A Nanny For The Professor

Chapter One

Brock

“You can’t be serious.” Brock was exhausted. Sleep had never sounded so good. And yet, here he was listening to Anna, the woman he’d depended on and relied on for the past six months to look after his daughter while he worked, tell him that she was taking another job. Her dream job.

Like getting to hang out with his four-year-old daughter, Rynn, wasn’t a dream job of its own.

Hell, it was his dream job. But getting to stay home and color in coloring books while eating macaroni and cheese and hiding out in blanket forts in the living room didn’t pay the bills.

Which was exactly why he’d hired Anna, a nanny through the local agency, so he could take on the full-time professor position at Grexton University and provide everything he could to Rynn. And everything had been going well, completely according to plan.

Until now.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hanlin. I just can’t turn down—”

“Anna, you haven’t called me Mr. Hanlin in months. There’s no need to now.”

“No,” she agreed. “But you sound mad. And when you sound mad, I get super professional. Call it a defence mechanism.”

Brock could relate to that. Hell knows he had a few of his own defence mechanisms he tended to refer to when the situation called for it. “I’m not mad,” he insisted, running a hand through his dirty blond hair. “Just disappointed. Not in you, of course, just the situation as a whole.” As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t blame her for taking the preschool job in Calledon. She was overqualified to be here babysitting every day—he knew that. But he’d thought he found the perfect companion for Rynn while he worked. And his daughter loved the woman, jabbered on about their activities and days spent doing outings and fun things. “You got along with Rynn so well.”

“I know.” Anna sighed, pushing her dark brown hair past her shoulder. “And I’m sad to leave her. But I couldn’t turn down the opportunity, Brock.”

“I get it. I really do.” He checked the calendar on his cellphone, then eyed her hopefully. “And there’s no way you can give me more notice?” It was a long shot, but he had to ask.

“The job starts on Monday,” she replied sadly. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He pushed the phone into his pocket. “I’ll figure it out.” I always do, he thought. “Congrats on the new job, Anna. I really do wish you the best.”

To his surprise, Anna leaned forward and hugged Brock before she thanked him and disappeared out the door.

Six months, and now he was starting all over again. Damn it. He didn’t relish the thought of telling Rynn when she woke up in the morning. In that moment, a sliver of frustration jolted through him at knowing Anna hadn’t had the guts to tell the little girl herself.

Oh well, he would be the one to break the bad news. To hold his little daughter as she cried big tears from her sparkly blue eyes that reminded him so much of her mama’s.

Not for the first time, Brock wished Hailey, Rynn’s mom, was there. But fate had thrown a wrench into their plans for a lifetime together three years ago when Hailey was in a car accident that left the Hanlins as a family of two.

Brock shook his head. He couldn’t think about that. He had to do what was best for his daughter, like he always did. And that meant getting on the phone with the nanny agency and finding a suitable replacement for Rynn’s caretaker.

By Monday.

He groaned. It was a Friday night. He’d just got home from teaching a three-hour lecture on the prose of Hemingway. The agency wouldn’t be open now, but there was a number for one of the managers he could call tomorrow morning since he was in a pinch.

He would make it right, do whatever he had to do. For Rynn.

***

Saturday morning was a time for cartoons and pajamas in the Hanlin household. Rynn, even at four years old, always seemed to sleep in a little later, which was the biggest gift Brock could ever receive seeing as he was a single dad with a full-time job and very little spare time.

But Saturday mornings, those were reserved for daddy and daughter time.

Usually, anyway.

“Your cereal is getting soggy, Rynn Tin Tin.”

Rynn came flying out of the living room, her little bare feet padding loudly across the laminate floor and the area run, and she pushed her cereal bowl up on the kitchen table, milk sloshing over the side onto the tabletop. “I’m all done!” she announced before racing back to her favorite spot in front of the television, eyes wide as she watched colorfully-clothed puppies bounce around on the screen, saving their kitten friends from some kind of peril.

Ah, cartoons. If only every daunting situation could be solved within a half hour timespan, with everyone happy and content again by the time the credits rolled.

Fortunately, just the sight of Rynn sitting cross-legged on the floor in her 101 Dalmatians pajamas and her long chestnut hair in a curly mess seemed to put Brock at ease. She always seemed to be the one to help him get through the tough things, and the little girl didn’t even know she was doing it. He would do absolutely anything for a simple “Daddy, I love you,” though—that’s what made his world revolve.

And now, clad in his own red plaid pajama pants and plain white T-shirt, Brock had to pull himself away from those cartoons and that porcelain doll he called a daughter and handle something he didn’t want to have to be handling. It couldn’t be helped.

“Daddy’s just going to make a phone call, baby girl.” He picked his cellphone up off the kitchen table. “I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell her about Anna’s departure as her nanny yet. He needed a pot of coffee and a chance to steel himself against her impending breakdown before he announced the news.

Brock also figured it’d be better to have someone lined up to tell Rynn about before he tried to explain. He dialed the manager’s number and let it ring, already feeling guilty for making a business call on a Saturday morning. But the business in question was his daughter’s care, so good luck telling him it wasn’t a good time.

“I’m sorry to call so early on a weekend,” he said when the thick-voiced manager answered on the other end. “It’s Brock Hanlin.”

Immediately, the manager perked up—he’d heard the news that Anna’s notice had been given. For all the notice it was. She was gone, with no time to ease into the transition.

“No need to worry, Mr. Hanlin,” the manager assured him in the most theatrically encouraging voice Brock had ever heard. “I’ve got a new hire that would be pe

rfect to step in and take Anna’s place. Your little Rynn will love her, and I’m sure you will, too.”