One month later

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“You’ll do fine,” Bev said and drew a cigarette from her lips. She exhaled a puff of smoke, leaned against the side of the building and grinned at me. “Roman is totally cool, and he’s desperate for a nanny. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You go there and he tells you that you’re not qualified? We both know that’s not going to happen.”

I shouldered my handbag, then unclipped the nametag from my plain white blouse. Today had been the last day of working at the diner—the BBQ Stop—as a waitress. I was officially out of a job and moving toward my goals.

It was fucking terrifying. But at the same time, over the top exciting.

“Riley?”

“Yeah,” I said, blinking in the noon sunlight. I stepped under the shade of the breezeway’s overhang and focused on my best friend, instead of the squirming in my stomach.

“You were staring into space.”

“Ha, sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“I know you do,” Bev said, flipping her short red locks back from her face. She dropped her cigarette, stepped forward and crushed it underfoot, then laid a hand on my shoulder. Her blue eyes sparkled, even in the shade. “You deserve this, OK? You’re making the right choice.”

“I know that,” I said, “Bev, I told you I’m fine. You’re the one who seems super nervous.”

She shrugged, folded her arms, and looked off down the alley. “Maybe I am,” she said. “You’ve been through so much over the past year, girl. I just want this to go off without a hitch, you know? I want what’s best for you.”

A smile spread across my lips, and I drew her into a quick hug. “Well, what a coincidence. I want what’s best for me too.”

Beverly snort-laughed and clapped me on the back. “And I know you’ll get it, I do. I just—go easy, OK? In the interview? Um, just be yourself, but I don’t know how to put this… Roman is really focused on work and on doing the right thing for Carly, so he might be a bit harsh. Just bear that in mind when you meet with him.”

“I will,” I replied, and the nerves swam back.

I’d spent the last three months studying to get my CDA at night, ten hours a week, in between shifts, when I was so tired I could barely see straight. The past year had been spent sleeping on Beverly’s futon in her front room, because I couldn’t exactly go back to the apartment I’d called “home” anymore. Not with Marcus there.

I shuddered, and Bev pulled back from the hug. “Don’t think about anything but today. You’re gonna do great.”

“Bev, you’ve done so much for me already,” I said, and squeezed her hand. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you. You’re the best friend a chica could have.”

“I know.” She beamed at me then checked her watch. “But if I don’t get back in there and start frying stuff, the boss man is going to come out here and fry me. Good luck.” She headed for the back steps which led into the restaurant, then paused and looked over her shoulder at me. Bev blew me a kiss, and I waved it away like it was a fly. She flipped me off, and I caught that, stuck it in my pocket.

This was our daily goodbye ritual.

A final wave and the door slapped shut behind her.

I hesitated a moment longer, staring at the back door. It was like staring at a door to my past, in a weird way. Through there was the restaurant, the hours I’d spent serving people inside it, the nightly studying, the slow-burning fear which I’d refused to give into.

Through there was a thin line which stretched all the way back to how this had all started. To high school. To meeting Marcus, to eventually falling for him, to regretting it. And to running away, at last.

I inhaled through my nose, held it for a few counts, then exhaled through my mouth.

I lifted my middle finger and directed it at that door. “You’ll never get me down, ever again,” I whispered, then turned on my heel and marched down the alleyway and into the sunlight of the street.

The restaurant was on the River Walk, and my appointment with Beverly’s rich-as-hell brother was all the way up in Canyon Springs. I walked down the winding path next to the river, smiling at it, at a memory from a month ago that sent a tingle down my spine. Finally, I traversed the steps up to the road at the end of it and walked over to my car, which I’d parked on the side of the road.

I unlocked my ‘pre-owned’ Nissan Versa, cherry red for the win, and slipped in behind the wheel, then shut the door. This car was officially my baby, since it was the only thing I’d owned as mine since I’d left high school six years ago. I stroked the wheel now. “Today will be a good day, right? No transmission problems. We checked your tires. You’re not going to give me any trouble, are you? Because I didn’t study Car Development, I studied Child Development, and I need you to behave today.”

No, I wasn’t crazy at all. Just stressed.

I brought out my cell and opened up my GPS, set a course for the address Beverly had given me for Roman’s place—a thirty-minute drive without traffic. My finger hovered over the little arrow which would start the navigation.

The phone buzzed in my hand, and a notification from the #dateme app popped up.

All my nerves dissipated, replaced by the warmth of getting a message from Bryan. We’d kept our promise and remained friends. He was the one who talked me through my late-night studies. He was the one who’d been up and available after a late-night shift—probably because he had loads of work to do at his tech company.

We hardly focused on talking about work or even what I wanted to do in the future. We focused on us. On our likes and dislikes. On joking around with each other. On brightening each other’s days. Since that one deliciously hot night, we’d kept things as light as they could go, and I so appreciated that.

Life was way too complicated to worry about relationships too.

I opened up the app and read the message.

“Thinking of you today.”

“Good,” I typed back. “I need all the positivity I can get. I’ve got an interview today.”

“You do? Should have told me. I would’ve set aside what I was doing to give you some support.”

“What kind of support?” I asked back.

“Jokes? Limericks? Dick pics?”

I snorted at that, but heat still flooded me. “Sexting?”

“Don’t tempt me, gorgeous. You keep me up at night as it is.”

“I’m trying not to make this hard on you,” I said, and italicized the word hard.

“Very cute,” he replied. “Anyone ever tell you, you should be a comedian?”

“Anyone ever tell you, you should kiss my ass?”

A beat, and those three infuriating dots appeared as he typed back on the app. I took the moment to admire his profile picture. Him in a pair of jeans and a shirt, rolled up to his elbows, somewhere on a sunny beach, the wind toying with his hair. He bore a bright smile which warmed his eyes, as well.

“Kiss your ass, huh? I believe I already did that,” he texted back. “Listen, I’ve got to go, gorgeous. I’ve got a prior engagement, but I’ll catch up with you later. Ya dig?”

“Ya dig? You trying to keep it hip ‘n happenin’ there, huh?” I laughed again. God, this was what was so great about talking to him. He made everything easier. Funnier, happier. Simpler. I’d never had that before.

“Jesus, I’m thirty-two, not fifty-two. You make me feel like a grandpa.”

“Sexiest grandpa I know.”

He sent me a heart emoji in return then went offline. I smiled at the screen for a second longer then did the same. We’d specifically avoided exchanging numbers. Everything we’d done had been through the app, except for that one night, of course. This way, we kept it simple. All the complications of our pasts—not that I’d gone into great detail about mine with him—were shoved to one side, and we could just be ourselves.

“Never mind that now,” I muttered. “You’ve got like forty-five minutes until the interview.” I started the route on my GPS, placed the phone in my little holder, and started the car.

I hit the road, the nerves building steadily as I drove closer and closer to Canyon Springs. The neighborhood was nice. Really friggin’ nice. This was the area most people dreamed of starting a family in, and a place I’d likely never live.

Not on a nanny’s salary, and when I’d finally saved up enough money to get my bachelor’s in secondary education, not on a teacher’s salary either. But, heck, living in Canyon Springs wasn’t part of my dream or goal. Working here certainly was.

Working as a nanny would be my first step toward what I was truly passionate about. Education. Giving a kid, one who was down on their luck in high school, like I’d been, some guidance, some hope, a chance at a better life before it was too late.

It’s never too late to start fresh. Never.

Bev’s brother’s house was in a gated community, and I halted for the security guard to question me extensively before my appointment was confirmed and I was allowed in. The guy with the clipboard was kind of ratty, leered at me as I drove off, but I didn’t let it bother me. I’d been through way worse than a couple of inappropriate looks from a uniform.

I drove down the winding road and around the corner, then I pulled up outside the house.

It was, frankly, the fanciest place I’d ever seen.

“Holy shit,” I muttered. “Oh, wow.” Beverly hadn’t lied when she’d said her brother was loaded. She’d been sketchy on what he did, though, and that worried me. The last thing I wanted was to get involved with anything illegal. Never again.

I shook the thought out of my head and admired the house instead.

A stucco exterior, a sweeping lawn, two stories, with a neatly kept garden and a triple garage that let right out onto the street. I didn’t doubt there was a golf course attached to the back of this place. Heck, there was probably a heated pool inside.

“Classy.” Translation: act classy. Act professional. I switched off my now totally inappropriate Nissan Versa and got out. I locked the door out of habit then walked up the long path to the front door, breathing hard.

First step. This was the first step to my future. To getting away from that past.

The front door was as fancy as the rest of the place, rich dark wood complete with a brass knocker and a little colored-glass window. This was the door to my future. Hopefully. I didn’t want to flip it off, at least.

I took the knocker between my thumb and forefinger and knocked it twice.

Footsteps resonated on the other side, across tiles by the sound of it. The click of a latch followed, and the door swung inward.

I stuck out my hand, brought up a bright smile. “Hi, Roman, I’m—” I broke off.

The earth swayed beneath me, and I gasped.

The man holding the door open wasn’t Roman. He wasn’t Bev’s brother, not that I’d ever seen him.

He wore his hair short and blond and completed the look with a manly beard. His eyes were blue, and cold, now, so icy cold. He wore jeans, and shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his muscular forearms, tattoos creeping out from underneath the fabric.

“Bryan,” I breathed.