Page 52 of Mended Hearts

She slapped a palm over my mouth, eyes wild. I stared at her in surprise. The woman had brass most men couldn’t even fathom. It was fucking adorable.

“Ollie, are you high?” she hissed, looking more terrified than thrilled—not exactly the reaction you expect when offering someone a six-figure salary. “You’re offering to pay mesix fucking figuresto take care of two of the coolest kids on the planet?! Have you lost your mind?”

I peeled her hand off, tracing my thumb over her knuckles as I asked, “Is that a yes?”

“That’s way too much! I already told you I don’t want your money, and this feels an awful lot like you trying to fix my problems.”

I scowled. “On the contrary, that’s the going rate in this neighborhood.”

“Seriously?”

“Ellington pays his nanny more. Granted, his kids are feral.”

“HolyHawkeye.” She stared at me, like she was waiting for a punchline. “Shit. What the hell does Carly do to these nannies?”

“Steadily destroys their self-esteem. Paints them as the villains to the kids.”

“Good luck,” she muttered. “Carly could kick me in the shins daily and, for thirteen grand a month, I’d smile while she did it.”

“Jesus, Trouble—wait. Are you saying yes?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never—but this is—you are—thekidsare amazing and—umm.” She jammed her eyes closed and sucked in a deep breath, releasing it slow and steady. I kept thumbing soft circles across the back of her hand, relishing the stolen contact. Finally, she whispered, “This isn’t charity?”

“Fuck no, Leighton. You’re the only person I thought of when Oaklyn walked out. The only woman I’d trust to handle not just my kids, but their psychotic mother.”

“I make no promises to leave her face intact.”

“I have attorneys on retainer.”

“No need. My brothers taught me how to get someone to swing first.”

I shrugged. “Self-defense is a viable argument.”

She laughed but dropped her gaze, chewing her lip. I stayed quiet. Greyson’s strategy. Sometimes silence did more than words. And sure enough, when she looked up again, her walls were down.

She blew out a breath. “I keep my condo.”

“Done.”

“You’renotpaying me extra for housing. That concept makes me vomit in my mouth, and Greyson already paid off Alice’s mortgage, so...”

“Valid point.”

“We keep things perfectly professional.”

Rule number one of sales: clarifying questions are a good sign. Means the pitch is working. She could hit me with as many as she wanted. I’d take ’em all.

“Find me a Bible and I’ll put my hand on it.”

“And you treat me like any other employee. No weird strings.” She waggled her fingers in my direction.

“I’ll henceforth pretend you’ve never seen me naked.”

“Ollie!” she barked, glancing at the doors.

Chuckling, I held up a hand. “Sorry. One last joke. For old times’ sake.”

“You’re a menace.”

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