Page 45 of Nine Week Nanny

I blink hard and use all of my might to crush the thought. Focus on the logistics of tomorrow's meetings.

We step out, the salt air washing over us. She settles into one of the gliders, with the monitor balanced on her knee.

I'm grateful for her competence, for the way she's stepped into this chaos with Lennon that I have absolutely no business handling. What was I thinking, agreeing to guardianship? A child needs stability, routine, things I've never provided anyone.

I'm grateful that Sloane is the one here to make it all work.

"About that nature program you mentioned at lunch." I lean back, watching her expression shift from surprise to cautious interest. "I called Camila this afternoon."

"You did?" Sloane's fingers tighten around her wineglass.

"She spoke with the director at Seabreeze. Of course, she asked all the questions I didn't think to ask." The ocean breeze lifts a strand of hair from her forehead.

“Wonderful.”

“She was impressed with the intimate program and how they teach healing through caring for something else."

Sloane sits straighter. "It really is a wonderful way to help children work through things they can't understand at a young age."

"I appreciate you taking the initiative of finding it."

"So, does that mean y'all agree to give it a try for Lennon?"

"Lennon's enrolled for the rest of this week. He starts tomorrow, twelve-thirty to four-thirty, and then we will evaluate if we want to continue it."

Her smile breaks across her face like sunrise. "That's fantastic. He'll do so well there."

"You found a good option." I take a slow sip of my water, letting the admission settle between us. "Better than what I came up with."

The glider creaks as it rocks forward. "I'm glad you reconsidered."

"Camila did most of the convincing. She knows what he needs."

Sloane's legs curl under her, the monitor balanced on the arm of her chair. "I can handle drop-off and pick-up. It's only ten minutes away."

“Lenoir, my assistant, will add you to the Tahoe insurance tomorrow morning. Use that instead of your car. Saves you gas, mileage."

"I don't mind using my own car."

"I mind." The words come out firmer than intended. “I bought that vehicle for precisely this reason. There is a gas card in the center console.”

She nods, tension easing from her shoulders. "I appreciate that."

“The paperwork with authorized pickup names will be on my desk by morning. You, me, Camila, and I will add the weekend nanny if we ever need a backup. I’d like you to take it when you drop him off.”

She nods, then hesitates. “I’ve been thinking about transitions. I can imagine they will be tough for him, at least to start. I might try a two-song entry plan for drop-off, using the same playlist every day. It creates predictability. I’ll share with the other nanny if she ever does pick up.”

“Smart,” I say. And it is.

Our smiles catch and hold across the counter. For a second, it feels like more than logistics. Like we’ve taken some of the edge off of our interactions. Professional, sure, but something warmer hums underneath.

Her smile lingers, mine answers, stretching the silence too long.

My gaze drops to her mouth. Memory ambushes me—her taste, her sounds, the way her tongue slid against mine.

My hand tightens around the glass, knuckles straining white. My dick hasn’t gotten the clue that she’s my employee now.

She breaks the silence first. Her voice is low and careful. “One more thing. I hope I'm not being too forward, but I've been careful to listen for how Lennon addresses you, and I've missed it so far. So that I know how to refer to you in front of him, does he call you Daddy, or Papa, or….”