Always You: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection Books 5-8)

by Brenna Jacobs

  Ms. Emily scoffed. “But that’s all Harry needs, isn’t it?” She looked at him, a question in her gaze. “Until you can find something more permanent? That would give Charlotte the break she deserves.” She looked back at Zoey. “You said yourself you were going to need to look for something part-time. This is perfect. Harry needs a nanny. You need a job.”

  “When I said I thought I’d need to find a job, I was thinking of something more along the lines of fact-checking for one of the local news networks, or, I don’t know, transcribing interviews. Things I could largely do while I’m here with you.”

  “Pssh,” Ms. Emily said. “Why? Cassandra is here. I bet Harry would pay more than you’d get for fact-checking anyway.”

  The more Harry thought on the plan, the more he liked it. He trusted Emily as much as he trusted anyone in his own family. If she thought Zoey could do the job, he believed that she could. Plus, it wouldn’t be the worst thing spending a little more time with her, would it?

  “I could use the help,” he said to Zoey. “At least until school starts up. And it wouldn’t be full-time. We shoot early every day, so I’m normally home by four. Would you consider it?”

  Zoey looked from him, then to Ms. Emily, then back to Harry. “I’ll consider it. But I don’t come cheap, Harrison Beckford. Let’s go meet your kids. Then you can decide how much I’m worth.”

  Chapter 3

  “Right now?” Harry asked, hope lighting his eyes.

  Zoey shrugged. “Cassandra will be here another few hours. Why not?”

  Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. That would be great, actually. I can show you around the house, run you through the kids’ basic schedule. Then you can decide from there if you think it’s something that will work for you.”

  “I’ll grab my bag.” Zoey retrieved her purse from her bedroom, noting Nana’s satisfied grin as she passed back through the living room. She’d expected Nana to have opinions about her love life, or lack thereof, but she hadn’t expected her to actually meddle. This was meddling at its finest. And yet, part-time nannying didn’t sound like such a bad gig. She did like being around kids, and she imagined Harry would pay her more than a decent wage. Plus, it might mean getting to see more of Harry himself, which, even just for the view, Zoey wouldn’t mind.

  Zoey leaned over and kissed Nana on the cheek. “How long have you been planning this, you sneak?” she whispered, her tone teasing. Harry was nowhere in sight.

  Nana smirked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Zoey rolled her eyes and stood up, pausing when Nana caught her hand. “Give him a chance, Zoey,” she said haltingly. Zoey thought there was more she wanted to say, but she only squeezed her hand before closing her eyes and leaning her head back against her chair.

  Zoey said goodbye to Cassandra, reminding her that she was only a quick call away, and then went to find Harry.

  He was waiting for her in the entryway.

  “How old are your kids?” Zoey asked as she approached.

  “Hannah is five—she’s the oldest—and Oliver is three. They both start school next month; Hannah will be in kindergarten and Oliver will start preschool at the same time. Their schedule will change then, but for now, things are pretty low key.”

  Zoey had all kinds of questions running through her mind. Harry was single; Nana never would have insinuated that the two of them should date if he wasn’t. So that made him . . . divorced? Widowed, maybe? The thought made her stomach lurch. Maybe he’d never been married, he was just a really responsible co-parent?

  A vague memory surfaced in Zoey’s mind—headlines she’d read from the tabloids in grocery checkout lines a while back. It was a divorce; she was almost positive. Was his ex still around? So far, he’d made no mention of a mom being present in his kids’ lives, no mention of a need to coordinate with anyone else’s schedule. It sounded a lot more like he was handling parenthood on his own. Her heart went out to the guy. No matter the circumstances that landed him there, that couldn’t be easy.

  Zoey glanced at her watch. “I’ll have to be back by five o’clock. Is three hours enough time?”

  Harry nodded and opened the front door, holding it open for her. “My sister only lives a few minutes away and my place is around the block from that.”

  Zoey paused in Nana’s driveway, watching as Harry loaded his tools into his truck. It was parked on the street, directly in front of Nana’s house. How had Zoey missed it when she’d come home from the store in the first place? “Hey, I can grab Nana’s keys and follow you over if that would be easier,” she said. “That way you won’t have to bring me back home.”

  Harry shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly. It’s less than ten minutes. We can talk about the kids on the way over.”

  Something fluttered in Zoey’s gut at the thought of sharing the cab of Harry’s truck with him. Don’t be weird. Just don’t be weird.

  “Okay.” She moved to the passenger side door and climbed in. The truck was enormous, the cab clean and roomy, with a full bench seat in the back. Two car seats took up either side of the backseat and a collection of stuffed animals and books, as well as a discarded hoodie and one random shoe filled the floorboards and the space between the seats.

  Harry followed her gaze. “Sorry about the mess. The kids are always tossing things around in here.”

  “Don’t even worry about it,” Zoey said. “I think it’s great.”

  “So, um, Ms. Emily’s pretty relentless, isn’t she?” He combed his fingers through his dark hair. It was longish on top and kind of wavy, and when he pushed it over to the side, it curled, just slightly, onto his forehead.

  Zoey squelched a laugh. “That’s one word for it. I think she’s made her mind up about what she wants. We’re the pawns in her grand plan.”

  Harry shot her a sideways glance. “You’re not going to hear me complain about it.”

  Oh wow. That was flirting. That was definitely flirting. Zoey cleared her throat and tossed him a knowing look. “So, the kids.”

  “Right. Yes. They’re great. Really. I know I’m biased because I’m their dad, but they’re just stellar humans. Stellar miniature, slightly sticky humans.”

  Zoey swallowed. “And their mom?”

  Harry answered without hesitation. “Their mom isn’t in the picture. She lives on the East Coast, so she won’t be around at all.”

  Zoey’s reporter brain started buzzing. So many questions hid inside those few short statements. Why did the kids’ mom live on the East Coast? How long had she lived there? Did the kids ever see her? But none of that was Zoey’s business—she briefly wondered if Google could tell her anything but searching for him suddenly felt like a rotten thing to do—so she swallowed her questions and nodded along as Harry talked about the kids and their generally easy schedule. No one could accuse this guy of overscheduling them. It seemed like they lived a pretty chill life.

  “So the days I’m shooting, we generally wrap up around three or four every afternoon. I aim for getting home around four thirty at the latest, which should give you plenty of time to get back to Ms. Emily’s before Cassandra leaves.” Harry turned the truck off of the main road onto a street not that different from the one where Nana lived. The houses were maybe a touch larger, but it had the same general feel. Midcentury, eclectic homes, palm trees, sidewalks lined with succulents. “That is, if you decide you want to do it.”

  “And what time do you leave in the morning?” Zoey asked.

  “Anytime between eight and nine, usually. I like to have breakfast with the kids before I go, so I try to keep my mornings flexible.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing. It’s nice that you have so much control over your schedule. I didn’t know Hollywood was so forgiving.”

  Harry wrinkled his brows. “I don’t know that I’d call it Hollywood. And it hasn’t always been this good. The first few seasons, I filmed on the network’s terms and it was brutal. We filmed all over the US; I was g
one all the time. But then when Samantha left and I had the kids, things had to change. By then, the show was big enough, I was able to make demands and they listened.” He shrugged. “It was either that, or I walked.”

  Zoey swallowed. The hottest home renovator to hit TV in decades was also a really good dad. And that was really, really sexy.

  “I, um . . .” She forced out a breath. “That’s really admirable.”

  They stopped in front of a light blue two-story house that looked more like it belonged on a New England coast than it did in the suburbs of Los Angeles. “Wow,” Zoey said. “Great house.”

  “Charlotte’s husband is from Maine. It was his one demand for agreeing to live in California. He got to build a house that looked like home, hence the Cape Cod style.”

  Zoey climbed out of the truck and pushed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, following Harry up to the front door. “So Charlotte, she’s great. Her kids—four boys—are total maniacs though, so I can’t promise you won’t get hit with a dart or a bean bag, or something else as soon as we walk in.” He paused at the front door, his hand on the knob and gave Zoey a serious look. “Ready? All senses on high alert?”

  Zoey suppressed a smile and tried to match his serious tone. “Ready.”

  As soon as the door opened, noise assaulted her ears. Some kind of a Nerf battle was definitely going on, foam bullets flying past her head in several directions. She ducked and lifted her hands to cover her face. Harry grabbed her hand. “See? I told you.” He towed her toward the back of the house, ducking around the corner into the kitchen. “This is a no-fly zone,” he said, still holding Zoey’s hand. “We’ll be safe in here.”

  Zoey glanced at their hands, then up to Harry’s face. He smiled, squeezing her hand lightly before letting it go. Did that mean something? That little squeeze? Zoey felt completely upended.

  “Daddy?”

  Harry turned around and caught the little girl that came barreling across the room. He swept her up into his arms. “Hey, Hannah banana. How was your day?”

  Hannah sighed with dramatic flair. “Horrible. The boys were ridiculous.”

  Harry tossed Zoey a quick glance over his shoulder, a smile in his eyes. “Ridiculous, huh? Where’s Oliver?”

  “In the bathtub. He got goop on him and Aunt Charlotte said it was so gross, he needed a bath.”

  “What kind of goop?”

  Hannah shrugged. “The goopy kind?”

  “Glue,” a woman said as she came around the corner into the kitchen. It had to be Charlotte. She had Harry’s matching eyes. “The glue kind of goop. An entire bottle of Elmer’s spread on every inch of his body. You’d have been proud of how thorough he was.”

  “Wow,” Harry said. “I owe you dinner, don’t I?”

  “You owe me way more than dinner, little brother. Way more.”

  Harry stepped out of the way and motioned to Zoey. “Speaking of, this is Zoey. She’s Ms. Emily’s granddaughter. She’s thinking about helping out with the kids until school starts back.”

  Charlotte looked from Harry to Zoey and then back again. “Truly?” she said to Zoey.

  Zoey lifted her shoulders and smiled. “Maybe? I mean, I’m just meeting the kids right now. Feeling things out. But . . . probably?”

  Charlotte stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Zoey, squeezing her so tightly, Zoey couldn’t even move to return the hug. “I was about to tease you about how much I know your grandma wants you and my brother to get together, but you’ve just made me so happy, I won’t do it.”

  Charlotte finally released her but kept her hands on Zoey’s arms. “I promise the glue thing doesn’t happen every day. Ollie is really sweet. The sweetest.”

  As if on cue, a little boy who could only be Oliver came toddling into the kitchen, his arms outstretched. “Daddy!”

  Zoey didn’t even have time to process why Charlotte knew about her grandma’s designs to get her and Harry together before Harry grabbed her attention, setting Hannah down and picking up his son, snuggling him against his chest. “Hey, little man. I hear you made a mess.”

  “I all clean,” Oliver said.

  Watching Harrison Beckford be a dad? Zoey was really going to like this job.

  Harry turned toward her, wrapping his free arm around Hannah. “Hey, guys? I want you to meet Zoey. This is Ms. Emily’s granddaughter. She might be spending some time with you guys this summer.”

  Zoey reached over and touched Oliver’s back. “Hi, Oliver.” He smiled shyly then tucked his chin into his dad’s shoulder.

  Hannah looked up at Zoey with wide eyes. Oh, she was so going to be spending time with these kids this summer. One look and she was already a goner. She crouched down in front of Hannah. “It’s nice to meet you, Hannah.”

  Hannah took a deep breath. “I like Ms. Emily a lot.”

  Zoey smiled. “Me too.”

  “Want to see my pony collection?”

  Zoey nodded, happy to have been so readily accepted. “Absolutely, I do.” She took Hannah’s hand and followed her toward what she assumed was the living room. She glanced back over her shoulder and met Harry’s gaze. His smile was warm, and there was a look of . . . something on his face that made her skin tingle and her heart squeeze. Maybe it was the kids and the way he interacted with them. Maybe it was his history with Nana. Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled. But Zoey really, really liked this guy.

  She’d be lying to herself if she pretended that the fact he was Harrison Beckford and not just Harry the Handyman didn’t have something to do with her growing fascination. But she’d seen enough in the past hour that she was pretty sure she’d be equally as charmed even if he didn’t have celebrity status. As long as he still had those same smile lines around those same smoky gray eyes.

  They hung out at Charlotte’s a few more minutes before loading up the kids and driving a handful of blocks to Harry’s house. They pulled up to an automated gate and Zoey tried not to crane her neck to catch sight of the house. She’d naturally assumed that Harry had money, but she wouldn’t peg him as a guy that needed the mansion to prove it. Sure enough, they pulled up the winding drive to a house that looked a lot more California than Charlotte’s but wasn’t much bigger in size. The house had two stories, but it still managed a low profile, as if it was nestled into the ground and the surrounding landscape. A huge front door and massive windows and clean modern lines that extended around the side of the house unified everything in a way that Zoey liked, even though she didn’t understand why. The house just worked.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she said as Harry stopped the car.

  “Thanks. I built it myself.”

  “Oh, right. I guess that makes sense.”

  “We’ve only been in it six months,” he said. “It was a labor of love that I started before Hannah was born.”

  “Wow. So you did it all by yourself? No help at all?” Zoey opened the back door and reached for Oliver’s car seat buckles. “Hey, little man. You okay if I help you out of your seat?”

  Oliver looked toward his dad, who gave him an encouraging nod, then nodded slowly at Zoey. He pushed his thumb into his mouth as she unsnapped him. She lifted him out and put him down on the ground where he promptly ran toward the front door.

  “I had help with the framing,” Harry said. “That’s a tough one-man job, but otherwise, it was just me. It was my therapy, working on it alone. It got me through years of failed marriage therapy, through two kids, through a divorce. I think life makes more sense when you’re working with your hands, you know?”

  She nodded. She wasn’t particularly handy herself, but she could still relate. She felt the same way about yoga. “What’s your therapy now that the house is done?”

  He smirked. “So that’s why I’m feeling all out of sorts.” He handed Hannah her backpack. “Don’t forget to take this inside, Hannah.”

  The inside of the house was even better than the outside. It was an open-concept floor plan, wit
h the living room flowing into the kitchen and dining area then back into a play area for the kids. It was warm and welcoming and even though it was magazine-level gorgeous, it still felt lived in, like she didn’t need to worry about breaking a dish or scuffing the floor.

  “This is amazing,” Zoey said, taking it all in. “Truly.”

  Harry’s face lit up in genuine surprise. “You think so?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s spectacular.” Zoey walked toward the kitchen. “Has it been on your show?”

  Harry shook his head. “Believe me, the producers have asked. But with the kids . . . I don’t know. I wanted to have something that was just ours. I keep meaning to plan a dinner or something, invite some friends and family over to have a housewarming thing, but I’ve been busy, I guess. I haven’t gotten around to it.”

  “I can’t imagine how you juggle it all.”

  Oliver walked toward where they stood in the kitchen, a book in his hands, and surprised them both when he passed Harry and held the book out to Zoey. “Story?” he asked.

  Zoey looked at Harry and he smiled. “I think he likes you.”

  She took the book. “I’d love to read you a story, Ollie.”

  “Hey, are you okay with dogs?” Harry called. “We’ve got one, and she’s enormous. If I let her out, she’s probably going to maul you.”

  “I love dogs,” Zoey said. “Go for it.” She reached the living room sofa where she pulled Oliver onto her lap and opened the book. Before she could start the first page, a massive curly-haired golden doodle came careening around the couch, nails clicking against the wood floors.

  “Goldy!” Oliver yelled. The dog licked Oliver with a gentleness that surprised Zoey, then snuffled into her leg, tail wagging enthusiastically.

  “Hi, Goldy,” Zoey said. “You’re adorable.”

  Harry reappeared, crossing to the back door. “Hey look, she didn’t eat you.”

  “I think Ollie protected me,” Zoey said.

  “Ah, smart. She’s always gentler with the kids. Marigold!” he called. “Come on, girl. Time to go out.”