Eric's Savior (Paranormal Nanny Services Book 2)

by Jadyn Chase

  Eric’s Savior

  Paranormal Nanny Services

  Jadyn Chase

  Jadyn’s Club

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  Copyright © 2018 by Jadyn Chase

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Contents

  1. Eric

  2. Angel

  3. Eric

  4. Angel

  5. Eric

  6. Angel

  7. Eric

  8. Angel

  9. Eric

  10. Angel

  11. Eric

  12. Angel

  13. Eric

  More from Jadyn

  1

  Eric

  Eric

  It’s getting late, the sun is sinking further and further toward the horizon, and the sky is turning from a blue to a golden orange. Within an hour, that orange will give way to a deep purple, and then it will be dark. I can see this, but I’m so busy with work that I’m not letting it register in my mind. I know there’s something I have to do, but that thought stays at the back of my brain, right at the edge of things I consider important, at least right in this moment.

  I’m on a job site, where my company, the one I founded, the one with my name on all the signs, Greer Building, is hard at work putting up a new development of houses. Each and every house has already been bought, and now we’re just in a race to get them all up before the fall gives way to winter. Time is running out, and there’s always a problem.

  The foreman of the construction company we often do business with is standing in front of me. He’s plucked the white hard hat from his head, and he’s holding it tucked under his arm like it’s a football. He’s a beefy guy, a bit of a beer gut, but broad-shouldered and strong, and I’m suddenly sure that he played football, as a younger man.

  His name is Jim, he’s a good man and I liked him.

  “Eric,” he says to me. “The piping I ordered is different than what they sent. Now, I’m getting it fixed, but it’s going to take time.”

  “How much time?” I ask. I am wearing my hard hat, and I know the workers who see me will roll their eyes at my expensive suit and the hard hat when they don’t think I’m looking. Whatever. It’s just a part of this business. The blue-collar guys, they feel like a team when they can all come together and hate on the guy signing the checks. As long as they do good work, I don’t give a shit.

  “I don’t know yet. But look, if we put that pipe in the ground, we’re going to be out here again within five years working on everyone’s leaks. Trust me.”

  I reach out and placed my hand on Jim’s shoulder. “You know I trust you. We’ve just had so many damn delays, and we’re pushing up against winter. Winter here is not a fun time.”

  “I know it. But when haven’t we had delays?”

  I laugh at that. “That’s true,” I tell Jim. “That is true. Okay, do what you can. Keep these guys busy.”

  “I’m sorry to get you out here just for this,” Jim says. “I could have told you over the phone.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I reply. “I like to come out and check up on everything.” I turn and look at the sky again. It’s still orange. “Shit,” I say.

  “What’s wrong?” Jim asks me, right when my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket and look at the screen. It’s the Day Care where I send both of my kids. Exactly who I knew it would be.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as I answer and hold the phone to my ear.

  “Mr. Greer?” A woman asks me.

  “I’m coming. I know, before six. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” the woman says to me, but I can tell through her inflection that it’s not okay. I say a hurried goodbye to Jim, and then I’m jogging back down a dirt hill, toward the makeshift parking lot next to the Forman’s office, a silver trailer that’s still somehow gleaming in the low light.

  I get behind the wheel of my car and crank the engine. I then proceed to speed all the way to Happy Smiles Day Care, but it’s still nearly seven when I get there. I’ve barely parked when one of the teachers, or whatever they’re called at Day Care comes marching out the door holding hands with Samantha and Brad. Sam is in first grade, so she only goes to Happy Smiles for a half day, but I drop off Brad in the morning, and he’s there from nine to six.

  “Dad, you forgot!” Samantha says to me. She seems angry. I hug them both and then usher them into the car. I turn to apologize to the young teacher, but she’s already spun and heading back inside. I’m sure she’s eager to get home, and I feel like shit.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I say to Sam as I get her brother into his car seat, and then buckle her booster seat for her.

  “No, not this!” Samantha yells at me. I can see tears forming in her eyes, and I can’t figure out why she’s so upset.

  “What is it honey?” I ask.

  “My concert!”

  And then I remember, and I feel a wave of shame wash over me. The damned concert. In first grade, the kids start playing the recorder in music class. Tonight, is a little concert they’re putting on. Sam is supposed to be there at seven. The concert starts at seven thirty.

  “We can make it before the concert starts,” I tell my daughter. “We can go straight there!”

  “No!” Sam yells. She’s never yelled at me like this, she’s always been a really even-keeled kid when it comes to temperament. Both her and her brother hardly ever yell or cry. But now she’s doing both, and I feel like shit. “We have to go home and get my recorder! It’s at home!”

  I grumble. At home? Why isn’t it in her backpack? It’s like my daughter is reading my mind, because she yells out one more time

  “I didn’t have music today, so I left it at home! We have to get it!”

  “Okay!” I say, as I get behind the wheel and speed home. I leave Brad in his car seat and then run up to unlock the front door and let Sam run in and to her room. She’s back in a flash, clutching her pearl white recorder in her hands, with a few colored ribbons tied on the end. She calls them belts, and she gets a belt for learning a new song in class. It’s like karate, I guess.

  We get back into the car, and we pull into the school parking lot at seven twenty-six.

  “We made it,” I tell my daughter. I have her run ahead while I take care of her brother. When I get inside, Sam is crying and talking to her music teacher. The woman is a fat little ball, nearly seventy it would seem, with sparse white hair and the makings of a lady mustache. I dislike her every time I see her. But I dislike her more than ever as I get close and hear what she’s saying to my daughter.

  “I’m sorry, but every other child got here on time. We are on stage now, waiting for the curtain to go up, and we will not make a special acceptance for a girl so late she almost missed the curtain raising. You can sit in the audience and watch your friends.”

  “Excuse me?” I say as I make my way up to the woman. “It’s my fault she was late, Samantha has been looking forward to this for months.

  “As true as that may be, I have somewhere to be, excuse me.” The old woman turns and marches away from us. I’m so flabbergasted by what
’s happening I don’t even argue with her.

  “We can watch,” I try as I hear applause from the auditorium to our left. The curtain must have just gone up. I can see that fat little teacher standing at the front of the crowd, baked in her self-importance as she ‘conducts’ a bunch of first graders as they clumsily make their way through ten recorder songs.

  “No,” Sam says, and her voice is so low and sad and pitiful that it breaks my heart. “Let’s just go home.”

  Neither of the kids speak to me as I drive us all home again. Brad has always adored his older sister, and it seems as though he’s joining her in being upset at me.

  I pull up to the house and we all go inside. It’s a big house, my company has done good things for us.

  “We can order pizza,” I say with a smile. The kids love pizza, and it’s a peace offering.

  “I’m not hungry,” Sam says, and she folds her arms over her chest as she flops down on the couch. Her brother follows her and mirrors her.

  “I’m not hungry either,” Brad says. I know that both kids are hungry, but I know I’m not going to get them to budge.

  “Okay,” I say. “When you get hungry, we can just make sandwiches.”

  I sit down just as my cell rings, making me pull it out of my pocket. I see Sam looking to me out of the corner of her eye. I know she’s seeing if I’ll answer it. I look at the screen. It’s Jim. It’s a call I should answer. A call I need to answer. I let it ring and slip the phone back into my pocket.

  2

  Angel

  Angel

  I feel qualified. I feel lucky. I feel hot. I know how things work in the corporate world. I’m a good looking woman, with wide hips and big boobs. My ass is great. My legs are great. I’m showing everything off, but I’m being tasteful about it. I’m sitting in a room with cheap fabric covered chairs with three other women, all trying to go for the same job. Office work. It’s boring, but it pays all right. Pay-roll. I went to college, I have a degree in accounting. I was always good with numbers.

  But the three other women in the room are good with numbers too. They probably have the same degree I do. But I’m hotter. I feel hotter. I’m comparing myself to these women, and they’re all cute, but I’m hot. I’m not a slut.

  One of the two doors in the room opens, and a skinny little woman with a clipboard steps into the room. “Ana Stephens?” she calls out. I smile and stand. “Come on back,” she says to me, and I follow the secretary to a glass walled room with a desk in the middle. No one is in the room. I sit down, and then the woman sits down. Damn it.

  I glance down to my long-hosed legs and my tasteful black pumps. Wasted. This shit is wasted. A woman is interviewing for the position! I’ll have to get it on merit alone. I haven’t worked in months. I’m running out of savings. Everyone keeps telling me the economy is great, but I can’t find a damn job.

  We go through the interview, and I think it goes well, but not great. I shake the woman’s hand and leave. I know I’m not getting the job. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I drive back to my little blue house that I love so much and go inside. I can afford the house payment for the next month. That’s it. If I don’t have a job within thirty days, I’m in deep trouble.

  I stand in my bedroom and peel off my sexy office girl uniform. Gone is the skirt, the hose, the heels. I unbutton my blouse, I take off the Lacey bra and panties. I throw on gym shorts, I throw on a tee shirt. I’m tired. I’m depressed. I grab my old beat up lap top and flop down on my bed.

  I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I’m going to find anything in my freaking chosen field, so I have to find something else. I guess I could always go wait tables, or work retail, but I’m not even sure that will keep me afloat. I need a job. A good job.

  I pull up a job site, and my eyes widen at the first link I come across. It’s been posted by what sounds like a nanny service. Kids. I could do that! I used to babysit in high school, and the kids loved me! After a few clicks, I’ve sent my resume to the company, asking for an interview. I push the laptop off of my bed and force myself to stand up. I can’t lay around and mope all day. I need to remain productive. With a free day, I should get chores done.

  I dress in clothing a little more relaxed than my sexy office wear, and I head out.

  I stop off at the bank, depositing some money my dad was kind enough to let me borrow. I hate borrowing money from him, it makes me feel like a child, but I’m not so proud that I’m willing to sleep on a park bench somewhere.

  Then I need some groceries, and I’m walking into the store when I hear someone saying my name. I was in my own little head space, so I didn’t even realize I was walking right past Nathan. I’ve known him forever, and he’s the absolute last person I want to see right now.

  Nathan isn’t a bad guy, but he is best friends with one. Randall, my ex. We’ve been broken up for almost a year now, but he keeps contacting me, begging me to get back with him. Lately, he’s taken to threatening me.

  “Hey,” I said, hoping that Nathan can tell I don’t want to talk by my unenthusiastic greeting. I’m sure he can, but he stops anyway. I know Nathan has always had a thing for me, and he doesn’t seem willing to miss an opportunity to chat with me. Nathan isn’t a bad looking guy, he’s big and strong, with a nice square jaw and piercing blue eyes. But he is friends with Randall. Always has been, and that’s enough for me to write him off for good.

  “How are you?” Nathan asks. He has his caring voice on.

  “Fine. Just in a rush.”

  “I won’t keep you, just wanted to check on you,” Nathan says. He reaches out and touches me on the shoulder. “I know Randall hasn’t taken the break up easily.”

  “Look, Nathan,” I say, a little more firmly than I had planned. “The break up was a fucking year ago almost, it’s time he moved on.”

  “Right,” Nathan says, but I can tell he’s clearly shocked by my sudden outburst. “Okay, well it’s good to see you.”

  “Yeah,” I say, and I turn and walk into the grocery store.

  I forget all about the email I sent to the nanny place until later that night, when I’m once again lying in bed, pulling the laptop onto my chest, my head resting on a pile of pillows, neck bent so I can see the screen. I have an email, it’s from the Nanny Service. They’re asking me to come in an interview. I send a quick replay back, letting a woman named Shelly know that I can make the ten-o clock appointment tomorrow morning. I close my laptop and flash a real smile, for the first time that day.

  3

  Eric

  Eric

  Jim is mad. I can see it in his face.

  “This shit between you two is putting my guys in danger!” He says. He isn’t mad at me, and I have to say, I don’t blame him.

  Hugo Greenfield has struck again. That’s why Jim had called me last night when I didn’t answer. Hugo is a real estate developer, just like me. He’s more like me than most people will ever know. He’s smart, and he’s tough, but he is different in one way. He’s all too willing to cheat to get what he wants.

  And right now, he wants me. Or rather, my business. See, I’m the number one real estate developer on the West coast. Hugo, and his Greenfield Building, is number two. It drives him nuts to be number two.

  The problem is, Hugo is dirty, and he doesn’t care if anyone gets hurt in his quest to take me and my business over, or out. Last night one of Jim’s guys was almost seriously hurt. He was working late, coming back in after dinner to get a few things done that he hadn’t had time to finish during the day. Just one guy, no one else around. Well, the wire of the crane snapped, and he almost got flattened.

  Of course, neither of us knows for sure that Hugo was behind it, but really, we do. He’s always behind anything that looks like an accident. He thinks that if he hurts people, scares enough of my workers away, I’ll be forced to close up shop.

  Hugo is in for a disappointment.

  But somehow, as serious as this all is, I can’t focus on it
. Even as Jim rages in my office, my mind keeps drifting back to my kids. I’ve been so concerned with my work, I haven’t been a very good father.

  Of course, I’m the boss of a large company. Working less at this time, is just out of the question. But leaving the kids at daycare, with who knows how many other children, it’s just not cutting it. I need to do more.

  Jim stops talking, as we both stand there in silence. “Know anything about nannies?” I ask.

  Jim looks dumbfounded. “Nannies?”

  I sigh. “For the kids. I’m sorry, I know we have a serious problem, but last night, I missed something that was important to my daughter. I could have gotten there on time, but I got her there late. I think I need help. Neither of my kids spoke to me this morning. The younger one, he feeds off his older sister, so if Samantha is mad at me, then Brad is too.”

  I thought Jim would be mad that I changed subjects so abruptly, but instead he seemed to soften. “My kids are grown now, but it was hard when they were little. I was busy. I mean, my wife was there…”

  He seemed to trail off briefly, and I can tell he feels bad for bringing up his wife when my own had died. It was years ago, she died in childbirth with Brad. At the time, I hadn’t even known women still died while giving birth. It was a shock, and while I certainly wasn’t over it, and I knew I never would be, it has gotten a little easier with time.

  “It’s okay,” I say with a smile.

  “Well, even with my wife, we had the five kids, you know, those four girls and then my youngest, Mark. Poor guy, all those women in the house, and me on various job sites for hours and hours. Anyway, we did get a nanny, we had one when the kids were really young, but when Mark got to about high school age, then we sort of just stopped it. Three of the girls were away at college by then, so it was just two kids at home. But yeah, we did the nanny thing. It worked out great. When I get home tonight, I’ll see if my wife remembers the company. They might still be around.”