Page 21 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HANNAH

To be totally straightforward, I’ve been having trouble sleeping.

I can’t stop thinking about Travis. He told me he loves drumming because he likes riding the line between control and chaos, and that basically is him.

So super self-controlled that each weeknight has a specific dinner and his laundry is always done immediately after his bin is full.

So chaotic that he can play like he did the other night, like his soul would leak out of his body if he stopped. And the way he kissed me…

I can’t stop thinking about how it felt to be his complete focus, if only for a few minutes.

Lust isn’t the problem though. I like him. My whole body reacts whenever I hear him opening the door to his house, like I’m one of Pavlov’s dogs.

I positively live to tease him, but also to make him smile.

It’s disconcerting, because I’ve never felt like this before with anyone I’ve dated, and Travis is supposed to be my boss. Obviously he’s more than that, but I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend. I don’t want to fuck my friends.

Shaking off all thoughts of Travis, I head into Tea of Fortune five minutes early to meet the one and only Eugene Peebles.

I feel like patting myself on the back for getting the jump on Eugene, especially since I’m more of an accidentally-five-minutes-late kind of woman. But when I walk in, he’s already there, sitting solemnly at the table in the back where Travis and the band sat a couple of weeks ago.

How do I know it’s him?

Every bit of him screams the name Eugene. He’s got these double-bridge glasses and a bushy but entirely unhip mustache, plus a dishwater-gray button-up shirt. Honestly, his parents knew what they were doing when they named him.

And, sure, I might have looked up his photo and asked a few Big Catch staffers some questions about him.

Dottie, who’s sitting at one of the tables at the front with her friends—Ann, Constance, and Sophie’s Aunt Penny—practically leaps out of her chair when she sees me.

Since she’s way past retirement age, Dottie treats the café as more of a gathering place than a job and only works when she feels like it.

“I thought your Wise Women Group only met on Wednesdays and Saturdays,” I say, giving them a wave.

“Usually,” she says, “but Ann asked for an emergency session so she could show us her rash.”

“Shouldn’t she go to a doctor?”

“Oh no, I had just the salve for her. Your friend Eugene is sitting in the back already, dear, but I wanted to have a word with you. That poor man’s aura is very gray.”

“You know, I actually believe that,” I say as we meander toward his table, walking past other groups sipping tea.

Dottie places her hand on my arm, gently stopping me on the plush rug.

“Do you understand what I mean by that, dear?” she asks, fully aware I’m not much of a believer in her favorite things—i.e., auras, crystals, and luck.

“That he’s boring?”

She shakes her head, her lips pursed. “No aura is boring. Gray is actually very interesting.” Her eyes pierce into me. “Yours has some shades of gray.”

“A morally gray aura.” I grin at her. “That’s kind of cool.”

“It means sadness, Hannah,” she says, cutting me to the quick. “Both of you have experienced great sadness. Be gentle with him.”

I glance at Eugene again. He looks like a pissed-off gym teacher who gives instructions from a folding chair.

“Are you sure about that?” I don’t need to question her about myself. I know I’ve been in a funk. The mess at Big Catch has weighed on me for months. Jonah’s behavior didn’t exactly restore my faith in humanity, even though he did unwittingly lead me to Sophie and Briar.

“Quite so,” Dottie says. “I already gave him a hunk of smoky quartz, but he might also benefit from stroking some rose quartz.”

I laugh under my breath. “Looks like he’d definitely benefit from stroking something.”

Her gaze narrows on me. “Are you wearing your necklace?”

After Sophie, Briar, and I realized we were dating the same lying loser, Dottie gave us each hunks of rose quartz, and Briar, who loves to give herself extra work, made us pendants out of them.

The rose quartz is supposed to make us believe in romantic love again, which feels like a dangerous gamble right now.

I might not believe in Dottie’s stones, but I figure a girl should hedge her bets.

So I took it off the night Travis kissed me and haven’t put it on since.

“I’m not here to make a romantic connection with Eugene, Dottie,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And it didn’t match my outfit.”

“Love matches everything,” she insists. “And there are many different types of love, my dear, including self-love. You need to remember how to love yourself. Now, I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a lovely breakfast for you and your friend, but if you’d like to join me and the ladies later, you’re more than welcome.

We can help you determine how to help dear Eugene. ”

“What makes you think I want to help him?”

The woman sitting at the table next to us gives me a pointed move on look, and I smile sweetly at her and wave.

Dottie, who either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, smiles at me. “Because that’s your talent, dear. You’re a fixer. I don’t think you’ll be able to resist.”

She gives my hand another hand pat, then turns back to join the other ladies, leaving me in a mind storm.

That’s Dottie’s talent—acting like she’s a sweet little elderly lady and then coming out with bits of wisdom that bite you in the butt and make you question everything you thought you knew.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I continue the rest of the way to Eugene and sit across from him.

He checks his watch as soon as I sit.

“Oh, come on, I’m not late, and we both know it.”

He meets my gaze with a sniff that rustles his glorious bottlebrush mustache. “I’m Eugene.”

“And I’m Hannah, the old you.” I reach into my purse and pull out the mini flashlight I brought, handing it to him from across the table.

He takes it, his brow furrowing, and turns it over in his hand.

“I’m passing the torch,” I say. “Get it?”

He drops it like it’s a hot potato, and it rolls down the length of the stable and stops next to a vase full of crystals. “I can’t possibly accept gifts or bribes. ”

“You must be fun at parties,” I say.

The very sight of the flashlight on the table seems to make him anxious, so I tuck it back into my bag.

“You must be wondering why I asked you to meet me here,” he says, steepling his hands and then pulling them apart.

I can’t resist the urge to mess with him a little. “I thought you wanted me to pass the torch, but now I’m starting to wonder. Is this supposed to be a date , Eugene?”

“No,” he barks. From the look on his face, I suspect he would have taken off running if a dark-haired server didn’t choose that exact moment to come by with a pot of tea and a tray full of pastries that makes me wonder how those donuts are working for Travis.

Eugene peers at the server, perplexed. “We didn’t order anything. I haven’t even seen a menu.”

“Oh,” she says. “The owner asked me to send all of this over. It’s on the house.”

“That’s completely unnecessary,” he says. “I can’t accept gifts or bribes.”

“It’s for her,” she says, pointing at me. “She’s a friend of the owner.”

He puffs out his lips, as if waiting for me to echo his sentiments, but I grin at her. “I’m very open to both gifts and bribes.”

“Well…I don’t eat anything without knowing what’s in it,” Eugene says in a stodgy tone. “What if I’m allergic to whatever’s in there?”

“Do you have a food allergy, sir?” she asks intently.

“Well…no…”

“We’re good,” I tell her with a grin. “Thank you for bringing us breakfast. That was supercool of Dottie, and we’ll be sure to go by and say hey before we leave.”

“Oh, she’ll definitely be coming by the table to read your fortunes,” the server says, glancing at Eugene as if he’s a strange creature she can’t wrap her head around.

“Fortunes?” he echoes.

I nod to her, and as she walks away, I say, “Yes, Eugene. This is a place where they read your fortune in your tea leaves. What do you think about that?”

“I think it’s preposterous,” he says, getting a bit worked up by the idea.

“I know, right? But the woman who runs this place is a friend, and she’s into it, so I let her have her fun.” I raise my eyebrows, hoping this will be a teachable moment for him.

He sighs. “You think I’m a stodgy old man who should just let you young people have their fun.

I’ve heard plenty about the way you used to manage the tasting room at Big Catch.

But I’m running a workplace, Hannah. Workplaces shouldn’t be bacchanals with everyone sleeping in each other’s beds and having…

inappropriate relations at the office . Nor is it acceptable for people to drink on the job. ”

I pour us each a cup of tea, then grab a chocolate croissant. Waving it at him, I say, “You don’t work in a tax prep office, Eugene. You work in a brewery. You can’t run a brewery the way you’d run a tax prep office.”

“I disagree,” he says with a passion that tells me disagreeing with people is his true calling in life. “Any successful enterprise is run based on the same template.”

“What’s your background in?” I watch him over the rim of my cup as I take a sip. “I’m guessing you were an accountant, or maybe a teacher.”

His eyes widen with surprise. “A principal,” he says after a moment. “An elementary school principal.”

“Which elementary school?”

He chews his lip in obvious reluctance .

“Oh my God. What could I possibly do with that information?”

“Lakeshore,” he says, and I gasp.

“You just gave me that goose-over-a-grave feeling. My friend goes there.”

“You have a friend who’s a minor?” he says with a thunderous look. “That’s highly inappropriate.”

“Oh, relax, Eugene. I’m his temporary nanny.”

He waves a hand at me. “See, this is the problem with your method of doing things. This child is supposed to be a client, but you’re calling him your friend.”