Winning The Nanny's Heart

Couple of nice, sweet kids. How hard could it be? Katie would have to tutor only one of them, it seemed. And the extra money would be a godsend while she was debating her next move. Not to mention, as Della had said, it wasn’t accounting. It wouldn’t be a job that would require her to remember a million details or figure out complicated tax structures. It would be almost as easy as just staying home all day, except she’d hopefully be too busy to think. If the girl was eight, it wasn’t like Katie was going to need a master’s in English to tutor her. What was that, third grade? She could handle third grade homework help. And surely the math would be a breeze for her. As much as Katie said she wanted time to think, to breathe, just the thought of all that time in her head...

She’d rather be working. Doing something that wasn’t difficult, but still kept her mind from spinning. “Sure. I’ll talk to him.”

“Lovely!” Della grinned. “I’ll give him a call quicker than a bunny running through a pepper patch.”

Della did as she’d promised, calling up Sam Millwright a second later. Katie caught only half the conversation, but it was full of “you’re going to love her” and “she’s delightful” endorsements of Katie. Della dropped Colton’s name into the conversation and that seemed to be the clincher. Della hung up the phone, then scribbled an address on a piece of paper. “Here’s his address,” she said. “He said to be there at eight thirty tomorrow morning and he’ll give you an interview.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Katie said, taking the paper. It wasn’t moving on or moving forward, but it wasn’t standing still, either, and for now, that was enough.

Chapter Two

It was only a little after eight in the morning and already Sam had resorted to bribery. “If you eat your breakfast, Libby Bear, I’ll let you have a cookie.”

Probably not the healthiest bribe, but at this point, after dealing with the kids for two hours—thanks to Henry waking up at the crack of way-too-early—Sam was desperate. Hell, most days he was desperate. Between the kids and an overly eager one-year-old golden retriever, Sam felt outnumbered, outmaneuvered and out of ideas.

“Miss Della’s cookies?” Libby asked with a wary look. “Because your cookies smell weird.”

As in eau de burned. Della Barlow had taken one look at the snack Sam had packed for the kids yesterday and baked them three dozen chocolate chip pity cookies. Thank God, because Sam couldn’t cook his way out of a paper bag. He wasn’t much good at housework or doing ponytails or answering tough questions from a still-grieving three-and eight-year-old. What he was good at was corporate real estate. Or at least he had been, until the agency he worked for went belly-up. All the profits on million-dollar deals he’d brought into the agency had been frittered away by the owner, leaving the coffers dry when it came to making the payments on their own building. Sam had walked into work last Monday and found a for-sale sign on the door, and the locks changed, most likely by the bank. All his pending deals went up in smoke as panicked clients ran off to other agents, and the commission check Sam had been counting on to pay the bills had bounced higher than a new tennis ball.

It was partly his own fault. All the signs of a business in trouble had been there, but he’d been too distracted, trying to run a household and keep the kids fed and clothed and going to bed on time, to pay attention. He’d done the one thing he couldn’t afford to do—turned his focus away from his job—and it had nearly cost him everything.

He had an interview with the agency’s biggest competitor later this morning. The problem? He had yet to find regular child care. One would think it wouldn’t be hard, but the three nannies he had met so far had been like the Three Stooges: incompetent, irresponsible and insane. He’d hired Charity Jacobs a couple weeks ago. She was okay, but not exactly Nanny of the Year, nor was she interested in taking on the job full-time. She kept saying something about needing to see her boyfriend. Half the time, Charity looked terrified to be left alone with the kids. But so far she’d kept them fed and clean, and that was more than the others had done.

On top of that, there was Libby and the constant worry about her falling behind. Third grade was a pivotal year for math skills, her teacher had said, with the kind of impending doom in her voice that suggested Libby would end up a panhandler if she didn’t grasp the basics this year. She needed a tutor and Sam needed a miracle.

Thank God Della had called yesterday and promised the perfect candidate in Colton’s little sister.

Sam liked Colton. Liked all the Barlows, in fact. He’d met Colton, half brother to Mac, Luke and Jack, at a town picnic a couple months ago. There’d been a rousing and surprisingly competitive game of cornhole, which Colton was close to winning until Sam made his final shot. The two men had laughed, then shared a couple beers and found a common ground in fishing, something Colton had done a lot of recently with his future father-in-law and his fiancée. Sam and he had hung out a few times since, now that Colton had moved to Stone Gap on a permanent basis.

Libby hopped down off the chair and started twirling. Her skirt swung out around her in a rising bell. “I want ballet lessons. Can I have ballet lessons?”

Ballet lessons. Another thing he’d have to schedule and run to. Libby made a constant argument in favor of the lessons by wearing an old, tattered ballerina dress, a Halloween costume from years ago, pretty much every day. He’d wanted Libby to wear jeans and a T-shirt to school today. Libby had thrown a fit, pitching herself onto the floor and sobbing, saying that Mommy had bought her the ballerina dress and she really wanted to wear it—

And Sam caved. He’d also caved on letting the kids watch cartoons while they ate, though Bugs Bunny and friends hadn’t exactly inspired anyone to take a single bite yet.

He glanced at the still untouched waffle on Libby’s plate. “Libby, you need to eat your breakfast so we can get to school and I can get Henry over to the community center.” He had just enough time to give the tutor a quick interview, drop the kids at school by nine and get to his interview at nine fifteen.

Libby let out a sigh that sounded way too grown-up. “We don’t have school today.”

“Of course you have school today. It’s Tuesday.”

Libby shook her head. “Miss McCarthy said we didn’t. There’s some big meeting for the teachers or something.”

Sam crossed to the fridge, moving menus and notes and drawings around until he finally found the school calendar, tacked in place by a thick magnet. He ran his finger down to today’s date—

No School. In-Service Teacher Day.

He started to curse, then stopped himself. Now what was he supposed to do? He pulled out his phone and texted Charity. No school today. Need you ASAP.

“And Uncle Ty said the community center is closed today. ’Cuz he had to fix the bathroom or something.”

“There’s no storytime today?” What else could go wrong this morning?

Libby shrugged. “Can I go play?”

“Eat your breakfast first.” While I come up with a miracle. He had forty-five minutes until his interview. Forty-five minutes to get Charity over here and interview this new girl for the tutor job.

Libby shook her head. “I don’t like those waffles. I like the ones...”

Her voice trailed off, but Sam could fill in the blank himself. She liked the ones her mommy had made, before Mommy had been killed by a drunk driver. The year and a half since then had passed in a blur, with Sam juggling a job and the kids and babysitters and his grief. He’d thought he was doing a good job, until he lost first Mrs. Rey, the best nanny in the world, who had moved to Florida to be with her grandkids, then a few weeks later, his job. He’d tried to step in and do it all, but he wasn’t much good at being two parents in one. Time, he told himself, time fixed everything.

Except when he was running late. “Libby, you need to eat because I need to—”

She stopped spinning and crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

Lately, Libby had mastered defiance. She wasn’t outright disobedient, just enough to add another stress to Sam’s day.

From his booster seat at the other end of the kitchen table, Henry let out a shriek of support. Sam turned to his son. “Hey, buddy, want to eat breakfast?”

Henry shook his head.

“Do you want something else? Just say it, buddy, and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

Henry stared at his father for one long moment. Sam waited, his heart in his throat. Maybe this time...

Instead, Henry picked up his waffle and flung it on the floor. Before Sam could react, the golden retriever dashed in and stole a bonus meal.

That made Libby laugh, while she tossed her waffle at the dog, too. “Get it, Bandit. Get it!”

“Libby—”

But she was already gone, tearing off to the living room to snatch up the TV remote and raise the volume to deafening levels. Henry saw his own opportunity for escape, and clambered down from the chair and over to the giant box of Legos that Sam had forgotten to put up on the top shelf. Before Sam could say “don’t touch that,” Henry had knocked it onto the floor, releasing a cavalcade of miniature bricks.

And then the doorbell rang.

The dog started barking. Libby started peppering her father with questions about who was there, was it Miss Della, was it the mailman, was it Barney the dinosaur. Sam closed his eyes for a too-brief second, then strode down the hall and pulled open the door.

One of the most beautiful women Sam had ever seen stared back at him, with big brown doe-like eyes peeking out from under long dark wavy hair. She wore a pencil skirt that hugged her curves, a satiny pink blouse and dark pumps that raised her from what he guessed was a normal height of about five foot three. “Uh, I’m Katie Williams,” she said, while he continued to stare. “I’m here to interview for the tutor position? I’m sorry I’m a few minutes early.”

The tutor. Of course. Already, he’d forgotten about her appointment. Maybe he was the one who should have eaten his breakfast. Or, for that matter, had a cup of coffee. Thus far, Sam was lucky he’d had enough time to throw on some clothes and brush his teeth. And given that Charity hadn’t responded to his text yet, that meant he still didn’t have anyone to watch Libby, and his interview was in less than forty-five minutes... “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I—” He threw up his hands and gave up trying to formulate any kind of excuse. How did he encapsulate months of feeling overwhelmed into one sentence? “It’s been a morning and a half. Katie Williams—Colton’s little sister, right?”

“Yes.”

Which made her probably only a couple years younger than Sam. He didn’t know why that mattered so much, but it suddenly did. “Colton’s a great guy.”

“Who’s here?” Libby skidded to a stop beside him and poked her head around the door. “Hi. I’m Libby.”

Katie bent down. “Hi, Libby. I’m Katie.” She raised her gaze and peered at the space behind Sam. “And who’s that?”

Libby turned. “Oh, that’s my little brother, Henry. He’s shy.”

Katie wiggled her fingers in Henry’s direction. “Hi, Henry. I’m Katie.”

Henry stood at the corner for a second longer, then dashed back into the living room. He never uttered a peep. Not that Sam had expected him to. Henry had almost completely stopped talking after his mother died. Sam had taken his son to doctor after doctor, spent hours searching the internet, but the conclusion was the same—Henry would talk when he was ready.

Lord, how Sam missed the sound of Henry’s voice. The curiosity in the lilting questions he used to ask. Sam’s heart ached, literally ached, for the things he had lost. The things he couldn’t change.

Libby, the more outgoing of the two kids, just kept looking up at Katie with obvious curiosity. “Do you like dogs?” Libby asked.

Katie smiled. “I love dogs.”

One point in favor of Katie Williams. Hopefully, she liked dogs with plenty of puppy energy, because he could feel Bandit nudging past him. Just as Sam reached for the dog’s collar, Bandit leaped, paws landing on Katie’s chest. She stumbled back, and for a long, heart-stopping second, Sam thought she was going to fall down his porch stairs. Visions of hospitals and lawsuits popped into his mind. He reached for her, caught her hand, just as she recovered her balance and swayed forward. But then she overcorrected, and swayed straight into his chest.

“Oh, God. I’m... I’m sorry,” she said, jerking away from him.

He knew he should say the same, but for one long second there he hadn’t been sorry at all that she had touched him. Maybe it was because he’d been alone for so long, or maybe it was because she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, but either way, a little frisson of electricity had run through Sam when Katie touched his chest. It was chased by a wave of guilt. Wendy had been dead for only a year and a half. What was he doing, reacting to another woman like that?

“I’m the one who needs to apologize. My, uh, dog is still learning his manners,” Sam said, and thought it would be a good thing if his owner remembered his. “But please come in, have a seat while we talk. I can lock Bandit up if you want.”

“Oh, no, the dog is fine. I love dogs, remember? Really.” Katie started to follow Sam into the house, with Bandit hot on her heels.

“You can come with me,” Libby said. She put her hand in Katie’s and tugged her down the hall. “My father says I gotta be nice to people who come over to the house.”

My father. Not Daddy. He hadn’t heard Daddy, or even Dad in a long time. He bit back another sigh.

“And he’s supposed to be nice, too,” Libby added, giving Sam a pointed glare.

Katie looked up at Sam and smiled. She had a nice smile. A really nice smile. “Is that so?”

“Yup. ’Cuz sometimes he’s grumpy,” Libby added, thumbing in the direction of Sam.

Sam groaned. That was the problem with kids. They said too much and always at the wrong time. “I’m not grumpy. Just...stressed.”

“How come?” Libby asked.

He ruffled his daughter’s hair. She stiffened, an almost imperceptible amount, but the distance was there. The easy relationship he’d had with his eldest had also disappeared in the last year and a half. Sam put on a bright face, pretending, as he always did, that he didn’t notice. That they were all just fine. “Because some people feed their breakfast to the dog.”

Katie bit back a laugh. “My brother used to do that.”

“Not you?”

“Of course not. I was the good one.” Katie smiled when she said that, which sent his mind spiraling down a couple paths that were not appropriate for interviewing the tutor. Yeah, he definitely had been alone too long. That was all it was.

Sam cleared his throat and gestured toward the dining room table. The kitchen was a mess—as was typical pretty much every day of the week—with dirty dishes piled in the sink, breakfast crumbs scattered across the table and countertops, and a set of muddy paw prints running circles around the table. They never used the dining room, which meant it was relatively clean, if he ignored the light coating of dust on everything. “Libby, go watch cartoons with Henry.”

“But I wanna—”

“Go watch cartoons with Henry. Please.” He prayed Libby wouldn’t argue, that she would just do what he said.

Libby stood her ground a moment longer, but then the sounds of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck drew her into the other room. Sam had a brief moment of peace in his house, which meant he’d better get this interview done fast, before Katie realized things here were actually more like a zoo, and she ran out the door, like more than one nanny he’d interviewed.

“Is there any chance you also want to be a nanny?” he asked, only half joking. Still no text back from Charity.

“I’ve never been a nanny, or a tutor,” she said. “I’m a CPA, but I’m...looking for a new direction for now. I’m in town for a couple weeks while I think about my career options.”

A CPA? What had Della been thinking? Talk about overqualified for the job.

“Do you have any experience with kids?” He should have realized that when she showed up on his doorstep. Any tutor in her right mind wouldn’t be wearing heels and a figure-hugging pencil skirt.

He glanced at his phone again. Nothing from Charity. Damn. The last thing he wanted to do was take the kids with him. He’d had to do that a few times with client appointments and the results had been...disastrous to say the least. He was still paying for the marker decorations that Henry had drawn on a custom-made leather sofa in one client’s office. It was almost impossible to carry on a conversation of any kind of substance with the kids in the room. And for him to show up at an interview with them...

He might as well kiss the job goodbye. “You know, maybe we should reschedule. This is a crazy busy morning for me. If you could come back—”

“No!” Libby’s shriek cut through the air like a knife. “No!”

Sam bolted out of the chair and charged down the hall, his heart a tight ball in his throat. He never should have left the kids alone in the living room. This was how awful things happened, and if there was one thing that would break Sam, it would be one of his kids getting hurt. Or worse. Please be okay, please be okay.

It was probably only ten yards from the dining room to the living room, but to Sam, it felt like ten thousand. “Libby? You okay?”

“Henry took my bear when I was playing with it! He’s hurting him! Tell him to stop!”

It took Sam a second to process the fact that Libby and Henry were both fine. Just engaged in a tug-of-war over a stuffed bear. Libby’s voice was at decibels usually reserved for rock concerts, the sound nearly outpaced by Henry’s screams. No words, just the frustrated screams that Sam had heard too much of in the last year and a half.

“Henry, give Libby back her bear.”

But Henry didn’t listen. Instead, he tugged harder, at the same time that Libby tugged in the opposite direction. There was a horrible tearing sound, and then an explosion of fiberfill in the air. The kids tumbled onto the carpet, each holding half a bear, like some kind of biblical division of property.

The sobs multiplied in volume. Libby was screaming at Henry and Henry was screaming back, and Sam just wanted to quit. Quit being a terrible father. Quit being the chief everything when he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Just run away somewhere that was quiet and peaceful and clean.

His wife would have known what to do. Wendy had had a way with the kids, a calming presence that seemed to bring everyone back to earth in seconds. God, he missed her, and how she could handle all these things that he sucked at. Wendy would have known whose bear that was, but Sam—Sam couldn’t even remember buying the bear.

“No!” Libby screamed again. “Look what you did, Henry! You ruined him!”

While Sam stood there, at a loss, with two kids in the throes of tantrums, Bandit ran into the fray and grabbed a chunk of bear, then darted into the corner like he’d scored a new chew toy. And Libby started to sob.

Great, just great. Now how was he supposed to fix this?

He stayed immobile, frozen with indecision, afraid of doing the wrong thing, making it worse. Katie brushed past him. “Don’t cry, Libby. I can sew this,” she said, bending down in the space between the kids. “Fix him up as good as new.”

Libby swiped at her nose with the back of her arm. “You can?”

Katie nodded while she gathered up the fiberfill and began stuffing it into the bear’s belly. Henry quieted, too, and just watched, eyes wide. “I learned how to sew when I was your age. If you want, I can teach you how.”

“He doesn’t know how to sew,” Libby said, jabbing another thumb in her father’s direction.

Katie shot Sam a grin. “Some daddies don’t and some mommies don’t. But if I teach you, then you’ll know and next time you can fix—” she tapped the bear’s decapitated head, then turned to Henry “—what’s his name?”

Henry just stared at her. His fist clenched around the puff of stuffing.

“A bear’s gotta have a name.” Katie smiled at Henry, then inched closer. Sam started to go in there, to stop her, to tell her Henry was just going to run from her, but Katie kept talking, her voice calm and soft. Mesmerizing. “When I was a little girl, I had a bear like this one. I used to get scared a lot when it was dark, and my big brother, Colton, would find my bear and bring it to me. He would tuck me in and tell me stories until I stopped being scared and I fell asleep. I shared my bear with my brother sometimes, too, and Colton even gave Willard his own nicknames. My bear was my bestest friend when I was little, and I bet this guy is your friend, huh?”

Henry nodded.

“My bear’s name was Willard, but my brother nicknamed him Patch, because he was fixed so many times he had a patch over his belly. He wasn’t near as nice as your bear. So,” Katie said, giving the bodyless bear a little tap on the nose, “what’s his name? I gotta know his name so I can fix him, and tell him it’s all going to be okay.”

Henry shifted from foot to foot. Even though Libby knew the answer, she stood silently behind Katie, staring, waiting, just like Sam was. Katie just gave Henry a patient smile.

Then, very slowly, Henry held out his hand and uncurled his tight fist. A pouf of fiberfill sprang up like a daisy in his palm. “Henry help fix George?”

Henry’s little voice rang like a bell in the quiet of the living room. Libby turned to her father, mouth agape. Sam put a hand on his chest, sure he was hearing things.

Henry had spoken. A handful of words, but to Sam, it might as well have been the Gettysburg Address. Henry had spoken—and Sam’s heart was so full, he was sure it would burst just like the bear.

Katie nodded. “Of course Henry can help. And for the record, I think George is a terrific name for a bear.”

“T’ank you,” Henry said quietly, then he dropped the puff of stuffing into Katie’s lap.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t give a damn that Katie Williams had come in here looking like she was walking into court. He didn’t give a damn that she didn’t have much, if any, experience. If she could get through to Henry, he had little doubt that she could get through to Libby, too, and restore his daughter’s love for school. Katie had brought about a miracle that no one else had. She’d shifted the tides in a family too long on a rolling ocean, and for Sam, that was résumé enough. “You’re hired.”

Chapter Three

Katie wasn’t so sure she’d heard Sam right. She was hired? Just like that?

And did she even really want the job?

She’d be with these two kids for at least an hour at a time if she became Libby’s tutor. Small children with winsome faces and those little-kid voices. The very thing she had been looking forward to, before—

Could she do it? Or would it be too painful?

Katie was still kneeling on the floor between Henry and Libby, holding the tattered remains of George the teddy bear. Libby, who seemed ten times older than her age, came over and stood in front of her. She propped her fists on her tiny hips and cocked her brown curls to one side. “Are you gonna stay?” Libby’s eyes, so like her father’s, clouded. “Just ’cuz, you know, ’cuz our mommy died and...and... I really wanna fix George.”

The naked honesty and pain in Libby’s face was almost too much to bear. Katie could see the yearning for a mother, the way that loss had impacted the little girl in a thousand ways, in the empty shadows in Libby’s eyes. Katie’s heart broke for Libby, and for little Henry, standing there silently, his thumb in his mouth, just watching her. Katie had no doubt Sam loved his kids, but he was clearly overwhelmed, and these two little ones needed someone. Being a tutor wouldn’t be all that tough, she figured, and she could help people who clearly needed help.