Playing the Player

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  “We didn’t mean to make Trina cry,” Gillian wailed. She buried her face in my chest and a fresh crying jag overtook her. I pulled her in close and whispered in her ear. “Shh. It’s okay, Gilly.”

  Where had that come from? I never called her Gilly.

  Max squirmed off my lap and started gathering pieces of paper. “Maybe we can tape it back together.” Spike grabbed a shredded page from Max’s hand and ran out of the office, his tail wagging victoriously.

  “Spike! Come back here.” Gillian launched herself up, running after her dog. Max joined the chase.

  A long, shuddering sigh escaped my body. I pulled my knees up to my chin and glanced at Slade. “So you win,” I said. “You’re right. My ideas suck.”

  I thought of the moms, so confident I could handle their kids, and somehow teach Slade something, too. Like what? How to alienate children? How to reduce everyone to tears? How to drive away my partner?

  Slade leaned over, his arm brushing against my back as he reached behind me to unplug the shredder from the wall. Silence enveloped us as the blades shuddered to a stop. Thundering footsteps and shrieking voices floated down the stairs as the kids chased Spike from bedroom to bedroom.

  Slade sighed next to me, and I averted my gaze from his lean, muscular body. His shoulder bumped mine, and I looked up. He gave me a crooked smile. “I know what you need. Ice cream.”

  I reached up to wipe my tear-dampened face. I could only imagine what a hot mess I was. “Ice cream,” I said dully. “What does that have to do with this disaster?”

  “Nothing. That’s the point.” He jumped up and put out his hand. “Come on.”

  My hand reached for his, and I let him tug me to my feet, desperately trying to ignore the tingles set off by his touch.

  We sat under a canopy of shade trees with dripping ice cream cones in our hands.

  “This is the best ice cream I ever had.” Gilly batted her eyelashes at Slade.

  I agreed with her, but I didn’t bat my eyelashes at our savior, who sat with his back against a tree, watching us all with a satisfied smile. Besides, she was doing enough flirting for the both of us.

  Somehow Slade had managed to catch Spike and put him in his dog crate, wrangle the kids and make them clean up the binder mess in the office, and allow me some precious alone time to compose myself.

  Max held out his dripping cone to me. “I like putting gummy bears in my ice cream. Wanna bite, Trina?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “That’s all yours, kiddo. I’ll stick with peppermint.”

  “So the kids and I had a little chat while we cleaned up the office.” Slade licked his ice cream, and I felt my whole body flush as I watched his tongue move over the triple scoop perched precariously on his cone.

  I stared at my chipped toenails to avoid looking at him. Maybe Desi and I could give each other pedicures tonight. Maybe she could help me make sense of this crazy day. This crazy week.

  “Trina?” Slade’s voice brought me back to the moment.

  “Your chat,” I said, still staring at my toes. “Did you guys decide to fire me?” The irony was not lost on me.

  “What? No. Of course not.”

  This time I met his eyes. He didn’t look like he was lying. In fact, he looked startled.

  “Really? You don’t think it’d be best if I bowed out and you took over?” I glanced at the kids, who’d wandered a few feet away to pet a friendly Golden Retriever.

  “Believe it or not, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He paused. “But if you’d asked me this morning I’d have answered differently.”

  My face swiveled toward him in time to catch his fleeting grin.

  “So, what changed your mind?” I took a too big bite of ice cream, and my eyes watered from the instant brain freeze. At least it distracted me from how warm the rest of my body felt under his intense stare.

  “You changed my mind.” He took another lick of his cone, and my gaze shot to my toes again.

  “How so?”

  “Well…when I stormed out of the house I was totally going to quit. But then I realized it was crappy to bail on you in the middle of a mutiny. And when I found everyone falling apart like it was somebody’s funeral….” His voice trailed away.

  “What?” I prompted, daring to look at him again.

  He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the kids. “I guess I felt sorry for you. And the kids. I mean, I know you care about them. And they like you, too. They just…want to have more fun, you know? That’s what we talked about when we cleaned up the binder mess.” He took a breath. “So I’ve been thinking…maybe that’s where I come in.” He turned toward me, his expression uncertain.

  I felt a tiny smile playing at the corner of my lips. “So, you bring the fun, is that it? And I bring the crushing discipline and order?”

  He laughed, deep and sexy, and my breath caught as I watched amusement chase the uncertainty from his expression.

  “Not exactly.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes, and the urge to run my fingers through it hit me full force. If we actually were going to keep working together, I’d have to get this irrational hormonal reaction to him under control.

  Was that what I wanted? Us to work together? To not get him fired? I glanced toward the kids, who’d moved on to pet a black Lab lounging at his owner’s feet.

  The kids loved Slade. And he appeared to care about them. Even if he didn’t care about my schedules and plans, he cared about the kids.

  I swallowed the last bite of my cone and wiped my sticky hands on a napkin. Of course I couldn’t fire him. He’d totally saved the day today. Apparently he had a knack for staying calm in a crisis. That could definitely come in handy.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of us trying out an actual partnership,” he said. A cloud passed over the sun, shadowing his face. “As in, you plan a day, then I’ll plan a day.”

  My stomach clenched. Let Slade plan a whole day of activities? I could just imagine what he’d come up with.

  “Come on, Trina. Give me a chance to prove you wrong.” His voice was light and playful but his eyes locked onto mine, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if his words had more than one meaning.

  Gilly and Max charged back into our personal space, killing the mood.

  “Let’s go!” Gilly tugged on Slade’s arm and Max tugged on mine.

  “Duty calls,” Slade said, pretending to let Gilly haul him to his feet.

  We walked to Slade’s car, the kids running ahead of us down the sidewalk.

  “So will you consider what I said? Think about it over the weekend?” Slade asked. He kicked at a rock, his feet juggling it down the sidewalk like a soccer ball.

  “Sure.” I had a lot of things to think about over the weekend. After today, I wasn’t quite sure if up was up or down was down. I needed to reconsider everything, especially my own vision of how this summer was supposed to be.

  “Cool,” he said, and for the briefest of moments, his hand brushed against mine, sending shivers up and down my spine.

  Nanny Notes: Mutiny

  CONS: Kids hate the binder. And my ideas. And me?

  PROS: Slade knows how to calm everyone down. Surprisingly cool under pressure.

  CONS: Not going to fire him after all.

  PROS: Not going to fire him after all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Slade

  Friday, June 7

  “Up for more skinny-dipping tonight, big guy?” Text delivered 8:49 p.m.

  “Slade? Did u get my text?” Text delivered 9:53 p.m.

  “Sorry. Can’t make it.” Text sent 10:17 p.m.

  “U get a better offer?” Text delivered 10:33 p.m.

  “Slade? U there?” Text delivered 10:47 p.m.

  I powered off my phone. It was easier rejecting someone via text. I felt kind of bad, but we’d both agreed this was a no-strings-attached deal. And now I was officially cutting the strings.

  Besides, I was way too distracted by the day�
�s events to hook up with anyone. Except maybe… I shook my head to clear away the unbidden image of kissing Trina.

  The same image that had taunted me all day long. When we’d been in the middle of our screaming match in the Gonzales’ family room. When I’d found her crying on the floor, surrounded by her shredded binder. When I’d watched her eat her ice cream cone. When I’d said good-bye to her at the end of our crazy day, which I hoped had ended in a truce.

  Obviously, I was losing it.

  She so wasn’t my type. At all. So what the hell was going on? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about her? Why did I feel this weird pull to be with her? Why did it bug me so much when I saw her crying?

  I needed professional help. How convenient that I lived with two professional shrinks… Like I’d ever talk to them.

  I opened my Facebook app on my phone. I had 723 friends, including Trina. I wondered when she’d friended me. Or had I friended her? I never turned down friend requests, but I was kind of surprised to see her in my list.

  Clicking on her profile, I wasn’t exactly shocked to see that her relationship status was single. Still, I was surprised at the wave of relief that surged through me. I clicked on her page. Thirty-two friends.

  Wow.

  Should I feel sorry for her, or was she just picky? And how had I made it onto her selective list of friends? We had two mutual FB buddies: Desi and Alex. I saw that Trina and Desi had checked into the Alamo Theater around 7:30 p.m. “Girl power!” Desi had posted. “Movies and pedis.” Again, I felt strangely relieved to see that Trina was out for a girls’ night, not a date.

  I clicked on Alex’s page. “Romantic dinner at the Melting Pot. Six-month anniversary!” And a lovey-dovey pic of him and Tim posing cheek-to-cheek at a candlelit table. I grimaced at his disgustingly romantic photo, but I clicked “like.” He was my best friend, after all, and I was happy for him, even though I didn’t agree with his whole fall-in-love-and-life-becomes-perfect philosophy.

  It was still early enough I could find somewhere to go…and someone to go with…but after scrolling through all the drunken photos, I set my phone aside. I flipped over on my bed, and my gaze landed on the binder resting precariously on a stack of junk on the table.

  With a resigned sigh, I reached for it and flipped to the first page, which I’d bypassed the other night when I’d only read the schedule.

  “Dear Slade,

  If you’re reading this, I am totally shocked. Seriously, a tear in the universe probably just opened up a wormhole to another dimension. But anyway, if you are reading this…thank you. I hope you don’t think it’s completely lame. If you’ll just play along, and flip to the next page(s), maybe it will help you understand my plan for the summer.”

  My heart rate picked up considerably. No wonder she’d been so pissed I hadn’t read it.

  “I’ve known Gillian since she was two, but I don’t know Max very well. He seems kind of serious, from the few times I’ve met him at Gillian’s. I’m hoping he’ll relax around you, since you’re a guy.

  “The Moms want the kids to do some educational activities this summer, so I’ve come up with a big list of possible field trips, books to read, even a few documentaries. That probably sounds dorky, but maybe we can make it fun? You always know how to make people laugh. Even in the most boring classes. ”

  Guilt covered me like a heavy cape of shame. I’d made the kids laugh all right, after encouraging a full-on mutiny that led to a complete and total Trina meltdown. I ran a hand through my hair.

  I glanced at my alarm clock. 11:37 p.m. Too late to text her. Knowing her, she was probably already asleep. Picturing her in bed made me swallow and reach for my water bottle.

  What would I text, anyway? Sorry I was such a dick, but hey, that’s how I roll.

  Maybe it was good we had a weekend apart before we saw each other again. We could both clear our heads and figure out how to make this nanny thing actually work.

  Because we would work this out.

  I’d make sure of it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trina

  Saturday, June 8

  I read the date on the can of corn: May 5, 2007. I snorted and chucked the can into the trash barrel. What was wrong with people? Who donated ancient, expired food to a homeless shelter?

  “Anything salvageable?”

  I spun around, startled by the sound of Sharon’s voice.

  “Don’t scare me like that.” I threw a can of expired peas into the trash.

  Sharon grinned. All five feet ten inches of her was covered with dust, which was a shame because underneath the dust she wore a gorgeous outfit, as usual. She said she dressed up so she could be a good role model to the moms who stayed in the shelter with their kids.

  “So far, nothing at all from this load.” I frowned. “Who dropped it off? I’d like to hunt them down.”

  Sharon laughed, brushing dust out of her long, dark hair. “Beggars can’t be choosers, honey, you know that. Most of the time we can use the donations. But once in a while…” Her voice trailed away as she surveyed the nearly empty pantry shelves. “I was hoping we’d hit the mother lode with this donation, but I guess not.” She looked into the nearly full trash barrel and shook her head.

  I felt horrible, even though I knew it wasn’t my fault the food I was sorting was unusable. The Redemption Shelter had been running low on food lately. Sharon said it wasn’t just Redemption; every place in town was having trouble keeping up with demand.

  “Isn’t there something we can do?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve reached out to all our regular donors.” She wiped dust off her forehead. “But I’ve got more urgent problems than food right now.”

  My chest tightened. I’d been volunteering at Redemption for over a year. All of Sharon’s “clients,” as she called them, were homeless moms and their kids. Most of them were in pretty bad shape when they arrived. Scared. Hungry. Running from abusive men.

  Sharon liked for me to spend time with the kids, reading to them and encouraging them to play on the ancient playground equipment in the rundown yard behind the shelter.

  “What’s up?” I asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

  Her dark eyes closed briefly behind her red cat-eye glasses. “Oh, it’s just…I’m tired, Trina. Things always look worse when I’m tired.”

  I didn’t believe her, but I wasn’t sure how much I should pry. I tore open another box and started sorting. Expiration date 2003? Furious, I threw the can so hard it almost knocked over the trash can.

  Sharon laughed. “You ever play softball?”

  “No.” I laughed. “Maybe I should.”

  She grinned at me. “Never too late, that’s my motto.” She opened the fridge and grabbed two sodas, then gestured for me to sit at the table.

  “To summer,” Sharon said. We clinked our cans together. “So tell me about your summer. How’s the babysitting job?” She gestured toward the trash can. “I’m sensing some pent up tension from you.”

  So much for burying myself in other activities to keep away thoughts of Slade. I shrugged. “It was a long week.”

  “Yeah?” She brushed more dust off her blouse and shot me a grin. “Tell your Auntie Sharon all about it.”

  The crazy thing was, I could tell her all about it. We talked about lots of stuff. She seemed so much wiser than me. Probably because she was.

  “It’s just…the other nanny. He’s kind of…challenging.” I shifted in my chair, unable to get comfortable. Maybe it was the heat flooding through me as I remembered how Slade had looked at me yesterday.

  She raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “He? Do tell.”

  “It’s not like that,” I said defensively.

  Her penetrating gaze stayed pinned on me. I frowned when I saw her speculative half smile.

  “It’s not!” I insisted. “We’re just…” What were we? Not friends. Not yet. Probably not ever. “Partners,” I said. “Just partners.”

  �
�Mm-hmm.” She took a long drink, but kept her eyes on me. “And your partner is challenging you how, exactly?”

  “He’s…unpredictable. But the kids love him. We don’t agree on anything. Yesterday he quit, but then he came back. And then I almost quit.”

  Sharon folded her arms over the necklaces tangled across her blouse. “That’s a lot of drama for one day.”

  I laughed softly. “Yeah, it was.”

  “Sounds like emotions are running high between you two. Could be something else is going on.” This time she arched both eyebrows.

  “Nothing else is going on,” I said. “Other than we sort of hate each other.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. We’d ended on a good note yesterday, after the ice cream. He’d been really…decent. Thoughtful, even. I bit my lip, remembering how he’d held my car door open when we’d said good-bye. How he’d told me not to drive angry, imitating Bill Murray in that silly Groundhog Day movie my mom watched every Christmas.

  “That’s what I thought,” she murmured.

  “What?” I almost barked. “You thought what?”

  “I see it on your face, sweetie. I don’t think you hate this boy. Not at all.”

  Air escaped me like she’d popped the Trina balloon. “Okay, so I don’t hate him. But I don’t really like him, either.” I fiddled with the Flintstone salt and pepper shakers on the table. “I can’t figure him out.”

  She snorted. “Welcome to the club, honey. You ever figure out the male brain, you let me know.”

  “I’ll be the last person to do that.”

  She smiled at me as she scooted her chair away from the table. “Well, you’ve got all summer to work on it.” She stood up. “Come on. I’ve got a ton of clothes to sort through.”

  I followed her down to the basement, grateful for a task to keep my mind off the impossible problem of deciphering the male brain.

  My phone pinged as I pulled another T-shirt from an overstuffed trash bag. Whoever had donated these had been obsessed with Star Wars. So far I’d found three Darth Vader shirts, two Yoda shirts, and two Luke Skywalker shirts.