Page 17 of Nanny for Grumpy Grant
There’s something about her that draws me in.
I felt it this morning—not just pity, but something deeper. A quiet bond, forming in the space between us.
And I have a feeling she’s the reason her father changed his mind.
I take a slow breath, look back up at the man behind the wheel, and realize something else.
He’s not being a jerk. Not really. He’s just being careful.
Every rule, every restriction, every overly detailed guideline—it’s all coming from the same place.
Love.
Overprotective, obsessive, bordering-on-overbearing love—but still love.
And honestly? I can respect that.
Maybe even admire it.
Still, it’s a little much.
“You know,” I say lightly, “for a guy who said I wasn’t the right fit, you sure are handing me a lot of instructions.”
He doesn’t respond right away. His hands tighten slightly on the wheel.
“I was wrong,” he says finally. “And… I’m sorry for being a grump.Grumpy Grant.”
Shit. Now I feel bad for calling him that.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
“It’s okay,” he says, chuckling. “I’ve earned the nickname.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard him chuckle. I can’t see his face—not directly—but I catch a flash of white teeth in the rearview mirror.
And something flickers inside me—an odd flutter I try to shove back down.
Nope. Absolutely not. Not going there.
Just because he has broad shoulders and a gruff voice and loves his daughter fiercely doesn’t mean I need to start assigning adjectives likehotorwoundedor—God forbid—interesting.
He’s still Grumpy Grant. He’s still cold, intense, and probably impossible to please.
And I’m just here to do a job.
That’s it.
I sit a little straighter and look out the window.
Focus, Ivy. You don’t want to mess up with your boss, again.
Besides, this isn’t about you, or about him.
It’s about Emily.
Grant pullsinto the drive and cuts the engine. I expect him to pop the door and tell us to have a good day like some reluctant Uber driver.
Instead, he gets out and opens the back door for Emily.
