Chapter Two

 

GARRETT

 

Slouching against the back wall of the elevator on the way up to my apartment, I read the message from Callum Reed, my manager, as the doors slide open. Another one of my sponsors is suggesting I get my act together or they’ll consider taking their sponsorship elsewhere. And I’ve only just come from a lunch meeting where Dunlop threatened to drop me if another story comes out about me. Christ, it was only because I had satin panties belonging to Lacey Deluca, that randy sports reporter in my hand when those damn elevator doors opened. It’s not as though they caught us in the act.

“As if I don’t have enough on my plate,” I mutter under my breath as I mash the screen on my phone to send another text. I’m already racing to get to Paynt’s to pick up Abby. I’m supposed to be there in ten minutes.

A woman enters the elevator, speaking softly to someone on her phone. She punches a button, and studiously ignores the fact we’re sharing a space. Which is perfectly fine. Sometimes people know who I am, sometimes they don’t. But fucked if I’m going to sign another person’s balls today. I finish tapping out a response to Callum along the lines of what I do in my personal life shouldn’t matter to the old geysers as long as they’re making money off my golf swing. It’s not as if I’m the first pro who isn’t the perfect “healthy role model.” Damn it, I’m doing the best I can here. As for how often I get a hole in one when I’m not on the golf course … well, that’s none of their business.

Of course, that’s not entirely true. Without sponsors, there’s no money. No money means no tournaments and my career may as well be circling the toilet. An eventuality I’m all too willing to avoid as long as possible. The game has been my life since I was a child, the only thing I really deep down can’t imagine not doing. That is, it was the only thing until Abby came into my life. Still, I’m not ready to give up golf, even if that means letting men with checkbooks order me to behave.

“I’m nervous,” the woman in front of me says, and I raise my gaze to take in the back of her head. She’s got her phone locked to her ear, tendrils of auburn red hair curling out from the short ponytail that’s failing to hold itself together. A burst of something floral and sexy scents the air as she pushes the oversized sleeve on her navy and white striped shirt, along with the strap of her satchel, back onto her shoulder. “I know that, Danny, but I really need this to work out.”

She covers her mouth and the phone with her hand, but with some straining I’m fairly confident I catch the words. “You have sex with one unavailable baby daddy and it’s game over.”

“Fore,” my own voice hollers from my cell, and the woman’s shoulders stiffen for a second before she tilts her ear more fully to her own conversation. So she fucked Mr. Wrong, but is she talking to Mr. Right? Or Right Now?

“Yes, of course. I’ll call you straight after. You want to go to The Ogden again?”

Straight after what? And I know that bar. Maybe I’ve seen her there. God, I hate sharing elevator space with interesting strangers who won’t turn around. I have an unhealthy dose of curiosity about people, and this one isn’t usually a visitor to my apartment building.

My phone sounds off again, and I shove it deep into my pocket. Plenty of great evenings I’ve organized in elevators.

“Of course, it’ll be my treat.” She exhales, and I can imagine she’s rolling her gaze to the ceiling. Obviously her taste in men could use a little help.

The box jumps and the doors open. Slipping away from the wall, I clear my throat. I have no idea what I plan to say. Considering Callum’s last words to me were to keep my dick out of steel boxes and pretty girls, I should make a beeline out of the elevator. But man, it’s difficult not to be curious about this one. 

“There was this guy in the elevator with me,” she whispers into her phone as she hurries down the hallway past several apartment doors. “I think he was listening to our conversation.”

Well, yeah, it was kind of hard not to when it was only the two of us in a confined space.

“Fore!” I drag my phone from my pocket and read the message on the screen. The agency trying to find my new replacement nanny is sending someone over in short order. Well, at least that’ll be something off my plate.

“And I think he’s following me. It’s kind of creepy.”

I jerk to attention. Did she just call me creepy?

“Unbelievable.” She laughs nervously and glances over her shoulder while carefully flicking a stray curl out of the way as though that was her intention the whole time. “Definitely creepy.”

Red’s a cutie. Wide, blue-gray eyes and porcelain skin. And I’m pretty sure I’ve met her. Probably at The Ogden. I meet a lot of people though. A lot of women. “Totally not following you.”

“Shit.” She juggles the phone when she jumps and spins around to face me, that bag of hers banging wildly against her hip. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not following you.” I stride toward her, pointing behind her and trying to ignore the fact that I know I’ve met this chick before and she did say something about sleeping with an unavailable baby daddy and, Christ help me, I hope it wasn’t me. Nah, I would remember having sex with her, surely. “That’s my door.”

“Uh. It is not. It can’t be.” Hanging up without saying good-bye to her friend, she drops her phone in her bag and moves to the side, her gaze on my hand as I shake out the right key on my fob.

“Sure it can.” I shove my key in the lock and push open the door. “Though I have no idea why you’re stalking me. That’s kind of creepy, don’t you think?”

I wink at her, but she doesn’t laugh. Instead she gathers herself up and adjusts the strap over her shoulder again. “You’re Mr. Frost?”

“That depends who’s asking.”

Thrusting her hand out in front of me, she musters the best smile she can probably manage considering the circumstances. “I’m Erin Sanders. The Olive You Nanny agency sent me. I’m here for the nanny position.”

“You can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, you’re too young.”

“I’m twenty-six.” Erin follows me into the apartment as I move through the living room, picking up a couple of Abby’s toys.

“Okay.” Bad excuse. Although I’ve had better luck with the grandmother types when it comes to who is best to look after my daughter. The last woman I interviewed had this skirt that magically kept getting shorter and shorter while she sat with her legs crossed, her strappy sandal hanging off her foot. If she could distract me during a short interview, that’s no good for my kid. She’s the one who needs a nanny, not me. I head into Abby’s room, drop the toys on the bed, and turn to face this girl who has invaded my apartment. Where the hell did she come from? Besides the agency, I mean.

“Have we had sex?”

“W-what?” She hesitates, her arms full of toys and clothes she’s scooped up while she’s followed me.

“You and I. Have we had sex? I want to believe I’d remember, but I know you from somewhere.”

She stares at me, her head pulled back, brows drawn into a comical expression of horror. “Are you kidding me?”

Dropping my hands to my sides, I shrug. “Not particularly. I hear in some circles I’m quite the catch.”

“You’re something all right,” she agrees, rolling her gaze to the ceiling. “You really don’t remember?”

“Sorry.” I shrug again. “Was it better for you than it was for me?”

“Fore!” My phone goes off like a siren, and I jiggle it out of my pocket. “Shit, I’ve got to go.”

“N-no.”

“What? I haven’t had a performance complaint before.”

“No. I didn’t sleep with you.” She dumps the armful of stuffed farm animals, glittery purple Sketchers, and my daughter’s favorite skort and polo on top of the patchwork quilt. “Quite the opposite.”

“Do you want to?” There was no good reason to ask that, and I’m already grabbing the extra bag I keep packed and hung over Abby’s door. It’s not like I want to know the answer.

“Who do you think you are?” I can practically feel her burning a scowl into my back, her steps not quite keeping up with mine.

Entering the hallway, I wait for her to step out behind me, and then I lock the apartment door. Taking her hand in as friendly a manner as I can muster, I say, “I’m Garrett Frost, professional athlete, God’s gift to women, and I am running late.”

I draw my hand from hers, and we’re on our way again, rushing toward the elevator.

“We met last week. At The Ogden. You were making a wager that you could pick up any woman.” She glides into place beside me as the doors slip shut. “And no, I do not want to sleep with you. Not now, not ever. I have a boyfriend.”

That catches my attention. Glancing down at her, I study her a little more closely as we descend. “Now I remember you. You were the hottest girl in the bar that night. Thanks for the advice, by the way.”

“Glad I could help.” She half smiles. “Now about the position. You already know my philosophy on what makes a good nanny.”

“Not a chance,” I say.

“Seriously?”

“I would have won that wager if not for that phone call. I don’t employ women I can get into bed. My daughter’s far too important.”

“Trust me. I’m not attracted to semi-famous guys with egos that belong in the IMAX version of Jurassic Park.”

“Is that so?” She’s standing with her back against the wall as I make my move. Turning on her, I leave an inch between us as I brace a palm to the mirrored surface. I’m close enough that I catch the slight hitch in her breath as I tug on one of those red curls. “You’re fiery, and I like that.”

“Does this work for you?” she questions me, stabbing her finger between us as the doors slide open. “Enclosed spaces and a few pretty words? Does your attention normally make women swoon?”

“Uh, yeah.” I take a step back when she pushes past me. “Usually.”

“Oh, Mr. Frost. I’ve always wanted to ride your elevator. It’s almost too much for a girl like me to handle.” She marches out into the underground carpark ahead of me, spins around, and pretends she’s about to go into a dead faint.

“Ha. You’re funny.” I stride across the parking level, the monkey-shaped backpack swinging from my shoulder. “So what part of it doesn’t work for you?”

“All of it.” She stops and I pass her before she calls after me, “Is that really why you won’t hire me? You’re scared I’ll fall victim to your charm and good looks.”

“It would be par for the course.” In this five-minute round trip, I have to admit I’ve had more fun than my past five dates. Which is exactly why I shouldn’t be thinking about her in terms of a possible nanny for Abby. Next time, I’m asking for a male.

“But not for me.” She grabs my arm. “I need this job. I have great references. I have absolutely no interest in you as a man. At least let me meet your daughter so you can see I’m great with kids.”

“Of course you’re great with kids. You practically are one.” I unlock my Range Rover, yank open the pristine white door, and toss the monkey onto the back seat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pick up my daughter from her uncle.”

Sliding into the buttery leather seat, I barely get the engine started before she hops into the passenger side and locks the door behind her. “I told you I’m twenty-six, and I have no interest in you besides your daughter. I have a boyfriend. We’ve been together for years. I have great references. Just give me a chance.”

“Get out.”

“No.”

I blow out through my mouth and slam my fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re going to have to exit the vehicle.”

“Not until you give me a trial run.” She pulls on the seat belt and latches it in place.

“Christ on a golf cart.” I glare at the ceiling. “I don’t have time for this. I’ll drop you off at The Ogden.”

Pulling out of my designated parking space, I head for the exit and swing into traffic. Just give me one good reason to tell her no.

“What did you say your daughter’s name is?”

“Abby.” I grip the steering wheel and creep along with the other cars. Why am I even telling her this when I have no intention of letting her work for me? “Wasn’t your employment terminated last time we talked?”

“It was.” She flicks her gaze in the direction of the window and winces. It’s subtle enough I almost miss it. “Which turned out to be great for you, because you need a qualified nanny and I need the employment.”

“What happened?”

“Uh, they didn’t think I was necessary with the eldest starting kindergarten.”

“Really?” Sounds like bullshit to me. I can’t imagine raising a child gets easier to handle alone at any point.

“Yes. Let me show you the letter of reference.” She starts shuffling through her satchel and pulls out a binder.

I glance over as she flicks through the inch-thick folder. “How many references have you got in there?”

“Enough to show that I’m an excellent choice for your daughter’s nanny.”

“Looks to me like you’ve moved around a lot.” I turn my focus back to the road. “Commitment issues?”

“No, I don’t have commitment issues.” She shoves her résumé back in her bag. “Most nannying gigs aren’t long-term. And my references are impeccable.”

“So how long did you say you’d been with that boyfriend of yours?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I want to know that you can actually stick with a relationship, work or otherwise.”

“Are you serious?” she asks. “You’re the one with the reputation.”

“At least I’m consistent.” I smirk. “Committed to being uncommitted.”

“Years.” She twists the fingers on both hands together. “And we’ve known each other longer. Are you reconsidering?”

“I’m weighing the options,” I tell her as we pull up to the curb outside the sports bar.

Twisting her whole body, she leans forward. “What can I do to convince you?”

“Leave me your references and let me think about it. Right now, I’m late for family dinner and daddy-daughter time.” I reach across to open her door. Giving her the position would be completely unwise when I’d much rather get her into bed. Only this nanny hunt has lasted months and I’ve gotten no closer to finding someone to look after my daughter. I can’t keep relying on Paynter and I do need the help.

Erin’s probably the best candidate Olive You Nanny has sent so far, and she does have great references. It could be ages before I find another option. I can’t exactly say no to her, for the sake of my kid, even if that means I’m going to have to deal with this attraction between us.