Page 63 of The Unconventional Nanny
"Is this Jeremy?" I ask once I'm close enough.
"Sure is," Owen growls. "Go in and let my sister know everything is okay."
I don't comment on the way he barks the order because it's what I planned to do anyway. Heading back to the SUV first to grab my keys, I glare at Jeremy so violently, if looks could kill, I would have incinerated him on the spot. It still doesn’t seem enough, so I walk over and punch Jeremy in his face.
Shaking my hand out—damn that felt good—I head back up the sidewalk and unlock the door to my home. As soon as I'm inside, I turn off the silent alarm and yell for Gracie.
"We're up here," she hollers back.
Taking the steps two at a time, I follow her voice to the master bedroom. I quickly use the hidden key to unlock the door and find her hiding on the side of the bed.
"Where's Everly?" Concern for my little girl consumes me when I don't see her sitting with Gracie like I would expect.
"Ready or not, I come," my youngest's sweet voice says from the master bathroom, and it only takes me a second to recognize what Gracie did. She turned the situation into a game to keep my daughter hidden. "Daddy!" All focus on the game is lost when Everly sees me.
My daughter runs straight for me and I scoop her up into my arms and hold her tight, thinking about all the things that could've happened if Jeremy had made it through the front door.
"Found you," Every squeals when she sees Gracie stand up.
Gracie, being the good sport she is, smiles at my daughter. "Yes, you did, sweetie. You're such a good seeker."
My three-year-old baby beams at the praise, and in that moment, I know everything is going to be okay.
"We should probably get downstairs. Your brother is here."
I'm not sure if it's good or bad when Gracie sighs, but she doesn't argue, so I take that as a good thing.
Both Gracie and I wait until we have Everly set up with her snack before we go in search of Owen. We find him standing on the front porch speaking to the sheriff.
"So he's being extradited back to Chicago?" Owen asks.
"Yup," Sheriff Brasen responds. "Since we were never able to serve the PFA documents, we can't charge him with trespassing. But it doesn't matter. The embezzlement charges will put him away for a while."
I feel Gracie physically relax in my arms, and it makes me feel like a million bucks knowing she’s that comfortable with me.
That evening, as I'm fixing dinner with Gracie and the girls are busy watching a movie in the living room, I bring up something I've wanted to talk to her about since the situation earlier that day.
"Hey, sweetheart." I clear my throat to get her attention.
Gracie stops shredding the block of cheese for the enchiladas and looks at me expectantly. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
She laughs. "Because you look constipated. Or like maybe you ate something sour. I'm not sure which, but your face is pinched in a weird expression."
I put down the wooden spatula and turn off the burner where the beef is done browning so I can look at Gracie without burning the food. Or burning the house down, now that I think about it.
"Seriously?" I shake my head at her. "You think I look constipated?"
Gracie lets out a very unladylike snort. "Or like you ate something sour. Don't forget, that was an option too."
I can't help but laugh with her at how this conversation has already taken a turn, and nothing like the serious one I was hoping to have.
"I'm not constipated and I didn't eat anything sour," I'm quick to clarify.
"Then why the look?"
"Because I wanted to talk to you about something."
