Page 6 of Puck Your Nanny

Ms. Henderson fixes me with a steely gaze. "Children need discipline, Mr. Blake. A firm hand. None of this modern coddling. Spare the rod, spoil the child, as they say."

My stomach sinks. This is exactly what I didn’t want. "Right. Well, William is only three months old, so I’m not sure how much discipline he needs at this stage."

She waves a dismissive hand. "It starts from day one, Mr. Blake. Instilling respect, obedience. Building character. The sooner you establish the hierarchy, the better."

Hierarchy?He’s a baby, not a recruit in boot camp. I try to steer the conversation back to something a little less terrifying. "So, your application mentions experience with infants?"

She nods, a sharp, jerky movement that reminds me of a vulture. "Extensive. I've even guided Betas to become Alphas."

"You guided them to become Alphas?"What is she even talking about? You present as what you are. It’s biology, not a choice. You can’t guide someone into being an Alpha.

She gives a tight, humorless smile. "Encouraged their natural tendencies, shall we say. A firm hand, a strict schedule, and absolutely no tolerance for weakness."

I swallow hard. This is a disaster. "And what about nurturing them? Affection?"

Ms. Henderson sniffs. "Sentimentality is a weakness, Mr. Blake. Children need structure, not hugs and kisses. Those are for Omegas."

My hands clench into fists under the table. "William needs love. He needs to feel safe and secure."

Her eyes narrow. "He needs to learn his place. And you, Mr. Blake, need to learn yours. An Alpha should not be so... soft."

I take a deep breath, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Ms. Henderson, I appreciate you taking the time to come, but I don’t think this is going to be a good fit."

She stands up, her movements stiff and abrupt. "Clearly, you are not ready for the responsibility of raising an Alpha heir. Pity. With the proper guidance, that boy could have amounted to something." She picks up her weapon-like handbag. "Good day, Mr. Blake."

She marches out, leaving me staring after her, a mixture of relief and utter exasperation swirling inside me. I run a hand through my hair.What the hell was that?If that’s what forty years of experience gets you, I’d rather hire a teenager with a babysitting certificate. I slump back in my chair, feeling a headache coming on. Five more interviews to go... This is going to be a long day.

I heave a sigh, trying to shake off the lingering effects of Ms. Henderson and her unique views on child-rearing. I glance at the clock. The next applicant should be here any minute.Please, let this one be normal. Please.

Another knock, less aggressive this time. I open the door to a woman who is the polar opposite of the previous candidate. She’s middle-aged, maybe mid-forties, dressed in a flowing tie-dye dress and enough beaded jewelry to outfit a small tribe. Her hair is a riot of colorful braids, and she smells stronglyof patchouli and something vaguely floral. Another Beta. But... different. Very different.

"Mr. Blake?" Her voice is airy, almost sing-song. "I’m Willow Moonbeam. So delighted to meet you!"

I manage a weak smile. "Come in, Ms. Moonbeam."

Willow Moonbeam? Seriously?

She practically floats into the living room, her bracelets jingling with every movement. "Oh, please, call me Willow! We’re all connected together. No need for formalities."

I lead her to the dining room, trying to ignore the way she’s gazing around with wide, slightly unfocused eyes. "Have a seat, Willow."

She settles into the chair, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling. "Such vibrant energy in this space! But I sense a blockage. Perhaps a smudging ceremony is in order?"

I clear my throat. "Maybe later. So, your application..."

"Oh, the application!" She giggles, a high-pitched, tinkling sound. "Such a formality, really. I believe in connecting with children on a soul level. Resonating with their inner light."

I try to keep my face neutral. "Right. But you do have experience with infants?"

"Oh, absolutely! I’ve been a spiritual guide for many little ones. Helping them to align their chakras and embrace their cosmic destiny."

My eye twitches.Chakras? Cosmic destiny?This is going from bad to worse. "So... you’ve changed diapers?"

Willow waves a hand dismissively. "Details, details! It’s all about the energy exchange. Nurturing the spirit, fostering creativity. I often incorporate crystal and aromatherapies into my childcare routine."

Just then, a wail erupts from the nursery. William. I wince. "Excuse me for one moment."

I rush upstairs to the makeshift nursery—it used to be a guest room, but we’d hastily thrown in a crib, a changing table, and a rocking chair two days ago. William lies in his crib, his face red and screwed up in distress.

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