Page 50 of Nine Week Nanny

A couple settles into chairs at the far end of the pool, their voices a distant hum beneath the sound of splashing water.

"He could've just hired someone and stayed uninvolved," I continue. "But he's trying. This morning, before he left for a meeting at the hospital, he sat through an episode of that cartoon Lennon likes, asking questions about the characters."

"Mmm-hmm." I can practically see Maris's knowing smile. "You realize you sound a little smitten, right?"

Heat crawls up my neck that has nothing to do with the Florida sun. "I am not smitten. I'm just observing the situation professionally. This is what I went to grad school for, after all."

"Professional observation includes noticing how he watches cartoons?"

"It's relevant to Lennon's adjustment." My protest sounds weak even to my own ears.

"If you say so, honey."

"I'm serious, Mar. I'm focused on the kid, not his ridiculously attractive guardian who apparently has a hidden heart of gold." I close my eyes, mentally kicking myself.

"Uh-huh. Okay."

"That came out wrong."

"Did it, though?" Maris laughs. "Just be careful, Sloane. I know that look in your voice."

"That's not a thing."

But I can't ignore the flutter in my chest when I think about Pope stepping up for Lennon when he needed someone. The hard edges I first saw in him soften under this new light, making him even more dangerous to my resolve.

"I should go," I say, checking the time. "I need to pick up Lennon soon."

"Call me later with more not-smitten observations."

“LYLAS.”

I hang up and stare at the rippling water, unsettled by how quickly my perspective has shifted, and how much harder it will be to keep my distance.

I didn't even tell her he will be working from home for the next couple of weeks.

Shit. I'm in trouble.

The afternoon sunbeats down on the car, turning it into an oven despite the shade I found under a gnarled palm tree. I crack the windows to let in what passes for a breeze, but all that enters is humid air thick with the steady buzz of cicadas.

My phone shows 4:17. Thirteen minutes until pick-up time.

I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, wondering if Lennon had a good day or if he spent it withdrawn in a corner. Did he eat his snack? Did he miss home? Did the other kids?—

The doors to Seabreeze burst open, and a small figure rockets out ahead of the orderly line forming behind him.

It's Lennon, running and smiling. His backpack bounces wildly as he scans the parking lot, spots the SUV, and sprints toward me.

I pop out of the car to wave, and his face lights up with a smile I haven't seen before.

He yanks open the back door and scrambles in, barely waiting for me to help with his seatbelt before the words tumble out.

"We saw a horseshoe crab! A real one! Dr. Maya let us touch it!"

His eyes are wide while his hands make a circular shape in the air. "It was like this big, and the shell was hard but not scary-hard, and it had this long pointy tail thing that doesn't actually sting you even though it looks super sharp!"

I blink, startled by the sudden rush of words from a child who's barely strung together three sentences in my presence until now.

"That sounds amazing," I manage, adjusting the rearview mirror to see his animated face better.