Page 13

YOU’RE HIRED

Sabrina

I’m skating backward in a circle, leading Luna and her friend Mia through a warmup drill, but my mind keeps wandering.

Tyler’s nanny problem isn’t technically mine, but I can’t help brainstorming.

A few women I worked with at Glacé might be interested.

Or maybe that sweet guy from my sewing club who graduated from cat-sitting to babysitting.

I’d like to help Tyler. After all, the man helped me out in a big way back in June. This would be a real chance to pay him back.

“Okay, you two!” I clap my hands. “Switch to one-foot glides. Remember, strong knee bend!”

The kids follow along. Luna nails it immediately—of course she does; she’s a natural—while Mia sneaks a glance at her friend and tries harder. I skate up beside her.

“Arms out in front for balance, like you’re holding a beach ball,” I say .

Her face scrunches in determination, and this time, she glides farther before wobbling.

“Got it!” she says, grinning.

“That’s right! You sure did!” I high-five her.

When the lesson wraps up, I skate with the girls toward the bleachers, where Tyler’s mom is waiting. Lauren Falcon is warm, friendly, and a huge fan of Isla’s dating advice podcast, which has given us plenty to bond over the few times I’ve seen her.

“Sabrina!” she calls, waving me over. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” I slide to the edge of the ice, adjusting my ponytail.

She sends the three kids off to the arcade, then turns to me with a focused look that’s a little…

intense. Tension curls inside me. Did I mess something up?

Don’t know what I did, but it’s probably something.

I spent my entire childhood in trouble for one thing or another.

Writing down the things I needed to work on.

The routines I had to improve. The jumps I wanted to nail. The choreography that had to be better.

I created a running list of things not to do again so I wouldn’t get in trouble. Images of stacks of journals lining my bookshelves flash before me, but I blink them away. This is not that .

“I have to say, you’re incredible with them. Luna and Mia adore you, and I can see why.”

I relax, caught off guard but delighted. “Thank you. They’re great kids. It’s easy when they’re so eager to learn.”

Lauren nods, her smile shifting into something sharper. “They are. And I’ve been thinking—Tyler’s struggling to find a new nanny for Luna and her brother, Parker. I’ve been helping out, but I can’t keep it up once hockey season starts.”

“Of course. You’ve got your hands full with your own kids.” And by “kids,” I mean her four rescue Chihuahuas, whom she lovingly refers to as her children.

“I do. And Harvey and I want to travel. New York. London. I hear the new production of Crash the Moon is supposed to be amazing. Seeing musicals all over the world was always a goal of mine.”

“You should absolutely do that,” I say, still unsure where this is headed but willing to support her dream.

She nods again, her expression turning serious.

“Watching you with the girls…you have a gift, Sabrina. You’re patient, creative, and you actually seem to enjoy it,” she says, and her praise makes me feel like a flower in the sun.

I soak it up. “Would you consider a different but adjacent kind of role—something with a guarantee for several months?”

I furrow my brow. “What do you have in mind?”

“Tyler needs someone he can trust, and I can’t think of anyone better.

You’d have a garden apartment with a separate entrance, so you’d keep your independence.

And Tyler’s flexible with the hours—he knows how important your coaching is.

So he’d work with you around your existing and future schedule at the rink. ”

Wait a minute. She’s offering me the nanny job? “I’ve never nannied,” I say slowly, still trying to process this curveball.

She waves a hand. “You’re great with kids, you’re reliable, and you clearly care. That’s what matters. We’re thinking the job would be for the hockey season for now, and then we’ll see what we need for the summer. But we can pay for a full year. So, what do you think?”

I think I’d be less surprised if my father called to say he was proud of me. But also? Living on Tyler’s property? Working for the man I begged to sleep with on what was supposed to be my wedding night?

My brain scrambles, conjuring awkward images of us bumping into each other in the kitchen, both trying not to remember how I threw myself at him, begging him to do un-St. Bernard-like things to me.

“That’s…a lot to think about,” I manage to say, my voice even despite the storm of awkwardness brewing inside me.

“He’s completely on board,” Lauren says, correctly reading my hesitation. “He told me to make it work if I found the right person. And Sabrina—you are the right person.”

I’ve wandered into an alternate reality. And then Lauren says a number—a big number—that makes me question if I’ve stepped into someone else’s life entirely.

I grab the boards for support. That’s more than I’ve ever made.

Enough to market my coaching business more.

Add clinics. Connect with additional schools.

Reach other kids who want to learn and grow in ice skating, the best sport there is.

Enough to actually save money instead of constantly scraping by.

Plus, a steady job. A real place to live. No more juggling side gigs or showering at the gym. Maybe I could even afford to see my therapist, Elena, again. But could I really work so close to Tyler without melting into a puddle of lust? The man just exudes hot capableness in a beard and big body.

“I’ll need some time to think about it,” I say carefully, trying to erase thoughts of this woman’s sexy son from my head.

Do not lust after her son in her presence.

“Of course.” Her smile softens. “But I hope you’ll say yes. You’re exactly what Tyler and the kids need.”

As she gathers the children, the weight of the decision presses on me. Turning this down would be a mistake. But living that close to Tyler might be asking for trouble.

Time. I need time.

Except...did I overthink Chad’s cheating? Nope. I handed over the MP3 and marched down the aisle .

And I won’t overthink this either. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for—and the money I need to finally make it on my own. I am strong. I can commit to this like I’ve committed to practice my entire life.

Just don’t sleep with your boss.

How hard can it be?

I jam on my skate guards and catch up to her. “I’m in.”

She beams. “Can you start next week?”

There’s only one answer.

“Yes.”

And honestly? No more garlic is reason enough.