Page 46 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
“Every day?” I asked. “Hazel, that’s a lot of free biscotti.”
“I know. It’s working though. I’ve picked up two more regular clients since I started. They want pastries once a week.Pastries, Flora.” Her eyes were shining. “Not–notsandwiches, orsalads, orburrito bars. Pastries.Mypastries.”
“Of course they do. Your stuff is amazing.”
“Right.” She didn’t lack for confidence, Hazel. I chuckled. “So I know it’s working… but it’s not working fast enough. I just need a little more time.”
And the two thousand dollars could buy her that time.
I thought of the clock ticking down on my summer job. How many weeks did I have left until school started? Until Maddie went back to school, and I… I went back to school, too. I had to. I couldn’t afford not to, despite the salary Ryan was paying me.
A knot twisted in my stomach. Ryan.
Ryan, who was paying me to be his daughter’s nanny.
Ryan, who heard me come last night on the phone, who had whisperedgood nightso sweetly as the moon shone through my window. Ryan, whose car had picked me up from this apartment this morning and dropped me off back here after work, just before Hazel buzzed herself up.
Ryan, who I would be saying goodbye to in a matter of weeks.
The knot tightened.
“When?” I asked.
Of course I would do this for her. I couldn’t buy myself time, but I could do it for my sister.
“As soon as you can,” she said. “I know it’s a lot, and I swear I’ll pay you back–”
I waved her away. “Don’t worry about it. I told you, I got a summer job this year. Nannying pays surprisingly well.” It did when you were working for Ryan Walker, at least.
“Thank you,” she said, exhaling a huge sigh, and I nodded. “And thank your employer for paying so well, too, I guess.”
“You know,” I said, tapping my finger against my lips in mock thoughtfulness, “he has a friend who is in restaurant venture capital. I could probably get his number for you…”
“God, no,” Flora said. “If I wanted to sell my soul, I would’ve just called your dad, duh.” She raised her eyebrows at me over the lip of her coffee cup and I laughed. It had taken Hazel and I a long time–years–to get to this level of our relationship. Turns out, even if you have different dads, sharing one parent means that you share a lot of the same family drama. It was easier, after a while, to commiserate with each other than to compete. “Iwillpay you back, though.”
“How about this: when you becomethepastry chef of the New York elite, I want invites to all their parties.” The sound of her laughter was so bright and joyful that I couldn’t help but smile, too. I would paytwentythousand dollars, if I had it, to hear my sister always laughing like that. “And,” I added seriously, “I do also need you to give me about a billion more of these biscotti.”
“Yes, Flora,” she said, nodding emphatically. “For you?Anything.”
When she left, I was two thousand dollars broker, but the half-dozen biscotti she’d left behind kept me quite good company as I filled in three more job applications, and they had the added bonus of leaving me so full of cranberries and chocolate that I could skip buying dinner.
* * *
“Morning, Flora,” Ryan said as I breezed into his kitchen Monday morning. He was at the stove, making scrambled eggs. “Maddie’s running a little late this morning. I think she’s changing again. She needs the perfect outfit for your adventure.”
“I’m happy she’s excited,” I said. I’d planned a special trip today–a visit to the fashion museum at FIT. There was a steep learning curve between Maddie’s simple sewing projects and a hand-beaded couture gown like the ones they had on display at the museum, but I hoped it would be inspirational.
“I’mhappy she’s running late,” Ryan said, turning the stove off and leaving the eggs. “Come here.” He leaned against the counter next to the stove, opening his arms.
I raised an eyebrow, but tentatively stepped closer to him.
“You’ll have to be quicker thanthatif you don’t want to be caught,” he said, his voice low and rich. He caught my wrist, pulling me into him, his warm, strong body against mine. I tipped my face up for a kiss that, despite its brevity, left me feeling flustered, my cheeks warm, my breathing shallow. His hands rested on my waist, thumbs rubbing against the bottom of my rib cage, keeping me close for a moment after the kiss. “I’ll miss you, today, Flora,” he whispered. He smelled like coffee and toothpaste and faintly of his cologne or aftershave. Comforting and sexy all at once. I wanted to let him wrap his arms around me, hold me for a moment longer…
The toaster popped.
I jumped, and his mouth twisted into a smile as he released me, letting me step back to a professional distance.
“I can get breakfast,” I said, nodding at the toast now peeking from the slots on top.We saw that, they seemed to say. “You probably have to go.”
