Page 37 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HANNAH

We each painted one of the four ninja turtles, but my mind was so fixed on Travis that mine came out looking more like a snail. Ollie took a liking to it, though, since Leonardo is his favorite, and asked to hang it in his room.

It was the easiest yes I’ve ever given.

Finally, Travis texts me from the bar, and some of my worry and angst floats away. He hasn’t been murdered by insane fans, and he’s with Liam, so I can stop agonizing over whether Alice will really hack it as a bodyguard. (I’m guessing the answer’s no.)

Once we’ve cleaned up our painting supplies, Briar lets Ollie braid her hair, which is extremely generous since it’ll probably take her half an hour to get the knots out. He ties a rubber band at the end, nodding to himself as if he’s satisfied with his work.

“Will you look in the mirror?” he asks. “I want to make sure I did an okay job.”

He’s so adorable, I can barely stand it.

We all shuffle into the bathroom together to inspect Briar’s hairdo. She’s a good sport and manages to not look horrified when she sees her bumpy braid.

“Good job, Ollie.” She turns her head back and forth, checking out the long sort-of braid. “It’s a treat to have someone else do my hair.”

“Maybe we can use those face masks now,” he says hopefully. “Mom didn’t like it when I used hers, but sometimes she would let me use one to make me be quiet.”

As if I needed another reason to dislike Lilah. My list is already several pages long, partly because I think she did more damage to Travis than I realized at first.

“Of course, Ollie,” I say tightly, already planning on buying him an even bigger box of skincare masks. “We’ll all do one together, and you can talk as much as you’d like. We’re all talkers here.”

Except for Briar, who’s usually more of a listener than a talker. Grinning, she says, “Please talk over Hannah, Ollie. You’d be doing us all a favor.”

Sophie, bless her, has tears in her eyes as she offers Ollie “first pick” of the masks, and soon we all look delightfully ridiculous. Ollie, of course, selects a turtle, and we pile onto the couch to watch another episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles .

Briar is still wearing her unicorn mask when she gets an all-hands-on-deck text from her dad.

Rolling her eyes, she says, “He’s been doing this for weeks. They’re never about anything. It’s one of his tests for me—to see if I’ll drop everything and show up when I’m needed. But all he’s doing is making everyone mad.”

“Tests make me mad too,” Ollie says with a shrug. “Mrs. Applebaum keeps giving them to me to test my grade level. It’s no fair because everyone else gets to do fun stuff like make art out of trash.”

Sophie beams at him. “That does sound fun. Maybe we can work on a trash-into-treasure project for The Crafty Monster.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure parents are aching to hang up a bunch of cereal boxes on their walls.”

Sophie shoves my shoulder good-naturedly. “You’d hang up Ollie’s cereal box.”

Well aware that Ollie’s watching me with a hopeful look beneath his turtle face mask, I reply, “Of course I would. I’d hang up all of them. My wall would look like a grocery store, and I’d love it.”

Briar leaves, keeping her mask on, because we convinced her it would be more fun to show up at the meeting that way.

Ollie, Sophie, and I watch a final episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles , which is surprisingly addictive, and then my phone buzzes with texts from Travis.

Sorry.

I’ll be home later than planned. Rob’s here, and Dottie and Eugene and your brother. Would you be able to put Ollie to bed?

Sure.

Use my credit card to order some dinner. Whatever you want.

So we have pizza, and then dessert (thank you, Travis), and afterward Sophie and I get Ollie to bed.

After he snuggles up with his stuffed sloth, I kiss him on the forehead and leave the room. The sight of my turtle painting on his wall makes me smile. He wanted it up, so up it went. I figured Travis was hardly in a position to get mad at me for putting a hole in his wall.

Sophie is waiting for me on the couch with a couple of sodas. She hands one to me, her eyebrows raised. “Well, they’ve all had too much to drink, apparently. So Rob’s playing taxi driver for all of the drunks. He should be here soon with Travis.”

“They’re all drunk?” I ask, wide-eyed, thinking of Eugene and his bottlebrush mustache, sweet Dottie, and even my brother, who has an infamously high tolerance for alcohol. I’m a little bit annoyed that I missed their epic night out, especially since it was at Big Catch.

“Sounds like it.”

“Is there any chance we can convince Rob to stop here first so we can get a look at them?”

“He is stopping here first. I volunteered to give Dottie a ride home to help him out.” She laughs. “Why are you this excited at the thought of seeing a bunch of drunk people? I’m surprised you didn’t get sick of it at Big Catch.”

“I mostly want to see Eugene, but Dottie’s also a delight when she’s shit-faced. Liam’s mostly just silent and broody. I wonder what Travis is like when he’s drunk.”

“You can look your fill and then head home. After Rob drops Eugene off, he’s coming back. He said he’d stay over here tonight.”

“No way. I’ll stay with Travis and Ollie. He’ll probably even pay me overtime.”

“Hannah,” she says in an undertone.

“Oh, please. I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s wasted. He made it very clear that he doesn’t think we should hook up again, and drunk guys don’t do it for me.”

“It’s not that.” She blows air into her cheeks, then lets it gust out. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

Fucking ouch.

She must see the hurt on my face, because she grabs my hand. “Rob said he was embarrassed. Travis is probably worried he’s going to throw up on you. And after last night… ”

“Well, too bad. There’s no reason for Rob to stay. Get your man to come home with you, and I’ll take care of my boys.”

She gives me a look that says she noticed what I said and we’ll be talking about it later, but she nods. “Okay. I know better than to argue with you when you use that tone.”

She darts conspicuous glances at me as I settle down next to her on the couch to wait. I’m guessing she’s trying to spur me into conversation, but I’m not going to make it easy for her.

“So you really like Travis, huh?” she finally asks.

“He’s a mess.”

I feel guilty for saying it, but right now it’s true. I don’t hold it against him. I’m a mess too. Always have been, always will be.

There’s beauty in messes, but if I know one thing about Travis, it’s that he won’t be a mess forever. He’ll figure out all the things that need figuring, and when he’s done, I’ll still be a mess.

“So?” she challenges.

“I told you I’m not getting involved with one of your boyfriend’s friends. It’s a terrible idea.”

She gives me a flat look. “My boyfriend’s my ex-fiancé’s brother. A lot of people thought that was a terrible idea too.”

“It was. You’re just lucky.”

“Seriously, Hannah?” Sophie used to believe wholeheartedly that she attracted bad luck, and she still looks incredulous at the thought of fortune smiling on her.

“Yeah, I said what I said. You are lucky. You just took a while to realize it. Besides, you don’t work for Rob.”

“No,” she says. “But it’s not like this is some random job for you. You love Ollie. I can tell.”

“You’re right. Which is why Travis is right. We can’t risk our situation blowing up in some awful way just because we’re attracted to each other.”

She shakes her head slightly but says, “Sure, it’s definitely a risk. But I have to admit I’d like it if we were dating best friends.”

“It would definitely be an upgrade from dating the same person.”

We both laugh, and I expertly shift the conversation in a different direction, asking about her craft business.

Then a knock lands on the door, and I grin at her. “The Drunk Express!”

“The rest of them will be in the car,” she says with a smile.

“Party pooper.”

I follow her to the front door, which she opens to reveal Rob with his arm around Travis.

Travis’s polo shirt, which was crisp earlier, looks kind of seedy now, like he’s a drug dealer who snuck into a polo match to sell weed behind the stables.

His hair is all mussed, and there are hollows under his eyes, and I feel an awful urge to hustle him inside and take care of him.

To smooth his hair down and help him pull on a clean shirt.

To wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck.

Of course, the first thing he says to me is: “What are you doing here?”

He has an alarmed, hunted look on his face.

Ah, he must have asked Rob to make sure I left before he arrived. Smooth.

“Funny you should ask,” I say. “I work here. And you’ll be paying me overtime. You can leave him on his bed, Rob. I’ll get him some Tylenol and water, but there’s something I have to do first.”

“Hannah,” Rob starts. “That’s not?—”

I’m sure he’s about to say something regarding his plan to spend the night here with Travis, but I’ve already made my decision.

Sophie can fill them in.

I head over to the car in the driveway, laughing when I see my six-foot-six brother folded into the back seat. Dottie’s in the front passenger seat, looking bright-eyed and cheerful in her soft sweater dress and dove-gray overcoat. I know Liam did the gentlemanly thing, as he should.

I get into the driver’s seat so I can talk to them.

“Oh dear,” Dottie says. “I felt certain Rob was driving.”

I grin at her. “He was. I’m just visiting. I want to hear all about your drunken exploits.” I glance back and am disappointed to see that Eugene has all the hallmarks of being asleep against the window.

He has a name tag on his sweater vest that reads: I’m Eugene, ask me about my spreadsheets!

“I’m not drunk,” Liam insists.

“I certainly had a few too many tipples,” Dottie says. “But it was an interesting evening, wasn’t it, Liam dear?”

Eugene starts snoring in a way that suggests sleep apnea.