Page 18 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

HANNAH

“I spilled soda on my shirt,” I tell Ollie, my heart still racing, very aware of Travis standing inches away from me. “So your dad let me borrow one, and the glitter got all over everything , not just us.”

“Really?” Ollie says, perking up. “Was it rainbow glitter?”

“Yes. And you and I are going to clean it up tomorrow afternoon. I promised your dad.”

I can practically feel Travis rolling his eyes at me, because there’s no way that man will leave all this glitter sitting around in his living room until I report to work. But when I glance at him, he’s watching me in a different way, and I have to break our stare-off.

He looks… hungry . He’s wild tonight—Travis the drummer, not Travis the domesticated single dad—and my body wants more of him.

No one’s kissed me like that for a very long time.

Maybe ever. And I could feel him against me when he backed me into that wall, so hard and needy and big.

But I know without asking that he regrets what happened.

He’s obviously going to tell me it can never happen again. Knowing him, he’ll even apologize .

Which sucks, but it’s probably for the best.

I made promises, too, after all.

Ollie says something I don’t register, then shakes my arm. “Hannah, can I see the glitter?”

“No, Ollie,” Travis says. “It’s getting late. Hannah’s probably ready to go home.”

I dart an annoyed look at him. I don’t want Ollie to think I’m in a hurry to get away from him.

“No,” I insist. “In fact, why don’t you go ahead and shower that glitter off, Travis. I’ll get Ollie to bed, and then we can catch up. There are a few things I wanted to talk about.”

Travis gives me a hangdog look, as if he thinks I’m going to beat him over the head for daring to kiss me, even though I basically threw myself at him.

“About Ollie’s school,” I add. “I would have mentioned it earlier if not for…” I make a sweeping gesture to indicate the glitter bomb, the call with Lilah, and the kiss.

Although to call it a kiss would be doing it a disservice.

He ravaged me with his mouth. Undid me with his lips. Rewrote desire with his tongue. He…

Travis runs a hand through his hair, a few flecks of glitter flying off. He forces a smile and nods. “Yeah, sure. That would be great.”

I lead Ollie out, leaving Travis in the music room, and smile as I notice a trail of glitter leading back toward the living room.

“It’s like in Hansel and Gretel,” I say, pointing it out to Ollie.

“What do you want to talk to Travis about?” he asks, giving me a sidelong look. “Are you going to tell him I got in trouble for calling Mickey the s-word?”

“What’s the s-word, anyway? I meant to ask you earlier.”

“Stupid,” he says warily like he thinks I might fly off the handle.

I almost laugh. I’d figured he’d called him a shithead or something, especially since his teacher, Mrs. Applebottom, had made such a stink about it when I picked him up earlier.

Which is something I do need to talk to Travis about, because it seems like this feud with Mickey should probably be addressed sooner rather than later.

Ollie is also bored and under stimulated by school, but I know that’s something Travis has been working on with Mrs. Applebottom.

I force myself to look stern. “We shouldn’t call people stupid, even if they are. They tend not to respond well.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But if you tell Travis, make sure you mention Mickey called me a sewer rat first.”

“It’ll be more of a general conversation,” I say, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

I steer him into his room, but he still seems wide awake after he climbs into bed.

“Want me to sit with you for a minute?” I ask.

“Yeah, can you rub my back?”

My heart swells as I settle in beside him and start rubbing his little back. I start humming and then singing, and when his breathing evens out, I kiss the side of his head and leave the room.

Travis’s bedroom door is open a crack, so I stop beside it. I hear the pattering of water in his shower.

An aching awareness settles between my legs. He’s in there naked. The water is pounding down on him, his body bared to the tiles and shower stall. Will he touch himself after what we did in the music room? Is he running his hand over himself right now, thinking about me?

I stand in the doorway, well aware that I should go sit in the living room like a normal person, but not quite able to move.

Then the shower switches off, and I still don’t move. I’m waiting. For what, I don’t know…un til it happens.

Travis opens the door and leaves the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist, revealing the vee of muscles leading down to an area I’ve grown very curious about.

His hair is a wet tumble, his eyes dark and determined—until they land on me.

For a long moment, we just stare at each other, and then he straightens. In a voice that’s full of authority, even though he’s wearing nothing but a towel, he says, “You can wait for me in the living room, Hannah.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Yes, sir .”

The dark look on his face says he doesn’t appreciate me flirting with him right now. Fair enough. I’m teasing myself too.

I return to the living room, which is infested with glitter. The vacuum would risk waking Ollie again, but I feel a little guilty about the joke now, so I grab the broom from the kitchen to sweep up the worst of it.

I’m about to load up a second dustpan with glitter when I hear Travis emerging from the back hall. He approaches me and gently removes the broom from my hands. I take in his damp, toweled-off hair, the fresh smell of him, and the T-shirt he has on, which matches mine.

“I was trying to help,” I say, suddenly feeling short of breath.

“Please don’t feel like you need to help with any of the housework.” He smiles at me, but his eyes are dark and unreadable.

“Something tells me you’re not saying that because you value and respect me so much as a nanny.”

“You’re pushing the glitter into the rug,” he says, “but yes, I do value and respect you. Even though I will absolutely lose it if you bring another glitter bomb into this house. Actually, I’m instituting a no-glitter-ever-for-any-reason rule.”

“That’s fair. ”

He props the broom against the coffee table and gestures to the sofa. “Let’s sit for a minute.”

I sit first, and I notice he settles onto the other end of the sofa—a far cry from the other night when we were snuggled under that blanket together.

He gives me a long look and then says, “I’m sorry, Hannah. That was beyond inappropriate. I don’t know what got into me. I’d understand if you don’t want to work here anymore, but I’m begging you to stay. Ollie needs you.”

I scoff, “ I know what got into you. It got into me too. And I don’t regret kissing you. It was good.”

“It was better than good,” he says darkly, as if he resents that truth. “But it can’t happen again. I’ve taken enough from my son.”

I’m tempted to press him on that. He hasn’t taken anything from Ollie. If anything, he hasn’t given Ollie enough of himself. So much of Travis is tucked away, hidden in a lockbox no one’s given access to, Ollie included. But I know he wouldn’t appreciate it if I told him that.

Instead, I say, “You’re right. It shouldn’t happen again. Because of Ollie, and also because you and Rob are friends. I won’t let things get weird with Sophie.”

He surprises me by smiling, although there’s a sharp edge to it. “If you can get over the fact that you both slept with that dumbass Jonah, then you could probably get over anything.”

“Does it bother you that I slept with Rob’s brother?” I ask with interest.

“I just don’t like him,” he says. “I’ve never liked him. He’s a little shithead.”

The firm set to his jaw suggests otherwise. He is jealous, and I like that he’s jealous, which isn’t usual for me. But I can tell his emotions are already like a poorly bandaged scab, so I’m not going to pick at them any more tonight .

“You can’t go into my room anymore,” he says. “We need to set that boundary.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Okay, boss man. You did leave the door open. I thought you wanted me to see you in that towel, and I can’t say I minded. You must work hard for those muscles. It would be a pity not to let people see them.”

“Hannah,” he groans. “You’re killing me.” He rakes his hands through his hair, looking like he means what he’s saying.

“I really did want to talk about Ollie’s school stuff,” I say.

He nods, and I launch into the whole s-word, sewer rat story. I finish by saying, “So we should probably do something about this situation before they get into some kind of kiddie cage match.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m bringing donuts to Ollie’s classroom on Friday morning.

When I asked Mrs. Applebaum, she acted like I’d suggested bringing crack cocaine for them to share before morning circle.

” He twists his mouth to the side. “I don’t think she likes any of us.

She refers to you as ‘the young lady’ in a disapproving tone. ”

“Wait. Her last name’s Applebaum?” I ask, laughing. “I’ve been calling her Mrs. Applebottom since she asked to speak to me last Tuesday. No wonder she hates us.”

The school has pickup and drop-off in the auditorium, but Ollie’s teacher has asked to talk to me a couple of times after some “unfortunate incidents.”

He laughs, and some of the tension seems to lift from his shoulders. “You know, she actually reminds me of the nanny I had growing up.”

“Oh, you poor thing.”

His lips tip into a smile. “Nanny Grace used to say ‘back in my day’ every five words. And whenever I talked back, she rapped my knuckles with a wood ruler. I don’t even know where she found it. ”

“This is explaining a lot,” I joke.

“I guess so,” he says, his expression falling a bit. “But her nephew’s the one who taught me to play the drums, so I’ll give her a pass. I just wish Ollie had a teacher who valued his strengths more.”