grant?”

“Grant is… professional.”

I raise a brow. “That’s a hell of a word choice.”

She gives a tight smile. “It’s not a complaint. Just an observation.”

I don’t press her, even though I’m itching to. I know Grant—he’s a good guy under the concrete exterior, but damn if he doesn’t make people work to see it. Especially someone like Ivy, who clearly doesn’t fall for bullshit.

And what the hell happened between the two of them? I think back to how extra-grumpy Grant was at work today and nearly blurt out the question.

The waitress returns with my food, and I dig in, the conversation meandering from old high school stories to her time in Portland.

She tells me about her job—how it was a mess of too many responsibilities, fake clients, and unpaid invoices. How she burned out and left.

“I just needed to breathe,” she says, chewing slowly. “Coming home was supposed to be temporary, but… I don’t know. Maybe I needed this more than I thought.”

I nod. “Silvercreek has a way of anchoring people.”

She glances at me. “Is that what happened to you?”

I grin. “Something like that.”

Before I can say more, Lindsey and Jason return from the dance floor, flushed and smiling.

“Hey, Cole!” Jason claps my back. “How’s it going?”

I nod. “Good to see you.”

We exchange hellos, small talk starts to bubble up, and soon enough we’re all laughing over stories from high school. Lindsey drags Jason toward the dartboard, and with a surprisingly firm grip, she pulls Ivy along too.

We play a couple of rounds—Jason’s hopeless, Lindsey’s a menace, Ivy’s surprisingly good, and I mostly just enjoy the way her eyes light up when she hits the bullseye.

The game and the drinks loosen her up. Her laugh rings out, free and unguarded, and when we wander back to our table, she’s all warmth and energy.

“I haven’t laughed this much in ages,” she says, breathless as she settles into her seat.

“Silvercreek isn’t all bad, huh?” I ask, tipping my glass toward her.

She rolls her eyes but smiles. “Still plenty bad. Just… less bad tonight.”

She takes a sip, then goes quiet for a second. I see the shift in her, the way people do when something heavy’s bubbling up. She opens her mouth to speak, and then sighs and sips her drink instead.

“Hey,” I say. “You’ve got something to say, I’m listening.”

“I like two guys,” she blurts.

What? That’s a stunt. For a second, I just blink and don’t know what to say. “Oh?”

She groans. “God, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No judgment,” I say, setting my glass down and leaning forward. “Are they at least good guys?”

“They’re… complicated. One’s practically a brother to me. The other’s my boss.”

My mouth tightens slightly. Caleb and Grant. No need to guess. Damn them.

I nod, slow. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. It does.” She rests her chin on her hand and sighs. “It’s like I came home to reset my life and just… walked into a mess.”

“Well,” I say, swallowing my irritation, “for what it’s worth, I’m not your boss. And I’m definitely not your brother.”

Her eyes flick to mine, startled.

“I’m just saying,” I continue. “If the other options are too complicated… I’m right here.”

She laughs, a bit breathless. “But you are … You are Cole Carter.”

“So?” I say, pretending I don’t know what comes next.

“You know, my mom warned me about you when I was fifteen.”

“Did she now?” I feign outrage.

“She told me to stay away from the Carter boy with cocky smiles.”

“Sounds like solid parenting advice.” I grin. “Shame you didn’t listen.”

And when she laughs again—this time without holding back—I know one thing for sure: This girl? She’s worth every complication.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. “Your mom was right, you know.”

Her brows lift. “You think so?”

I sigh, letting the words settle on my tongue before saying them. “Yup. I haven’t exactly built myself a great reputation.”

She studies me now, her teasing edge gone. “You mean the whole town heartbreaker thing?”

“Yeah.” I nod slowly. “It’s not like I’ve tried to be one, but…

I’ve dated a lot. Nothing serious ever stuck.

Not because I didn’t want it to. But the girls I went out with—most of them never really gave it a chance.

I’d hear later their moms warned them off me. Said I wasn’t the type to settle down.”

There’s a beat of silence. I expect her to laugh it off, maybe make a quip about her own mother’s warning, but instead, she reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers.

The gesture’s simple, but it hits me harder than I expect.

I look down at our hands, then turn mine to hold hers properly. My other hand slides over the top, warm and sure. Her thumb brushes mine. The noise of the bar fades for a second.

Then—Lindsey and Jason’s laughter breaks through as they come back, glowing from whatever ridiculous game they just won.

I let go reluctantly as Ivy pulls back with a small, apologetic smile.

“They’re heading out,” she says softly.

I nod, pushing out of the booth. “Yeah. We should too.”

A second later, Lindsey leans over the booth. “We’re gonna take off,” she says, all flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “You two staying longer?”

Ivy shakes her head. “I think we’re heading out too.”

Jason claps me on the shoulder as he passes. “Drive safe, man.”

“Always,” I say, standing.

We all shuffle toward the door together, that familiar, reluctant end-of-the-night energy hanging in the air. Lindsey suggests a next time, and Ivy agrees.

Outside in the parking lot, the air’s crisp. Ivy waves goodbye to Lindsey and Jason, and I offer a chin-lift to Jason, who gives me a knowing smirk.

Ivy’s parked in the private lot on the side of the building, away from the streetlights and bar glow. I walk her there, steps falling into rhythm beside hers.

When we reach her car, she doesn’t open the door right away.

She lingers.

So do I.

Her hair catches in the breeze, and I tuck a strand behind her ear. She tilts her head up, lips parted, eyes searching mine.

And then I kiss her.

Her breath hitches as I pull her in, arms sliding around her waist. Her hands fist into my shirt, her body soft against mine. The kiss is slow at first, like we’re tasting something we didn’t know we were starving for. Then it deepens—urgent, heady, real.

When we finally come up for air, her eyes are glassy with something wild and new.

I lean in close to her ear. “Come home with me?”

She hesitates for only a heartbeat.

Then she nods. “Yes.”

“Let’s use my car. I’ll drive you back later.”

“Okay.”

We make a beeline for my Jeep.

I open the passenger door and help her in, hand lingering just a second too long at her back before I circle to the driver’s side.

Tonight, the girl I couldn’t stop thinking about is in my Jeep. And I don’t plan on letting her go.