My cheeks are on fire.
“Wait—who are you living with?”
“Not like that—I’m his nanny.”
How is it that no one has been able to tell just from looking at me that I had a massive orgasm like one hour ago? How is it not obvious to everyone that I’m not really here? I’m in a garage, pressed up against a Land Rover, disappearing into the hypnotic rhythm of the most intense kiss of my life?
“I mean, I just started looking after his kids, but he’s my brother’s best friend.”
“Who is it?”
I don’t think I can say his name out loud right now without arching my back and moaning.
“Shane Miller,” Harley tells her.
Remi’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Shut up! From Twice Bitten?”
“From That’s So Wizard,” Harley corrects her. “And that movie with John Cena that we liked.”
Is the hum of the crowd’s chatter and the muted funky bass groove that’s blasting from the speakers really so loud that no one can hear me screaming Shane’s name in my head? God, I hope I didn’t wake up the twins. God, I hope we get to do that again.
“Wait… I thought he was married to Margo Quincey. They were so cute together on that show.”
“They got divorced after two years and she married someone else,” I snap.
“Wait. You’re living with him?”
Yes, and I’m still feeling the aftereffects of his one-handed virtuoso performance on my clitoris. Is there an Oscar category for Best Male Finger Banger? Because we have a winner.
“Not like that. I’m the nanny.”
“He has kids?”
“Yes. That’s why he hired me as a nanny. To look after his kids.”
“Awww. I love kids. Should we get mojitos?”
Both Harley and I ignore that question—me because I’m still in a garage with Shane Miller’s beautiful possessive hand on my boob and Harley because she’s been busy scanning and categorizing the entire male population of this establishment since we got here.
“Okay, there are like fifty guys here, mostly under forty, predominantly singer-songwriters like Nico, Hollywood and music industry assistant-types. Possibly a few junior music executives. A few B-list actors. I see potential in about five of them.”
None of them. I see potential in none of them.
“I say we blow this hole as soon as Nico’s set is over and you say your hellos and goodbyes, little sister, and then we head down to The Three Clubs to meet up with my friends from work. Then hit up either the Rooftop at The Standard downtown or The Exchange, because I know the DJ who’s on at midnight and I should be on the list. Depends on how we’re feeling vis-à-vis guys with degrees and jobs or whatever.”
Tired. I’m already feeling tired of all of this. I already miss the twins. I miss the house. I miss Shane, and not just because he’s such an amazing kisser.
“Is Netflix and wine really not an option?”
Remi laughs because she doesn’t know me well enough to realize that I’m one hundred percent serious, and Harley rolls her eyes because she knows me so well, she totally called this a week and a half ago.
“I knew it. I told you I’d lose you to the Westside.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m out with you.” I raise my hands in the air and do a little butt dance in my chair. “Woohoo! Friday night in Hollywood!” When can I go home?
“Actually, I think it was Jennifer Lawrence,” Remi declares. “The movie that guy was in. He’s still looking over here. Don’t look, though.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Harley is frowning at me, and I don’t blame her. I am the oldest twenty-four-year old in Los Angeles. Thank God the house music fades and my brother steps out on stage. I am so happy to see him that I almost forget that his best friend’s fingers were inside me not very long ago. Nope. Now I’m thinking about it again. The way these young women are hooting and hollering for Nico, that’s what I want to do when I think about Shane.
Shane.
He needs to see this.
I pull out my phone and take a little video of the enthusiastic female crowd and the way my brother is standing there in front of the microphone, casually tuning his guitar and smirking out over the darkness. He doesn’t say anything. He just launches into one of his upbeat fan favorites, and the hooting and hollering kicks up a decibel. Okay, I’m proud of the fucker. This is cool. I yell out, “I love you, Nico!!! Wooooo!” My brother grins in a way that tells me he heard me and recognized my voice.
I send the video as a text, to Shane, with no message. I email it to my Grammie, explaining where I am. I slide the phone into the back pocket of my jeans so I can give my brother the attention he deserves. Until I feel it vibrate. I move my phone to my lap and discreetly check the screen.
SHANE: What a stud. Guess this means you got there safely.
ME: I sent you that picture of our feet walking down Cahuenga!
SHANE: That was not evidence of your safe arrival at The Hotel Café. Those boots are really fucking hot, though.
ME: Well thank you, but they’re made for walking and they got me here safe and sound.
SHANE: Good. Have fun.
ME: You too.
SHANE: Not too much fun.
ME: You too.
“Seriously?” Harley is reading over my shoulder. “Why are you even here?”
“Sorry. Putting my phone away.”
“Like hell you are,” she whisper-yells into my ear. “I mean, what are you doing here when you should be in the bathroom taking a boob pic for sexy daddy boss?”
“I am not sending him a boob pic! I do not send boob pics.”
Right?
13
Shane
It’s almost one. I’ve been tossing and turning in bed for an hour, after a night of catching up on e-mails with Netflix on in the background, getting up to see if Willa came home every time I think I hear something, and trying to read one page of a Steve Martin book for forty-five minutes. I came this close to waking up the kids just so they could keep me company.
The lavender isn’t working anymore.
I shouldn’t have had the coffee.
I shouldn’t have had that beer.
I shouldn’t have finger fucked the nanny in my garage right before she left to see my best friend.
Everything was good and on track, and now this shit again.
It’s been hours since I heard from Willa. I keep wondering where she is. Who she’s with. How many guys are trying to get into her pants. If she’s still thinking about what happened earlier. If she still feels good about it. If she can still remember the feel of my fingers between her legs, because I can’t forget her silky warm wetness. “I want you to feel how wet I am for you.” Jesus. Was that really the same girl with the Tiger Beat magazine who kissed the back of my hand? Is it actually possible that the same woman who’s great with my kids is also a randy little minx? Am I the luckiest man alive, or is this some big test? Would having sex with Nico’s little sister mean that I pass or fail? Fuck. I may never sleep again.
“You awake?”
I open my eyes and turn my head toward the bedroom door.
She’s there.
She’s there, in my doorway, dimly backlit by the nightlight in the hallway. Wearing pajamas. Hair brushed straight and to one side.
Is she there? Am I dreaming?
She steps inside, carefully shuts the door, and tiptoes over to stand near the foot of my king-size bed.
“I just checked on the kids. Fast asleep.”
She’s here. I am the luckiest man alive. “Hi.”
“Hi. I think Summer snuck a pocket snack to bed. There are little cracker crumbs on her pillow.”
“Well…that way she’ll be able to find her way back to her pillow if she gets lost.”
“Is it okay if I sit here for a minute?”
I lift up the covers for her.
“Oh. No thanks.” She sits at the ed
ge of the foot of the bed. I sit up. Okay, maybe I am being tested. “I don’t think I should be anywhere near your amazing hands or your beautiful mouth or your probably very pretty penis right now.”
“‘Pretty?’”
“Pretty badass penis is what I meant to say.”
“That’s more like it.”
“This is weird. It seemed like a really mature thing to do when I was downstairs, but it’s weird that I just came into your bedroom, isn’t it?”
“It’s weird that it’s not weird.”
“Okay.” She sighs. “I just wanted to make sure you don’t feel bad. About what happened tonight. Because I really don’t. Whether it was a bad idea or not. Whether it happens again or not. I just want to make sure we both feel good about it.”
“Okay. I feel good about it.”
“Okay.”
She stares at the door. I don’t want her to go.
“Did you have fun? With your friends?”
“Not really. I mean, I’m glad I went. It was great to see Nico perform, and he was so happy that I was there. I’ve never seen him with a band behind him before. I’m proud of him. Did you have fun? By yourself?”
“No.”
“Are we really this lame?”
“Pfft. Lame? Speak for yourself. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m a movie star with a pretty badass penis, so I’m cool no matter what I get up to at night.”
She yawns. “Yeah. I should get to bed. I partied so hard.” She rolls her eyes.
Goddammit, I want her to get in bed with me. But not now. She’s right. When the kids aren’t here. When we can really be in bed together. Is that what she means? She stands up.
“I’ll make breakfast tomorrow so you can sleep in,” I tell her. “If you want to.”
“You sure? Did you get any sleep yet?”
I shake my head. “I will now, though.”
She smiles, so sweetly. She’s probably blushing. I wonder if she’s still wet for me, because I could be completely hard for her in three seconds.
But not now. She’s right.
“Good night,” she whispers.
Fuck it.
Before she reaches the door, I’m blocking it and my hands are up in her hair and I’m kissing her—not on the cheek, not with the intensity of earlier tonight… I’m kissing her to let her know that I’m glad she came back and I can’t wait until tomorrow to kiss her again. She’s surprised and relieved and responsive. Her hands press against my chest—not pushing me away but leaning into me. Her head falls back so I can kiss her neck and all over her beautiful clean face. “Good night,” I whisper, kissing her on the mouth one last time.
Her eyes are still closed and she’s swaying a little when I reach for the door handle to open it.
She bites her lower lip, opens her eyes, and punches my bicep on her way out.
“Badass,” she whispers.
“Damn straight.”
I stand by the door until she’s downstairs and I’ve heard the door to her room close shut, and then I check on the kids before getting back into bed.
My alarm’s set for six and I’ll sleep soundly until then, knowing that everyone is home where they belong.
* * *
“Who’s ready for more pancakes? Chocolate chip this time.” This is my third batch of pancakes this morning. First batch was plain and a little burned. Second batch was blueberry and fucking awesome. This one is weird-looking but with chocolate chips, so who cares.
“Meee!” Maple syrup is dripping from Summer’s mouth. She always claims that she’s still hungry after I’ve cooked a meal, but I’m going to win this breakfast. It might take a few hours to clean this mess, but my breakfast game is strong this morning.
Lucky barely raises his left hand, elbow on the table, like an old drunk guy ordering another bourbon. Meanwhile he can barely lift his fork to get the turkey sausage and scrambled eggs into his mouth because he’s so full.
I’ve been keeping myself busy cooking every breakfast item I can cook, to keep from sneaking into Willa’s room and crawling between her legs. That counts as good parenting, right? It’s after eight, and she’s still not up yet. Is she in the shower? Should I check?
“Can we watch Pokémon?” Summer asks as she reaches for the remote for the kitchen TV.
“Pikachu!”
“You guys are watching Pokémon now? When’d that happen?”
“Willa showed us it. It’s fun. And weird. Like Willa,” my daughter says while turning on the TV before waiting for permission.
“Yeah? What’s the show about?”
The twins start explaining something about Ash and Pikachu and adventures, but I don’t really hear a word they’re saying because Willa has just walked in wearing a casual, loose-fitting dress that hits above the knee, with bare legs and bare feet and her hair is wet. The birthday party doesn’t start until eleven, but I’m wondering if we can drop the twins off a couple of hours early. Is that wrong?
She just smiles at me from across the room and kisses the twins on their heads as they keep talking.
Should I make coffee? she mouths to me.
I nod. Yes. I want coffee. I also want to lay her out on the table and lick maple syrup off her naked body.
But not while the kids are here.
I haven’t completely lost my mind yet.
“Sounds fun,” I say once the kids have stopped talking. They could have told me they’re watching a snuff film as far as I know. I can’t stop staring at Willa’s legs.
“You sure you made enough food?” She glances over at me, grinning.
“Are you saying I shouldn’t also make waffles?”
“I want waffles!” Summer shouts out without looking away from the TV. Her plate is still piled full of pancakes, eggs, and turkey bacon.
“You guys are going to the trampoline party in a couple of hours, remember? For Riley’s birthday. Maybe don’t eat too much.”
“Oh yeah!” Lucky turns to look over at Willa. “Riley’s gonna be six!”
“Do we have birthday presents for Riley?” I ask Willa with an expression on my face that probably reads more like are you wearing panties right now, young lady?
“They’re in my room. I just wrapped them.” She smirks at me, daring me to carry her to her room and unwrap her.
I stroll over to where she’s making coffee and reach around her for a paper towel that I don’t really need. “Are you okay driving them there, or should I?” Her damp hair smells so fucking good, she must have used sexy mermaid shampoo and then rolled around in a flower bed while sultry nymphs did a striptease by her head. Jesus, what is wrong with me?
“Yeah, I was planning on dropping them off. If you don’t mind tidying up the kitchen?”
“I fully intend to take care of this mess.” And I fully intend to take care of you as soon as we’re alone in this house.
“The trampoline place is in Woodland Hills,” she says, dusting pancake mix off my chest. “They’ll be there for two hours, and then all the kids get shuttled to Riley’s house in Brentwood for lunch and cake. So we pick them up there at around two. You need to sign a waiver for the trampoline place online. Did you do that?”
I sign the waiver online, releasing the trampoline company of liability if my kids get injured. Meanwhile I’m doing some frantic sex calculations in my head—on a Saturday morning, it’ll take Willa 35 to 50 minutes to drive each way. That’ll give us maybe two hours alone together, tops. I can live with that. We can get a lot done in two hours.
Happy birthday, Riley. I can’t wait to start celebrating.
When Willa brings me a cup of her amazing coffee, she whispers, “Just letting you know in advance that I’m on the pill. So take that into consideration.”
Fuck me.
Maybe I should hire an Uber to drive the kids to Woodland Hills. People do that, right?
14
Willa
Oh my God, give a girl a break, traffic gods! Some of us have to get
home to get naked with Greyson from That’s So Wizard over here!
I accidentally lean on the horn and then wave apologetically at the driver of the car in front of me. One of five thousand cars in front of me. The 405 suddenly got completely backed up about a mile from my exit. Not funny, Los Angeles! Not cool.
I did the right thing by not dropping the kids off at the curb. I went inside the trampoline gym to make sure they were all comfortable there with their friends, made small talk with Riley’s mom and the other parents and nannies for a minute, and then bolted back to the car while visualizing all of the amazing things I want to do to Shane’s penis. I’ll be lucky if I get back to the house in the next fifteen minutes, which means I’ll only have time to do like ten awesome things to him. He deserves more. Or maybe it’s fine. Hopefully this will be the first of many penis things I’ll be able to do to him. We should probably take it slow.
Not the traffic—dammit. The traffic needs to take it much, much faster.
I accidentally honk the horn again. Shrug and wave apologetically again. I’m probably going to get shot. I need to calm down.
This is going to be the first time I have sex with a guy I actually care about.
The guy I was somewhat mildly obsessed with for my entire adolescence.
My brother’s best friend.
My employer.
Shit.
Is this the worst idea ever?
Have I lost my mind?
Telling him that I’m on the pill while his children are eating breakfast in the same room?
He must think I’m a total tramp.
I must be having an allergic reaction to his pheromones.
Maybe we should wait a few months, until I’m not working for him anymore.
I’ve waited this long. A few months of getting to know each other better as friends could only make it better when we finally…what? Bone each other a couple of times and then he’s off to do a movie with the girl from Twilight? Or Hermione? Because what actor wouldn’t rather be with them?
Sleeper Page 11
