Rules

Sabrina

Shit, it’s him. Mr. Gladiator. Mr. Muscles. That guy I bumped into at the mall.

There’s no mistaking it. Not that voice or that face or that build. Heck, he’s even wearing the same long-sleeved black shirt and faded jeans.

It is him.

Wait. Does this mean he’s… my boss?

“What are you doing here?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

“Forgive me, sir, but I was the one who let her in,” Lucy says. “She said she’s the new nanny so I told her to wait in the library while we find David.”

I lower my gaze. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour and there was such a commotion that I thought I’d check things out. Sorry.”

“You are the new nanny?”

I nod then take a deep breath before stepping forward, extending my arm. “Sabrina James from Stargazers Child Services.”

“Nice to meet you, Sabrina.” He shakes my hand. “I’m Randall Brewster.”

I nod. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Brewster. I’ll be your nanny from now on.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I mean your son’s nanny,” I correct, trying not to blush.

Randall turns to the boy next to him. “This is David, my son.”

I offer him my hand as well, bending over. “Hello, David.”

David doesn’t answer or even look at me.

“David?” Randall squeezes his shoulder.

“Hello,” he mumbles, then looks at his father. “Can I go to my room now?”

Randall looks at one of the maids. “Lucy, bring David to his room. Make sure he stays there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lucy leads the boy up the stairs. Halfway up, he glances over his shoulder at me, glaring.

Oh, boy. He sure is a difficult one. Still, nothing I can’t handle.

“Sabrina?” Randall says.

“Yes?” I look at him.

Now, this one I’m not sure I can handle. In fact, I still can’t believe he’s the new client, my new boss. Thank goodness I didn’t behave badly earlier. Or did I?

“I guess we need to talk. Come with me.”

I follow him down the hall to a room that has bookshelves, filing cabinets and a large, mahogany desk in the middle, a black leather chair behind it.

His office.

I can see other things as well, like the trophies on the shelf, some for his company and some for weightlifting. So, he really is a weightlifter. I see a picture of him lifting a barbell on the wall, too, which looks like it’s a magazine cover that’s been framed. Beside it are other pictures, one of him in a suit, where he looks incredibly hot, one of him with David, taken years earlier and another with his wife, taken even before that. Carol said he’s a widower, his wife having died giving birth to David.

So, he’s a successful businessman, a former professional weightlifter and he’s a single dad, too.

A hot single dad. “Please sit down.” Randall gestures to one of the two other chairs in front of his desk.

I take a deep breath as I take the one on the right, telling myself to calm down.

Remember, Sabrina. He’s your boss.

Right. I should start being more professional. In fact, I should probably apologize for my casual behavior earlier.

“Mr. Brewster…”

“Please call me Randall,” he tells me.

My eyes grow wide. What?

“When it’s just you and me, you can call me Randall.”

“But…”

“After all, I’d like us to be friends.”

Friends?

“I think we should work together to figure out what’s best for David and do it, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” I agree. “But…”

“Sabrina,” he says, not letting me finish. “That’s your name, right?”

I nod.

“You have no idea how nice it is to know you have one. Now, I don’t have to call you Bug Lady.”

“Bug Lady?” I frown.

“I had to call you something.” He leans forward. “Who would have thought you were actually my son’s new nanny? I guess you weren’t lying when you were meeting a boy much younger than twenty-five.”

I grin, remembering that. “Much, much younger.”

“He’s quite good-looking, too. I’m almost jealous.”

Jealous? How can this hunk of a man be jealous of such a little boy? Anyway, he has no reason to be.

Unless he’s still interested in me.

“By the way, that uniform looks good on you.”

I look at my pale blue dress, which has a jabot collar, big, white buttons in the middle all the way to the waistline and three-fourth sleeves. It’s not the typical nanny’s uniform, I guess. Carol said she designed it herself, with the goal of making it not look so stringent or intimidating, just light and comfortable, hopefully conjuring happy thoughts.

It does seem to have that effect on Randall, though I’m pretty sure Carol meant it for the children and not the fathers, which in turn makes me blush.

“I guess you were right, too, when you said you never got off work, huh?” he adds.

I fidget with my skirt. “I work full-time, after all.”

He taps his fingers on his desk. “Then I guess we’ll just have coffee here at home.”

I look at him in surprise. He still wants to have coffee with me?

“Or maybe you hate coffee?”

“No, I don’t.” Oh, what the heck. It’s just coffee. “Sure. I guess we can share a coffee break, if I have one that is.”

“Of course you do. You can take a break whenever you need.”

I can?

“Actually, you can do whatever you want when David is at school.”

“Do I bring him to school?” I ask.

“No. That’s Harry’s job. You just need to get him prepared for school. It starts at eight-fifteen. He leaves the house about half an hour before that.”

I nod, committing that to memory.

“And by getting him prepared for school, I mean that you just need to get his bath ready, his clothes ready and his bag ready. Mrs. Wilson is also the cook so she prepares breakfast. She’ll cook David’s lunch, too, so you just have to put it in his lunch box and in his bag.”

“Okay.”

“When David comes home, he’ll be under your care. You can help him with homework or whatever he’s doing for school. You can play with him. No computer games on weeknights, though. You can watch TV with him. Basically, you just get to keep him company, provide for his needs, and make sure he follows the rules.”

“What rules?”

He counts on his fingers. “No computer games on weeknights. Bedtime at eight-thirty. Do homework. Read one book per day. Do fifty jumping jacks every other day.”

“Fifty jumping jacks?” My eyes grow wide.

“That’s his prescribed exercise routine. It’s actually very mild.”

I guess it would be if one did fifty crunches, squats, push-ups and what-nots a day, which is what I think he does.

“No sweets after dinner on weeknights. No junk food. Brush teeth after breakfast and before bedtime. No cursing. No pranks.” He looks at me. “I hope you got rid of those plastic bugs.”

“I did,” I admit.

No wonder he asked me to do that.

“Also, you’re in charge of cutting his nails, combing his hair, you know, grooming. And making sure he takes his vitamins.”

“Okay.”

“Also, his dog is his responsibility but it’s your job to give him a bath.”

“Right.”

I hope I remember all that.

“Any questions?” Randall asks, sitting back in his chair.

I touch my collar. “What about rules for me?”

“For you?” He looks confused.

“Do you want me to eat with the maids? Do you–”

“You can eat whatever you want from the kitchen with whoever you like whenever you like, though I hope you’ll eat dinner with David and me.”

“If that is what you’d like.”

“I think that’s it.” Randall places his hand on his desk. “Any other questions?”

I can’t think of any at the moment so I shake my head.

“Sabrina.” He leans forward again, his tone slightly more serious.

“Yes?”

Why is it that whenever he calls me by name, my heart skips a beat?

“The most important thing I want you to do is to make David happy,” he tells me. “And help him be a good person.”

I nod. “I understand.”

Any father would want that for his child and as David’s nanny, I want it for him, too.

“Good.” Randall stands up. “Then I guess it’s time for you to get to know him.”