I shut the cutlery drawer, lean back against the counter, and shove my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “Well, I hope you get whatever you want.”
“Thanks.” She shrugs and smiles at me. “I’m gonna go work on a logo for my store. In my room.”
“Yeah, cool.”
“Yeah.”
She is so fucking pretty, and I’ve never noticed how quiet it is at night in this house before. All I can hear is the hum of the refrigerator, her uneven breaths, and my pounding heart. When she starts taking slow steps toward me, my heart beats even faster. She tilts her head and reaches one arm out, and holy shit this is happening.
Her hand reaches just past my head. “Sorry. I just need a glass of water to take to my room.”
“Oh.” I step aside. “Good idea.”
She opens the cupboard that was right behind me and grabs a glass.
I stay exactly where I am, watching her beautiful ass as she crosses to the refrigerator to use the water dispenser.
When she turns back to face me, she says, “Okay, good night.”
“Good night.” My hands grip the edge of the counter, when all they really want to do is grab on to that beautiful ass.
Holding her glass of water, she walks toward me again, smiling. Before I can step out of the way, she stops right in front of me, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses me on one cheek and then the other. She pauses. I loosen my grip on the counter. “Sorry. It’s what the French do.” She lowers herself back down, avoiding eye contact. “I guess I shouldn’t do that again.”
I loosen my grip on my sanity just a little and mutter, “Probably not. Are both people supposed to kiss both cheeks?”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine. She nods, just barely, holding on to her glass with both hands. I look down and see ripples in the water. Her hands are trembling.
“I want to get this right, then,” I say as I hook one finger under her chin to tilt it up. I lean down to kiss her right cheek, soft and slow. I spread my fingers to gently grip the back of her neck as I kiss her left cheek, hearing the quiet gasp by my ear and feeling it all over. I inhale the subtly hypnotic scent of her and whisper, “Did I do that right?”
“Mmmmhunh.”
I let go, pull back. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted. If there was ever a girl who I should kiss on the lips and a moment for me to kiss her, it’s this girl right now. But I don’t.
“Good night.”
“Good night,” she says, eyes still closed, standing still. And then she shakes her head and opens her eyes, clears her throat. “Good night.”
And then she’s gone.
I stay exactly where I am until I hear the door close down the hall.
I stay where I am, and if that door opens again, nothing is going to stop me from going through it.
But it doesn’t.
And I don’t.
SHANE MILLER SLEEP DIARY – Thursday morning
Went to bed at: Before ten.
How long it took you to fall asleep: Not long.
How many times you woke up in the middle of the night: Not once.
How refreshing your overall sleep was: Very. Slept eight hours straight. Probably in large part due to the essential oil thing that my kids and the nanny mixed together for me. Woke up five minutes before my alarm to the sound of laughter from the kitchen and the scent of the most amazing coffee I have ever smelled.
Number of caffeinated beverages you consumed throughout the day: Not gonna lie to you, Dr. Shaw. I had a cup of that amazing coffee this morning. And I have zero regrets. If I can only have one vice at this point in my life, it will be caffeine. More specifically, it will be the caffeinated beverage brewed by the new nanny. Never had anything like it. Works on every level. Still feeling it, hours later.
Number of alcoholic beverages you consumed throughout the day: Still none. Yeah, I really need to stay away from alcohol.
How much time you spent exercising: One hour. Wanted to punch my trainer in the dick and dropkick him out of my house. For reasons. But other than that I’m starting to feel like my usual relatively happy self again.
Your stress level before bedtime, on a scale from 1 to 5: 3?
Your major cause of stress: Being a fucking good guy.
WILLA TODD SCENT DIARY – Friday afternoon
Had the twins help me cut some lavender sprigs from the front yard. There are now pretty little relaxing lavender bouquets in every room of the house. Until Summer decides there are too many of them and throws them out.
Took the twins to the beach after school while Shane was having a coffee meeting in the village with some director. It’s a good beach. Very few people, although I guess it’s not that surprising on a Thursday afternoon in March.
I asked Summer and Lucky to tell me what they could smell there. They said, “stinky toots.” They aren’t wrong. The bacteria that eat dying plankton produce a sulfur compound through the digestion process. That sulfur helps with cloud formation and controls the planet’s temperature. It’s amazing.
The faint smell of actual sewage didn’t even bother me, maybe because the salty air was coating my nostrils. And because I knew I’d see Shane again in an hour.
I feel good.
I like it here.
One day I’ll want to create a scent that evokes my memories of this time in the Palisades, but thinking of a time when I won’t be here makes me sad. It has only been a few days, but this already feels like a place I could call home. I swear, it’s that feeling I had when Shane held my hand twelve years ago. It’s not something I’d ever try to explain to him, but I can admit it to myself. I guess I had assumed it would be something else, but if it was about me being a nanny to his kids, then I don’t mind. It’s nice.
I’m working on the Margo scent. I really fucking hope she doesn’t actually want to call it Margo, but if we’re taking wagers—my money is on “Margo.” She asked for cherry blossom essential oil as an ingredient. Told me she has “lovely memories” of being a girl in Manhattan during cherry blossom season. So fucking lovely. It’s not possible to make essential oil from cherry blossoms, but I can formulate something that evokes it. Using Osmanthus, ylang ylang, sweet orange. She definitely wants something fruity and floral. She needs something more earthy, but who am I to tell her that.
What I really want to do is create a scent for Shane. He’s been on his best behavior since the first night. Unfortunately. If I can’t rub myself all over him, then I at least want him to wear something that I’ve created on his skin and for it to make him feel all of the amazing things that I want to make him feel. Like a man. Like a wanted man. Like the kind of man who’d step into the shower with his nanny when the kids are at school—because hey, life’s short and this nanny’s a lot dirtier than he thinks she is.
10
Willa
“What does a banana do when it sees a chimpanzee coming?”
Summer and Lucky just stare ahead, frowning. Shane bites his lower lip and shrugs his shoulders.
“The banana splits!”
Shane shakes his head, smiling. The twins just keep staring ahead at the chimpanzee exhibit. Tough crowd. We’re at the LA Zoo for a fun Saturday outing, but something passed between Summer and Lucky at the meerkat exhibit, and now they’re having what Shane refers to as a “twin fight.” It reminds me a lot of the fights that Nico and I had when I was five and he was nine, but quieter and more intense. Minus the name calling and wet willies. Summer is two minutes older than her brother, and she milks it for all it’s worth.
They both napped on the way here, since it took an actual year to get to this Griffith Park location from the Palisades. So, I thought they’d be in a better mood. But nope. They’ve been complaining about the animal poo smell—which I personally like and find quite relaxing and earthy—and they don’t feel like walking, but they also don’t want to be rolled around in rented strollers or carried like babies. Not even the highly un-Margo-approved churros are floating their boats. S
hane muttered to me that it will blow over eventually, but I won’t give up that easily. This is one of the nicest zoos I’ve ever been to, and it’s a beautiful spring day, and I’m happy to be here with Shane (who is wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses and looks exactly like a handsome star who’s trying to go incognito), and I want everyone to be happy.
“What did the banana say to the chimpanzee? Nothing! Bananas can’t talk! Wokka wokka. No? Not even a little smile?”
All of a sudden, for no reason that I can see, Summer whacks her brother on the head with her churro. Lucky basically growls into her face, and it turns into a shoving match. I grab Summer, Shane grabs Lucky, and we pull them apart.
“Hey!” Shane says. “Knock it off.”
“She started it!”
“You started it by being a poopie doopie head!”
They both scrunch up their faces and stick their tongues out at each other.
Shane and I signal to each other that we’re going to separate them for a bit.
“Come with me, little lady.” I take Summer’s hand and drag her away. “We do not hit people with churros or shove them when we’re angry,” I say to her firmly but quietly. “Got that?”
“He’s so dumb!”
“I don’t think he is, but why don’t you tell me why you’re mad at him.”
She stops in her tracks, throws her churro on the ground, balls her little hands up into fists, and growls just like Lucky did.
“Okay, you know what?” I pick up the big stick of deep-fried dough, take her hand again, toss the churro into the nearest trash bin, and pull her over to a nearby bench. “Sometimes when we’re really mad at someone, we can’t find the words to talk about it right away, and that’s fine. But we have to find other ways to get rid of the anger that don’t hurt anyone or anything. Do you feel mad?”
“Yes!”
“You feel it all over your body?”
“Yes! And it’s his fault!”
“Well, let’s figure out a way to get that mad feeling out of your body.”
I hop up from the bench. “When I feel angry, I do this.” Fortunately, I’m not wearing tight jeans for once, so I jump around on the pavement in front of her and kick and punch the air with absolutely no regard as to whether or not any other zoo patrons are watching me, because fuck ’em. This is an important life lesson. And then I just fling my arms around while jumping up and down. “This feels really good!”
Soon, Summer is jumping up and down and kicking and punching the air next to me.
“Good! Don’t you feel better?”
She’s smiling now.
“Now fling your arms around like this to get rid of the rest of that energy!”
She does just that.
I stop jumping. “Better?”
She stops jumping and nods her head. “You’re weird.”
“Yes, I am. But you aren’t mad anymore, are you?”
She shrugs her shoulders and then shakes her head.
“Good. I feel great. And you know what I feel like doing?”
“What?”
I look around quickly to make sure I’ve got room, and then I do a cartwheel. I’m fucking awesome at doing cartwheels, and I’ve got so much pent-up sexual energy that I will do literally anything to work it off so I don’t start dry humping their dad’s leg in the reptile house. I execute a perfect cartwheel, except that my blouse drops to my neck while I’m upside-down. Fortunately, I’m wearing a bra. Unfortunately, it’s not a family friendly bra. I pull my shirt down as soon as I’m right side up.
“I saw your undies!”
I swing around to see if anyone else saw and find Shane standing about twenty feet away, with an expression on his face that is caught somewhere between what the fuck is wrong with you? and show me that fucking bra again right now.
I regret nothing.
“You know how to do a cartwheel?” I turn to ask Summer, but Summer’s eyes have lit up and she gasps when she sees something that is not me.
“Abby, Abby, Abby!” She runs over to a little girl who’s walking next to a woman who is blatantly eye-fucking Shane.
“Yaaaaah!” the little girl who must be Abby exclaims as she runs over to Summer and they jump up and down in front of each other. Lucky runs over to them too, and there doesn’t seem to be any trace of animosity left between the twins.
I, however, have very quickly developed some animosity for this blonde woman with blown-out hair and a fake tan, probably fake boobs, and tight white jeans—I mean come on… Tight white jeans at the zoo on a Saturday afternoon?
I take a seat on the bench and monitor the kids in my peripheral vision while keeping a closer eye on this woman who keeps tossing her hair, putting her hand on Shane’s arm, and throwing her head back when she laughs. She must be a single mom. Well, isn’t that cute. A single mom and a single dad at the zoo. How fucking perfect.
I thought it was so funny how overprotective Shane was being when his personal trainer was flirting with me at the house the other day, but this feels really shitty.
I mean, that’s probably what he needs—a rich, fake-boobed single mom who probably used to be married to some other actor.
Shane keeps glancing over my way, but he’s wearing sunglasses so I can’t see his eyes, and he is such a friendly guy that I cannot for the life of me tell if he wants me to rescue him or not. Because I would very much like to rescue him. Or rescue myself from this terrible situation.
Shane waves me over to come join him. I’m by his side in less than two seconds.
“This is our new nanny, Willa. Willa, this is Abby’s mom,” he says, and I can tell from the way he says it that he doesn’t remember her name.
“Hey, Willa,” she says, offering me a limp handshake. “I’m Jillian.”
You used about three too many spritzes of Calvin Klein Obsession today, Jillian, but you have a vintage bottle—good for you. “Nice to meet you, Jillian. Looks like the twins are pretty fond of Abby.”
“Yes, they get along great. Well, you should bring the twins over for dinner,” she says, touching Shane’s arm again. Somebody came to the zoo on a single dad safari. Can’t say I blame her. “I bet you could use a good home-cooked meal.” She whips out her phone. “How about next Saturday? We can take the kids to a matinee first. Make a day of it.”
“Actually, you can come to our house if you want—the two of you. We’ve got a nice view of the sunset at dinnertime.”
Our house.
He puts his arm around my shoulder, just for a second, but he makes a point. “Willa here is kind of an amazing cook. She uses a ton of butter, but we like it anyway. Dinnertime is fun at our place.”
Our place.
“You’re welcome to join us sometime.” I give her my best hostess smile.
Us.
Jillian’s coral-stained lips are sticking to her bleached-white teeth, but I can tell she wants to kill me, and I am fine with it.
“Yeah, we’d love to have the two of you over for dinner. Sometime.”
Jillian puts her phone away. “Fantastic. Sounds fun. Let’s go, Abby! Time to go! Great to see you, Shane.” She nods at me, grabs her daughter, and strides away in her four-inch mules.
“Can we see the giraffes now?” Lucky asks. He and his sister are holding hands, and it’s pretty much the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Let’s go find those giraffes,” Shane says.
All I really want to do is drag him to the reptile house and dry hump him, but I get a shot of the twins holding hands in front of us to send to their mother later.
“Well, I sure hope Jillian takes you up on your offer,” I say as we stroll down the path to the giraffes.
“Sorry. I didn’t know how else to get out of that.”
“No, I think you chose the perfect way. Happy to be your friendly domestic cockblocker.” I give him a side-glance.
He’s grinning, and he’s so hot in that baseball cap and those sunglasses, but instead of dragging him to
the reptile house, I bump against his arm with my arm. Classic move from the handbook of seduction techniques for eight-year olds.
He does it back to me. And then he rests his arm on my shoulder again. Not in a sexy way—in the way that my brother would. But still. We’re in public. We’re with the kids. I’ll take it.
And then I hear his back pocket vibrate. He uses his other hand to check who’s calling. When he removes his arm from my shoulder, I know immediately who it is.
“Yo, superstar!” I hear my brother say. Talk about a cockblocker. He must have sensed that a man was touching me.
“What’s up?…No, we’re at the zoo, actually. Wanna join us?…Oh yeah, is that next week?”
I catch up to the twins so Shane can feel free to converse without me eavesdropping. “What’s your favorite animal here so far?” I ask them.
“Lucky!” Summer says, lifting their connected arms up in the air.
“Summer!” her brother says.
“Awww, you’re my favorites too!”
Shane catches up with us, sliding his phone back into his pocket. But instead of putting his arm around me again, he walks on the opposite side of the twins from me.
“Is my brother coming to join us?”
“No. He was just calling about his show next Friday.”
“Oh yeah… Are you going to that?”
“I mean…are you going?”
“Well, one of us should probably look after these guys, right? You should go.”
“But you haven’t had a night off yet.”
“I just started working for you.”
“You probably haven’t seen your brother play in ages, though.”
“No. I haven’t.”
Sleeper Page 9
