Page 4 of Mistletoe Meet Cute
My sister stepped in when my nanny let me know she was retiring for health reasons a few months ago.
It was just supposed to be a few weeks. But in my defense, the start of the football season is always hell, and I haven’t exactly had the time to make a ton of progress finding anyone to replace her. Two months into this, and it’s starting to wear on everyone.
Maverick and I have shit schedules during the season, and Emmie’s been taking care of Sophie for all of it. Overnights during away games. Practices.
You name it, she’s done it.
She and their daughter, Rosie—they’ve both been champs.
“Let me know if you need me to reach out to the agency,” she offers, and I know she’s being nice. I’ve already asked a lot of her. It’s time.
Probably past time, if I’m honest.
Fuck.
Emmie
Hey, big brother. Can you stop on your way home and pick up some children’s ibuprofen for me? Rosie isn’t feeling well, and Mav’s not answering his phone.
Camden
Sure. Mav’s probably still on the field. They ended up running later than they planned. I’ll see you in a few.
“Monroe, you good?” Coach stops in front of me as I check my phone after practice, my towel wrapped around my waist and hot water still dripping into my eyes.
He’s asking about my shoulder that’s been sore as shit. But that’s to be expected this far into the season. “Yeah, Coach. I’m good.”
“Big game this weekend. Gotta make sure your head’s on right. You seemed distracted today,” he mentions in a way only Brady Ryan can get away with. Coach was one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time before he retired and started coaching. He knows when you’re not giving 110 percent, and he’s not letting me off that easy.
“Just trying to get things covered at home, Coach. I’m good. We’ve got nothing to worry about this weekend.” And we don’t. We’re ready to make Pittsburgh our bitch.
He slaps me on the back and smiles, because Coach is always smiling. “That’s what I want to hear, Monroe. If you need help with Sophie, call the offices. Pretty sure we’ve got someone who can help find you a nanny.”
I nod and wait for him to walk away before turning back to my locker.
The team does have someone. But trusting someone I don’t know to hire someone else I don’t know to take care of the most important thing in my life doesn’t feel like a good idea.
“You still looking for a new nanny, Monroe?” Luke Chase grabs keys from his shelf and looks at me, relaxed in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever been.
The team is made up of a few kinds of guys. Some good. Some not.
Luke Chase is a good one. He works his ass off every single day to be arguably the best center in the league. He’s also one of the happiest guys I know. It’s a little off-putting, but he’s one of the few men I’d consider a friend, so I deal with it.
“Yeah. Emmie’s still watching Sophie,” I admit as I throw on sweats and grab my sneakers. “I think she’s ready to not be, but she’ll never admit it.”
“I may know someone looking for a job.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, not sure it matters. I probably won’t call them anyway. “Who?”
“My sister.”
“Don’t you have like five sisters, Chase?” Jamie Murphy laughs from the other side of Chase. “Any of them hot?”
“Not for you,” Luke growls and turns his back on our defensive tackle. “It’s four, actually. But one of them has a masters in babies and little kids.”
When I stare at him like he’s an idiot, he laughs. “Childhood development or something like that. Apparently, there aren’t aton of jobs around here, and I know she’s looking. She’s great with kids.”
It might not be the worst idea.
