Winning The Nanny's Heart

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He pulled a sheet out of the pile, then handed it to Katie as he sat down again. “Well, one thing I’ve learned about having kids, no matter how organized and planned you make your days, you’re never going to get everything to add up perfectly. Kids...” His voice trailed off and his gaze drifted to the sofa, where Libby and Henry were laughing at the antics of the sponge and his starfish friend. “Kids change everything.”

“Yes,” she said softly, and her hand strayed to her empty belly, “yes, they do.”

He turned back and his gaze met hers, and held, for one long second. “Thank you.”

The praise made her shift in her seat. “I haven’t even done my job yet. Why are you thanking me?”

“Because...” Sam’s face clouded and his eyes filled, and his voice grew rough. “Because you got Henry to talk. I haven’t heard his voice in a long, long time.” Then, as if the emotion was too much, Sam got to his feet and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the middle of the table. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the paper. “I’m going to write down my cell number. Call or text me if you have any problems. I’ll be back after the interview, and Charity will be here any second, so you should be fine. Libby has a folder of practice sheets in her backpack that her teacher needs her to work on. If you and Libby get along, and this works for you, we’ll talk about a schedule for the next week when I get home. Sound good?”

She rose, too, and closed the gap between them to take the paper, adding it to the one from Libby’s teacher. “Sounds good.”

His gaze dropped to her lips, then to her eyes. “And...thank you.”

She was close. Too close to him. But she couldn’t seem to make her feet move in reverse. “You...you said that already.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just...distracted.”

She wanted to ask him if that was because of her or the job interview or something else, but the doorbell rang just then. The dog started barking, the kids started shouting, and a second later, a sullen twenty-year-old was in the kitchen, and the moment was gone. Charity looked about as happy to be there as a grandparent at a death metal concert.

Sam made the introductions and filled Charity in on Katie’s role. “Call me or text me if either of you have any problems at all. I’ll be back before you know it.”

A few minutes later, Sam was gone. Charity leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her slim frame. “Good luck,” she said.

“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just third grade math and reading.”

Charity scoffed. “Yup. And with Libby, that’s about as much fun as negotiating a nuclear war. So I say again, good luck.”

Charity stalked out of the room, scooped up Henry and took him into the backyard to play on the swing set. Katie turned and saw Libby standing in the doorway, arms crossed, defiance in her eyes.

Good luck.

Chapter Four (#ue5cb3b88-5daf-51de-9b60-78b5784ddd10)

“Welcome to the team, Sam.” Hank Osborn got to his feet and put his hand out. “We look forward to working with you.”

Relief filled Sam. He had a job again. Thank God. If there was one worry that had consumed his every thought, it was how he was going to provide for his family. There was no wife to fall back on for an additional income, no partner to help pick up the slack. It was all on Sam’s shoulders, a weight that damned near seemed to kill him some days. The house, the kids, the bills, the...the loneliness. That was a place in his mind he didn’t dare dwell upon. That hole in his world, that empty spot in his bedroom, his bathroom. The way he missed Wendy’s chirpy good mornings and her sweet, whispered good nights.

Sam pushed those thoughts away. One thing at a time—right now, he had the job. That alone made him want to shout from the rooftops. Instead he settled for a professional smile and a nod of gratitude.

“When I looked back over some of your deals, I was really impressed,” Hank went on. “You did a great job negotiating that multi-property deal in Raleigh. One of my guys was trying to win that battle, but you had that creative idea to find tenants before the negotiations started, and we were out of the running before the race even started. That was one hell of a deal, son.”

“Thank you.”

“And I expect the same kind of ingenious thinking while you’re working for me. I like a man who thinks outside the box. Sound good?”

“Definitely, sir.” Sam was glad to find Hank was a lot like him when it came to getting the deal done. It was part of the reason he had liked the gregarious older man immediately. Hank had owned Osborn Properties for thirty years, and brought it from a small one-man operation up to a three-office company with two dozen brokers, serving all of North Carolina and parts of the rest of the South. It was a big step for Sam, going from the small company he’d been at before to this one. The opportunities and support structure would be better, but the performance expectations were also going to be higher.

“I’ll put you on the Midway Mall project right away,” Hank said, handing Sam a file folder. “We have five open spaces in there, and want to get them filled before the mall opens in two months. One hundred percent capacity by opening day. Nothing less. Think you can do that?”

A huge task. It would mean working a lot of hours, and he still had a shaky child care solution. But the last thing he wanted to say to his new boss was no. “Yes, sir.”

“One more thing,” Hank said as he came around the desk. He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and walked with him to the door. “Don’t call me sir. That’s for my dad or my grandpa. Around here, I’m just Hank.”

“Sounds good... Hank.” Sam shook hands with the other man one more time, then said goodbye and headed out the door. It wasn’t until he got in his car that he allowed himself a giant exhalation of relief.

The loss of his job had weighed on him like a ten-ton Mack truck. But now, with Hank’s offer—even if it came wrapped up in some pretty high expectations—that weight had been lifted. He had a job, Libby had a tutor—a beautiful and capable tutor at that—and life was finally improving, a little at a time.

He wound his way through the bucolic, hilly roads of Stone Gap, mentally running through a list of potential clients to call for the mall project. If he could talk to Charity and convince her to sign on long-term for babysitting, then achieving Hank’s goal was doable. Plus, if things had gone well with Katie today, then all the better—it would get Libby back on track in math and reading, and reduce the number of arguments he had with his daughter.

Not to mention how Katie had transformed his little family in the space of a morning. Sam could still hear the echoes of Henry’s voice in his head. His son had turned a corner today, thanks to Katie Williams, and it was one that Sam hoped spelled good changes ahead.

Such a small thing, one that too many people took for granted, but oh, how he never would again. He owed Katie something huge—something impossible to grasp—for bringing his little boy back from the world of silence. Even if it was only a tiny step forward, and lasted only a moment, Sam would be eternally grateful.

For the first time in a long time, Sam allowed himself an emotion he thought had died in that car accident with Wendy—

Hope.

He pulled into the driveway, parked the car, then got out and paused a moment in the driveway. The sound of children laughing, of Bandit barking, filled the air.

Life was good. In this moment, in this space. It was something he’d been trying to work on—learning to appreciate the small moments. After the dark days he and the kids had gone through, every small moment seemed like a miracle.

Sam allowed himself another smile, then circled around through the side gate to the backyard. “Sounds like you guys are having a great—”

His step faltered. For several long seconds, he was sure he was seeing things. But no, there was Katie, mud-spattered, her hair a wild jumble around her head, trying to clean up a spilled pot of red finger paint on the patio, while Henry and Libby ran barefoot through the grass, taking turns aiming the hose at each other and the dog.

“You’re home!” Katie got to her feet, and brushed at her hair with the back of her hand, but all that did was smear a long streak of red paint across her temple. “That’s so...great.”

He tried not to laugh at the paint on her face, the clear relief in her features. He glanced around the yard again, and when he noticed one less person than he’d left here this morning, alarm bells went off in his head. “Where’s Charity?”

“She’s inside. She said she had to make a call.”

He’d had a feeling Charity wasn’t going to last long when he hired her, but he’d hoped she would at least make it until he found a suitable replacement. He’d have to talk to her about taking personal calls when he was paying her to watch his kids. “Did the kids dip her in paint and mud, too?”

“No. That was all my doing.” Katie laughed. “After Libby and I finished working on her math, I got them the paints because they were complaining that they were bored, and I didn’t want to just park them in front of the television. I asked Charity, and she said she thought it was a good idea to do a craft. Except I’m not exactly the crafty type.” Katie gave him a sheepish grin. “Libby got paint on her hands and wanted to clean it off, but I didn’t think you’d want her to do that in the bathroom sink, so I turned on the hose and...” She waved at the yard and grimaced.

Sam could read that look of being overwhelmed from a mile away. How many times had he felt totally over his head when it came to the kids? He’d been so used to putting it all into Wendy’s hands, into letting her take the lead while he worked too many hours. When his wife was gone and the family who had hovered over him for the first two weeks after she died had left, Sam was left floundering, beleaguered and clueless.

A lot like Katie looked right now. Actually, she looked kind of cute with the mud and paint peppered all over her shirt and skirt. She’d kicked off the heels, and there was something about her bare feet on the grass that just seemed...sweet. A part of him wanted to just draw her against his chest and kiss that spot of paint right above her brow.

“Come on,” he said to Katie, waving toward the door. “Why don’t you go inside and clean up? I’ll corral the wild beasts and then we’ll all get some lunch.”

“Are you sure? I can clean up this mess out here first.”

“I can handle it. Don’t worry.”

Katie gave him a grateful smile, then headed inside. Sam watched her go for a moment, then dragged his gaze away from the intriguing woman crossing his yard.

The guilt washed over him again. He shouldn’t be concentrating on anything other than his kids and his job right now. The kids needed him—needed a parent who kept his crap together, not one who got distracted by a pretty woman with mud on her face.

He headed for the kids, reached out and took the hose from Libby just before she turned it on her brother again. Both kids were dripping wet, sodden messes from head to toe. He was about to chastise them, when he looked down and realized something else.

Both kids were happy. Goofy grins filled their eyes and brightened their cheeks. “We had fun!” Libby said. “Can we do that again?”

Beside her, Henry nodded. His face was a blur of paint, half of it smeared by the water and now running crimson into his orange T-shirt. There was no trace of the somber, withdrawn boy who had appeared the day Sam had sat on the sofa and hugged his kids to him and told them Mommy was never coming home again.

He glanced over his shoulder at the house. It was amazing what a few hours of Katie in their lives could do. And that was a very good thing.

* * *

When the pain hit her, it hit her hard and fast.

For three days, Katie had been coming to Sam’s house for an hour or two at a time after school, to work with Libby. They had slowly winnowed down the pile of papers her teacher had sent home and she had nearly mastered her times tables. Then, when they were done with schoolwork, Katie would draw with both kids, a break Charity seemed to welcome, because the nanny immersed herself in her phone the second Katie appeared. Maybe because Charity was there a longer portion of the day, picking up Henry from storytime at the community center and watching him until Libby got home from school.

The kids had kept clamoring for more finger painting, so Katie had finally caved today. This time without the need to hose off in the yard.

Everything had been going fine until Charity announced she was quitting. She said she’d gotten a call back from a job at the mall, and was done being a nanny. She was gone two minutes later, leaving a stunned Katie alone with the kids for a half hour until Sam came home.

It was in that thirty minutes that things had changed. Maybe it was because it was just the three of them, or maybe the kids were starting to bond with Katie, but just as she was helping Libby mix up some purple paint, Henry had leaned in and put his head on Katie’s arm.

A simple movement, really. She’d looked down and seen this little boy curving into her like he’d known her all his life. Then Libby turned to Katie and said, “Our mommy used to draw with us. I’m glad you do, too.” A pause, then Libby’s eyes met hers, wide and serious. “Are you gonna stay, Katie?”

Katie glanced up and saw Sam standing there, his face filled with a mixture of surprise and something unreadable.

Katie had scrambled out of the seat, made up an excuse about needing to clean up, then barreled toward the bathroom. One second she was soaping up her hands, and the next, a sharp fissure pierced her chest. Her breathing tightened, her heart crumpled into a fist and tears rushed into her eyes. She braced her still dirty hands on either side of the sink, heedless of the soapy, purplish drops puddling on the tile below.

She glimpsed her face in the mirror, looking harried and messy and so out of her normal buttoned-up world. This is what a mom looks like, her mind whispered, and these are the kinds of things a mom does.

Wham, the pain had hit her.

She wasn’t a mom. She might never be a mom. The one chance she’d had to be a mother, her body had failed...no, she had failed. She’d lost the baby and all those hopes and dreams she’d had. What had made her think she could be here, around these kids, and not be reminded of that fact? Maybe she should tell Sam she couldn’t tutor Libby. Or maybe she should just keep working here, because maybe it would force her to confront all those things she had run from.

Yeah, and considering how often in her life she’d confronted any of the things that bothered her, those chances were pretty slim.

A light rap sounded on the door. “You okay in there?” Sam’s voice, warm and concerned. Just four words, but they seemed to ease the tightness in her chest.

Katie released her grip on the porcelain, drew in a breath, then nodded at her reflection. Another breath, then she could speak. “Yeah, just cleaning up.”

“Okay. Just checking. I was afraid you might have climbed out the window and run off, especially since Charity quit.”

That made her laugh. “Nope, I haven’t left. Not yet.”

“That’s good.”

She paused, sensing Sam lingering outside the door. A moment later, she heard the fading sound of footsteps as he headed back down the hall. She finished rinsing and drying her hands, then emerged from the bathroom. In the kitchen, Sam was bent down, Libby standing before him, with one of the pictures she had painted that day in her hands. Libby’s face held a hushed hesitancy.

Katie’s chest squeezed. In a split second, she was eight years old again, standing in front of her mother with a test she’d brought home from school. Her first A in math class, decorated with a giant smiley face sticker. She’d wanted her mother to be as proud as Mrs. Walker had been, wanted to hear those same words you did it, kiddo.

“This is awesome, Libby Bear,” Sam said to his daughter, taking the picture and pointing at the center. “I love the rainbow. And the flower.”

Libby frowned. “I thought the flower was kinda messy.”

Sam cupped his daughter’s cheek. “It’s not messy. It’s perfect.”

Katie waited for that echoing grin of pride to appear on Libby’s face, for her to acknowledge she’d heard the words she wanted to. The you did it, kiddo.

Instead, Libby shook her head and stepped back. “It’s not! It’s messy!”

She yanked the picture out of her father’s hand and dashed out of the kitchen. The screen door closed behind her with a hard slap. Sam watched her go, then let out a long sigh and slowly straightened.

He turned and saw Katie. “Sorry about that. Sometimes Libby is...” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”