Page 109 of Nanny for the SEAL

I don’t like it, though. My nerves, my instincts, they’re screaming at me that something is going on, but I can’t do much more right now. So, I go back inside and get into bed with Ivy.

Gently pulling her into my arms, I hold her close as I lie down next to her.

I’ll keep you safe, baby. I promise.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Ivy

Xaden is sawing logs when I begin to stir in the bed. My body is blissfully sore, and I’m not rushing to the toilet, which is a nice improvement.

Everything feels warm and cozy, and I can’t think of any place I’d rather be right now.

Still, I feel like I have to say thank you somehow. Xaden has been so incredibly supportive and always puts me first. He deserves something nice for a change.

What can I do for you, huh?

I watch him sleep, gently brushing his bangs off his forehead, and then my stomach rumbles.

I’m actually hungry. That’s a good sign.

And then an idea strikes. I could make him breakfast in bed. Xaden never gets pampered. It’s time he got to sit back and relax for a minute.

Sitting up gently, I slip out of the bed and make sure to grab my phone on the way to the closet. I use it to check the monitor on the app, and Daisy is still sound asleep, too.

“Perfect,” I whisper, finding some undies and a pair of leggings, “I’ll be back before they even wake up. Well, hopefully.”

There’s a t-shirt on top of the clean clothes piled in the hamper, and I snag my sweater that’s hanging up to keep warm.

Still, I don’t want Xaden to worry, so I sneak over to his briefcase, which is parked on the chair by the door, and pull out a piece of paper and a pen.

I scribble out a note about running to the grocery store and demand that Xaden be firmly planted in this bed—with or without Daisy—when I get back. It shouldn’t take me long, only ten minutes or so.

Leaving the note on my pillow, I blow Xaden a kiss and hurry downstairs to snag my keys. My car is parked out in my driveway, so it’ll be quieter to take mine than open the garage and use Xaden’s.

The engine hesitates to turn over, but after a few seconds of impatient frustration, it starts, and I pull out of the driveway and head to the store that’s right on Main Street.

It takes no time at all to get there, and I find a spot directly in front of the main door on the street. I must be the only one up right now.

Hurrying out of the car, I grab my wallet, feed the meter a quarter, and then dash inside Murphy’s.

“Hey, Ivy!” Calls Mark, the regular clerk I always see, and I wave back at him, going for the bakery section to get some croissants.

Just as I’m coming around the corner of the aisle before the baked goods, I run smack dab into someone and stumble backward.

“Oof,” I blink, a bit bewildered, before I start to straighten myself and look up at the tallish man, “sorry about that. I must not have been looking where I was going.”

“Guess not.”

The voice is deep, and it has this subtle accent that doesn’t match the people of Red Lodge. It is a tourist town, but what are the odds of someone coming to the local grocery store.

Goosebumps work over my arms, and a shiver runs down my spine as I look up at a face that seems…weirdly familiar.

“I’m sorry,” I eke out, and the man glares down at me as a smirk climbs up the side of his mouth.

It’s crooked, revealing poorly cared-for teeth, and I swallow hard as silent alarm bells begin to blare in my head.

My instincts are screaming at me that I’m not safe, but I can’t place why. Is it just that odd feeling you get when someone’s presence rubs you the wrong way?

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