Good Boyfriend: A Love Story (The Bad Nanny Trilogy Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

“We'll pick them up after and …” Her mom sighs as Brooke's dad studies me like he's trying to figure out the best way to bury my body. Ouch. Not a good start to our first meeting. “Then we'll drop by Ingrid's.”

  “It stopped being Ingrid's when she fled the country with her boyfriend,” Brooke says blandly, stepping forward and slipping her feet into her flip-flops. I grab my paint spattered shirt and tug it over my head and step into my boots. “But fine. We'll see you after school.”

  She reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me around the stunned looking couple and out the front door.

  “That didn't go well, did it?” I ask as Brooke unlocks the doors to her car and then hands me the keys. I imagine we'll be listening to angry, screeching metal music all day. S'okay. I suppose if there was ever an appropriate time for it, it'd be after your elderly parents walk in and catch you sucking some dude's cock.

  “Not really, no,” she whispers, face as pale as a ghost's as we climb into the car and back down the driveway. “How long were they standing there?”

  “Um, based on their expressions, I'm pretty sure they came in just before you said you liked sucking the big D.”

  “Sounds about right. That's Murphy's law, after all. Couldn't have been ten minutes before when we were sleeping, or ten minutes after when we were done, could it?”

  “Um, you mean like, forty or fifty minutes after,” I correct, and at least I get a smile for that one. “What do you think they'll do when they find out we're moving in together?”

  “Probably hire someone to kill you and dump your body in a ditch somewhere,” she says nonchalantly.

  “If I told you I was surprised by that, I'd be lying,” I say, taking advantage of a red light to lean over and press a kiss to her cheek. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, we can always run away to Las Vegas and never come back.”

  “Don't tempt me,” Brooke says, but at least she's still smiling, not an easy feat for someone whose parents just caught them naked and performing oral sex. But then an agonizing groan escapes her throat and she leans forward, pillowing her forehead on her knees. “That's far and above the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me.”

  “Look on the bright side: at least it's done and out of the way. There, you survived the most embarrassing thing you'll ever have to deal with. The rest of life is just downhill from here.”

  “You're too optimistic for this early in the morning,” Brooke mumbles, but she sits back up and turns in her seat, leaning against the window so she can get a good, long look at me. “They'll never forgive you for this.”

  I shrug.

  “I'll never forgive them for letting you leave So Cal and move back here. Guess that makes us even, huh? I think my indiscretion's a little easier to forgive, don't you?”

  Without asking, I pull into a Dutch Bros. to order us some coffee. Brooke's got class; I've got to grab Rob's van and start moving shit over to the duplex.

  It's gonna be a long fuckin' day.

  Especially because I've got this idea in my head that just won't quit.

  This really, really stupid idea.

  Stupidly brilliant, that is.

  When Brooke gets back from her finite population sampling class (whatever the hell that is), she's already in a state, pacing a rut in the living room carpet as Hubert crouches on the back of the sofa and glares at her with white-green eyes. I made sure to put the sweater on that says Practice Safe Sex on the back. That should just about do it with Brooke's parents, don't you think?

  As she spins in a circle, her ugly camel colored coat swings out behind her. Today's ensemble includes pink ballet flats, black skinny jeans, and a Power Rangers shirt that I think she accidentally stole from Bella. It's too small, leaving a pretty big swath of bare belly between the bottom of the tee and the top of her pants.

  Obviously, I find it ridiculously, stupidly goddamn adorable.

  “Do you want something to eat? I Googled how to make fish and chips today, saw how ridiculously hard it is to properly deep-fry something, and then grabbed a few boxes of frozen fish sticks to bake.”

  “No thanks,” she says with a tight smile, pausing at the sound of a tiny knock on the front door. Smoothing her hands down the front of her borrowed t-shirt, Brooke moves over to open it, and I try the casual bad boy lean against the archway into the kitchen. You know the one: arms crossed over the chest, shoulder propped against the wall, legs out to one side with ankles crossed. Classic move. Makes me look badass as fuck.

  “Aunt Brooke, Grandma and Grandpa are here!” Grace chortles, racing into the house first and freezing when she sees me. Her eyes get big and her mouth gapes for a second, and then she's throwing herself at my legs. I pick the blonde haired, blue eyed little demon up and swing her in a circle, briefly forgetting how tough and cool I'm supposed to be looking right now.

  “Hey guys, come on in,” Brooke says, trying to be cheerful as she gestures her parents into the bare ass living room with the gray pilling couches. I guess I have to leave most of my furniture behind in Vegas, but damn I hate these things. Maybe we should just leave them here and I can use my credit card to buy us some new ones?

  Hubert hisses at the Overlands which, you know, doesn't help them feel anymore comfortable as they shuffle into the living room together with Bella between them. She waits until I'm done twirling Grace around like a swing dancer before bringing her daily report card over to me. This has sort of been our thing, trying to get and maintain a perfect one hundred percent. I've been signing 'em and sending them back for her, something she said her mother never did. Poor kid.

  “I did it again,” she whispers, passing the paper over to me so we can share a secret smile. I give her a high five as Brooke's parents stare at me like I'm up to something nefarious over here. Maybe it's the hairless cat? Don't villains often have hairless cats? Or is that just in Austin Powers movies?

  “Do you guys want anything to drink? I'm trying my hand at iced tea today. Apparently it's as easy as boiling water and pouring it over tea bags. It's been chillin' in there for a few hours now.” It's supposed to kind of be a joke, but nobody in the room is smiling except for me.

  “Zayden,” Brooke says, slipping her coat off and tossing it over the back of the smaller couch. Neither of her parents looks twice at her outfit which is kind of funny. Must mean they're used to Brooke's eclectic sense of style, right? “I'd like you to meet Lynda and Todd Overland.”

  I consider making a joke about how nice is to meet them with all my clothes on, buuuut I have a feeling that wouldn't go over well either.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Zayden Roth, my boyfriend.”

  “You mean the nanny?” her mom says with a sarcastic pinch to her lips. It's pretty clear nobody here's going to be shaking my hand today. I try to be understanding considering all the things they've been going through lately, but it's not easy.

  “Hey,” I say to the girls, bending down so that I'm at eye level with them. “I'm making fish and chips right now. You guys want to go jump on the trampoline while the food cooks? I'll call you in when it's done.”

  “A three year old on a trampoline?” Brooke's mother asks, clearly disapproving. “Do you know how many injuries those things cause every year? It could kill a child that small. Gracie, come here and sit on grandma's lap.”

  Grace stares at the other older woman for a moment and then turns and flees through the kitchen on Bella's heels.

  “For real?” I ask, raising my pierced brow at Lynda. I slip my phone from my pocket and start a search for trampoline injuries in children. “My brother and I practically lived on our trampoline as kids.”

  Brooke's mother ignores me completely.

  “Children have softer bones than adults, Brooke,” Lynda says, her silver-blonde hair twisted up into a fancy knot at the back of her neck. The dad, Todd or whatever his name is, has dark brown hair just like his daughter, turning gray-white at the roots. He sits there sternly, but he doesn't bother to say anything. I can't decid
e if that's just because his wife's in charge or if it has something to do with his condition.

  Best to just stay out of it, I guess.

  “If they're going to be out there at all, then they really shouldn't be out there without supervision,” Lynda says finally, when it's clear her daughter's not going to answer. She stands up and Todd follows, the two of them looking down at Dodger like it's Brooke's fault he's a little monster. It was her sister that bought the damn dog. Whatever faults he has now were ingrained in him during puppyhood. And then when he mounts my leg and I shake him off, they look at me like I'm the one with the problem.

  “Hey, no worries, you guys sit in here and talk and I'll watch the kids.”

  “That won't be necessary,” Lynda says with a tight smile, moving past me and taking her husband with her. There's a brief moment after they step outside where Brooke and I are alone.

  “Damn,” I say as I slip my phone back in my pocket, “I had no idea trampolines were, like, that fucking dangerous. Nobody ever watched me or Rob, and we were always doing crazy shit like having backflip contests off the roof. You want me to get rid of it?”

  “No, no,” Brooke says with a long sigh, shoving her hair over her right shoulder and pausing to smile at me. “No, it's fine. Look, they can't deal with the kids on their own, so they have no choice but to accept my help. Either they suck up their complaints and deal with the way I like things done or they can fly over to wherever it is that Ingrid's staying now and beg on their hands and knees for her to come back.”

  Brooke reaches down and takes my hand, dragging me outside and onto the damp surface of the deck. Grace is already sitting outside the trampoline, slumped over on the bottom step of the deck with tears streaming down her face.

  “One at a time, Grace,” Lynda says as Bella jumps much less enthusiastically now that she's lost her playmate. I mean, I get safety and all that, but this totally blows. I kind of wish the Overlands would just get on a plane and go back to Scotland. No wonder Brooke was so damn repressed. “Do you want to spend Christmas in a body cast?”

  “Mom,” Brooke says, trying to get the woman's attention as she stands beside the trampoline and watches her eldest granddaughter jump with stern eyes. Todd sits down on the step next to Grace and rubs his hand in a small circle on her upper back. I decide that when it comes to Brooke's parents, I definitely prefer her dad. “We're moving all our stuff out this week.”

  “What?” Lynda asks incredulously, looking at Brooke like she's an idiot. “How are you going to do that? You haven't given time for a proper notice. You know your father and I cosigned on the lease here.”

  “Yes, I'm aware of that,” Brooke says slowly, her hands slowly curling into fists by her sides. Watching her, I can see the dilemma. It's not that her parents are bad people per se, just … like, fucking clueless. They have no idea that the things they say and do affect their youngest daughter so badly. If I ever have kids I hope to God I'm not that goddamn blind. “But I also can't afford the rent.”

  “Monica said you were waitressing?” Lynda asks, as if the idea of that somehow bothers her. Or maybe it's just me and my presence here. “What happened to that job? Did you get fired the other night for not showing up to work?”

  Ah. Shots fired, Ms. Overland. Shots fired.

  “You mean when Zayden and I showed up soaking wet after being gone all night? No, that's not when I got fired. I lost my job the night before because I told the manager of the strip club that I refused to do lap dances.”

  Uh-oh.

  Well-played though, very well-played.

  “Lap dances?” Brooke's dad chimes up suddenly. “That's what we saved our whole lives for, so you could go to college and then whore yourself out at a strip club?”

  “What else was I supposed to do?” Brooke says, raising her voice suddenly. “You know what it's like around here. There are hardly any jobs, and the ones that are around don't give a fuck that I have classes five days a week.”

  “Don't you dare curse at me,” Todd says, standing up and looking rather imposing for a guy in khaki shorts and socks with sandals. “I raised you better than that.”

  “You raised me to live in Ingrid's shadow. Well, it worked. Here I am, taking care of her children while she—” Brooke pauses when she realizes that both kids are now staring right at her, eyes wide, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Goes on vacation,” she says instead, all of that passionate rage dying on her lips. “Zayden's brother owns a duplex. He's giving us a good deal on the rent, plus a free month for cleaning the place up.”

  “Who is us?” Todd asks, giving me a steely-eyed glare. I decide to return it with a wink and a smile. You know, flies with honey and all that shit.

  “Zayden, me, and the girls. Because until Ingrid comes back, I am in charge. Not you, not Mom, not Aunt Monica, but me.” Brooke pauses her rant for a moment to take a deep breath. “Now, Grace, you can get back on the trampoline as long as you guys don't do any backflips or try to bounce each other, okay?”

  The little girl scrambles to her feet and darts across the wet grass, using the small plastic stepping stool we set up so she could reach the opening.

  “I just … I can't do this with you right now,” Lynda says, putting her lavender nails to her temples and shaking her head. She throws her hands up in exasperation. “No, I'm done. I'm done. Todd, take me home please, I'm getting a migraine.” She walks up next to us and gives me a look that says this is clearly all my fault. “If one of those girls gets hurt on that thing, it's you that I'm collecting a pound of flesh from.”

  She stalks off with her husband following at her heels.

  Brooke and I both stay right where we are until we hear the front door slam behind them.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, taking Brooke in my arms and stroking my palm down her hair. It's only half of a selfless gesture. Sure, she needs to be comforted, but I just like holding her, touching her, smelling that sweet fruity scent of her shampoo. I notice then that there's glitter flaking off all over her Power Rangers t-shirt. Ah, the perfect accent to a midriff tee and a camel colored coat—glittery blue eyeshadow.

  Did I already tell ya I was in love with this chick? Because I so totally am.

  “Actually,” she starts, and even though I expect to hear tears in her voice, there's nothing but resolve. When she glances up at me, those espresso brown eyes of hers are bone-dry. “I'm okay. It felt good to let it all out like that.”

  “Are they gonna call Ingrid?” I ask, unsure if I like the idea of that or not. On the one hand, it'd be nice for the girls if their mom really could clean up her act and be a parent to them again. On the other, I have a feeling that Brooke's doing a hell of a better job at it.

  “Maybe. But it doesn't matter. She'll either come home or she won't. Nothing they have to say to her will make any difference. She left the girls here alone without telling anyone and hopped on a plane. Clearly, there's something seriously wrong with her right now.”

  Brooke sighs and sweeps her hands over her head, giving me a look that I don't quite know how to read. And believe me: I'm one of the world's foremost leading experts on reading women. Maybe I've just never gotten this particular look from one before, this steady gaze that's half curiosity and half gratitude.

  Not sure that I deserve either of those things.

  “Thank you, Zayden,” she says, and the words come out almost in a whisper. “I'm not sure what I would've done without you.”

  I grin and try to make light of it, but I know her words mean a lot. I can see it written all over her face.

  “Maybe it was fate that brought us both here? Your sister's kids … my brother's brood. If they hadn't needed us to babysit, we never would've met.”

  I feel a rush of satisfaction as her lips curve up in a sensual smile.

  “If this is what needed to happen for me to meet you, then it was all worth it—even seeing the look of horror on my parents' faces when they caught us this morning.” Brooke's smile turns
a little mischievous. “Although I do expect you to let me give what we started today another go. I wasn't finished yet.”

  Both my brows go up at that one and I lace my hands behind my head. I have to or else they'll end up in inappropriate places all over Brooke's body. That particular endeavor I'll have to save for later.

  “Neither was I.” I lean in close to Brooke so the girls won't hear me. “I never got to smoosh your ass after all.”

  And then when they're not looking, I smack her on the butt and head inside to check on the disturbing scent of burnt fish that's emanating from the kitchen. Guess we're not having fish and chips now, are we? Not unless the three women outside like charcoal that smells faintly like seafood.

  Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches it is then.

  Rob borrows a pickup from a friend of his and within a few trips, we've got pretty much everything out of the house. Brooke's spent her whole adult life living in the dorms, so she doesn't have any furniture of her own, mine's destined for a life of what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, and Ingrid didn't have much to begin with.

  Well, she didn't, but her kids sure did. I could've filled three dump trucks with the amount of toys those girls had in their rooms. In the end, I used a plastic shovel to scoop it all into garbage bags to be sorted later. I figure I can always throw the stuff in the shed on the side of the duplex and if Bella and Grace don't miss anything, we can donate it after a while.

  “This place hasn't looked this good in years,” Rob says as he stands in what's going to be Brooke's and my bedroom. The walls are painted a rich eggplant, and the curtains are this thick black silk stuff that I picked up on my last store run. Brooke hasn't seen them yet, but I bet she likes 'em as much as I do.

  It looks fucking sick as hell in here, very swag. Our own personal little love nest.

  “I don't think it's ever looked this good,” I say as I step back and study the freshly made bed, the dresser against the wall to my left and the pair of small bookshelves on either side of it. That's about all the furniture I could fit in here, but who cares? If I have Brooke in here snuggled against me every night, I don't really need much else. “Do you remember when you bought the place and you flew me up here to help you fix it up? Man, it was rough.”