Page 18 of Nanny for Grumpy Grant (Shared by the Carter Brothers #1)

As the Bentley rolled smoothly along the winding coastal road in Northern California, my eyes greedily drank in the ocean view before me.

The Pacific stretched to the edge of the world, its blue waters merging seamlessly with the even bluer sky. Over the years, whenever I remembered this scenery, I felt a mixture of joy and longing.

I closed my eyes, recalling fragments of cherished memories: lying on the sandy beach, flanked by two lanky boys; swimming in the ocean, racing with those same boys.

Landon and Tyler.

My heart warmed at the memory of their handsome, boyish faces.

Tyler had dark hair and intense blue eyes.

Landon’s hair was brown, and his eyes were lighter—almost gray.

The two were twins, though not identical.

Landon was born two minutes before Tyler and never let his brother forget it.

I smiled at the thought. They were the sweetest boys I’d ever known.

Even when they teased me to tears, they always made me laugh in the end.

I wasn’t a needy girl. I had survived the past few years on my own.

But when I lived with the Swansons, I’d been fragile.

My parents died in a car accident when I was twelve, and I had no close relatives.

My maternal grandfather might still be alive, but my mom had cut ties with him decades ago, after he abandoned her and my grandmother.

So, I was placed into foster care before eventually being adopted by the Swansons. Despite how things ended, I was grateful for the love and care they gave me during the three years I lived with them.

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize the car had stopped in front of the property gate.

The place hadn’t changed much. The juniper trees flanking the gate were trimmed to the same height and shape, though they were now denser and fuller.

My heart leapt with joy at the familiar sight, and for a moment, I felt like a twelve-year-old girl again, about to meet her new family for the first time.

"Wow, the place looks exactly the same as I remember," I said to James, the chauffeur, who’d started working for the family two years after I left. I was gazing at the vast lawn beside the driveway—the oak tree, the fountain, the chaise lounges where Mr. and Mrs. Swanson used to sit on weekends.

I remembered then that Mr. Swanson had passed away a few years ago.

The news had saddened me when Helen mentioned it in her message.

He may have been strict and aloof, but he was kind.

Even though he insisted I leave their house, I couldn’t help but suspect that the special treatment I received at the group home afterward had something to do with him.

"Yep. Mrs. Swanson likes to keep things the way they are," James said.

"That’s wonderful," I replied, touched by Helen’s consistency.

I’d loved Helen from the moment we met at the adoption agency. I still remembered the sympathetic look on her face when she pulled me into a hug.

We reconnected just two months ago when she tracked me down on social media. She invited me to Ruth’s wedding—her other adopted daughter.

I said yes and took a week off work.

A housemaid greeted me as soon as I stepped out of the car and led me inside.

"Have a seat. Mrs. Swanson will be with you in just a moment," she said, gesturing to the sofa.

"Okay." I sat down and glanced around. The house’s interior hadn’t changed much either.

Despite the familiar furniture, everything felt different. I didn’t recognize anyone in the household. I felt a little disappointed. I’d hoped to relive the best three years of my life when I accepted Helen’s invitation.

Silly , I chided myself. Of course things had changed. It’s been ten years!

Footsteps pulled me from my thoughts, and I straightened in my seat, eyes darting to the stairwell.

I expected to see Helen, but instead, a tall man with dark hair appeared. He looked strikingly like Mike Swanson as I remembered him—only younger and much more muscular.

I stood up as the man slowed his steps.

As he walked toward me, his bright blue eyes fixed on mine, his smile widening with each step, my heart pounded with recognition.

"Landon!" My voice came out strangely squeaky, thanks to the lump in my throat.

"Anna!" Landon’s voice was low and rumbling, and it surprised me.

In my memories, Landon had always been tall, but now he was broad-shouldered and strong. With that deep voice, he was fully a man—an extremely attractive one. Suddenly, I remembered those stormy nights when he’d held me in his arms.

My thighs tingled with an unfamiliar sensation. I was twenty-five now. I’d had boyfriends—but I’d never felt this way about any of them.

It must’ve been nostalgia. Or maybe the deep affection I’d always felt for him.

I was still staring like a starstruck teenager when Landon pulled me into a bear hug.

Oh God. Those firm abs. Those muscular biceps.

I froze for a second, then melted into the embrace, not wanting to leave the safe harbor of his arms.

"It’s so good to see you again," he said, pulling back slightly. His eyes roamed over me with the same curiosity I’d had toward him. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good," I replied, smiling.

He raised his eyebrows. "Mom says you’re a landscape designer."

"Yes, I am," I said proudly. "I design gardens."

"That’s wonderful. I remember how much time you spent in Mom’s garden."

That little detail warmed my heart. Landon had always been thoughtful, but I hadn’t expected him to remember something so specific.

We hadn’t really kept in touch. For the first month after I left, I’d text or call the twins to tell them about life at the group home. But then they started college, our communication slowed, and eventually, it stopped.

"What about you? I assume you and Tyler have taken over the family business?" I asked. The Swansons owned a real estate development firm in the Bay Area.

"Just me," he said after a pause. "Tyler’s not interested."

"Oh? What does he do?"

"He’s a surfer."

I gasped, remembering Tyler’s love for the sport. "A surfer? You mean… professionally?"

Landon shrugged with little enthusiasm. "I guess. He won a few competitions and started a surfing school right here."

"Wow. That's so cool," I said. I had always known Tyler would be an athlete one day, although his dad made him major in business in college, just like Landon.

"Yep." Landon's smile seemed forced, but he didn't offer further comments.

We fell into an awkward silence until footsteps—and then the voice of Mrs. Swanson—drew our attention.

"Anna! My goodness!" my once-adoptive mother exclaimed as she appeared before me, looking me up and down before pulling me into her arms.

Helen Swanson was now in her late sixties—an elegant blonde woman with porcelain skin and striking blue eyes.

"Hi, Helen. How are you?"

I loved this woman. She was as kind as she was beautiful. I remembered how she had pleaded with her husband not to send me away, despite the bracelet incident. I was thrilled when I received a friend request from her on Facebook two months ago.

"You're even prettier than I remember," Helen said with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Helen," I replied. "You haven’t changed. You look just the way I remember."

"I'm so glad you're here. Ruth's looking forward to seeing you—she and Rob will be here for dinner."

"Wonderful," I said. Rob must be Ruth’s fiancé.

We chatted briefly about my flight, and then Landon reached for my suitcase.

"Let me take you upstairs to your room."

"Oh, I’ve got it," I said. "It’s a small suitcase—it’s not heavy at all."

"Nonsense," he said, insisting.

I excused myself from Helen and followed Landon up the stairs.

When he opened the door to the same room I used to stay in, my heart squeezed. It looked nearly the same—the familiar wallpaper with pink flowers still adorned the walls.

"Wow," I whispered. "It feels just like the old days. I haven’t seen wallpaper like this in any other place I’ve lived."

Landon chuckled. "I know. Mom loves it. And by the way—no one’s lived here since you left."

I wasn’t surprised. The house had many bedrooms, and they also had a detached guesthouse.

I placed my suitcase in the closet and sat on the bed, feeling a wave of nostalgia. Memories of my time in the room swarmed my head. I took a deep breath, steadying myself before I got too sentimental.

"Do you and Tyler still live here?" I asked.

"Nope. Tyler moved into the guesthouse, and I live in the new house now."

"New house?"

"Yeah. Remember the hill we used to fly kites on? Dad built a house on top of it."

"Oh. Are you married or something?"

"No!" He laughed. "I don’t even have a girlfriend. It’s just more convenient—and it has a better view. Closer to the ocean, too."

I wondered why Tyler wasn’t living with him. They used to be inseparable. But I decided not to ask.

We chatted a while longer until Landon excused himself. "I have to join a Zoom meeting at my house," he said. "I’ll be back for dinner. You’ve got a few hours to kill. You can find Tyler at the beach."

"Okay, thanks. I’ll do that. See you at dinner."

After unpacking, I set off for the beach, just a few yards from the Swansons' property. Strolling along the sand, I was surprised to see quite a few surfers out. The Swansons didn’t own the beach, but when I’d lived here, it had always felt private—non-residents rarely came to this part of the coastline.

Aside from that, the place felt unchanged. The sea was still boundless, the sky immense. It was mid-July, and over a hundred degrees in Vegas when I left this morning—but here, the air was cool enough to make me shiver in my sundress. I wished I’d brought a jacket.