CEO Daddy (Crescent Cove 6.50)

“No, no, Bess, thank you. The tea and cookies are perfect. But I’m sorry, I can’t stay long.”

Naturally not. Since the mere sight of me was obviously off-putting enough that she needed to flee.

Except she hadn’t wanted the job before she knew it was me.

Still, the impossibility of our situation was hard to ignore. Had blind luck pushed her my way? Or something else?

I waited until my grandmother and Hannah had taken seats on the sofa before I got right to business.

“So, how did you two meet?”

“Ordinarily, he’s a charmer, I swear,” Gran muttered.

Hannah simply dabbed her mouth with her napkin. I guess she didn’t want to weigh in on that score.

“I have a dog-sitting service. I was walking one of my customers’ dogs when Bess went out for a walk. Latte took a liking to Lily. Her great-grandchild,” she stressed, narrowing her eyes at me as if somehow I’d forgotten our familial relationship.

Or as if she was none too happy I’d left that detail out of our night together.

Why, I couldn’t fathom. Was no-strings sex different with a single father? She hadn’t seemed to mind.

It wasn’t as if she’d been completely forthcoming either. I didn’t know she was a dog-sitter. Did that even count as an actual job? It wasn’t my place to say how she made her money, but it was a far cry from my daily lifestyle, that was for sure.

And if I was more than a bit envious at the freedom that seemed synonymous with such work, I must be sleep deprived.

“Does your expertise at walking canines somehow grant you skill with human children?”

Hannah’s jaw locked just before my grandmother slammed down her plate. “Asher Heathcliff Wainwright, you have no call to speak to a guest like that in my home. What is the matter with you today?”

Before I could reply, Hannah let out a laugh, but she quickly coughed into her hand to cover it. “Heathcliff? Such a romantic name.”

My grandmother shook her head and picked up a cookie. I’d been given a momentary respite from her ire thanks to Hannah’s comment. “His mother had her flights of fancy.”

“Does it hold true, I wonder?” Hannah sipped her iced tea.

“Does what hold true?”

She still didn’t look my way. “Heathcliff was a difficult sort. Sometimes we become our namesakes unintentionally. A sort of kismet.”

“He’s not real,” I snapped.

This was not the first time someone had commented on my middle name, but it seemed particularly annoying coming from her. I was already pissed at her for wanting her so much.

Which

was not her problem at all, yet I couldn’t help holding her responsible.

That was added to the indignity of her not wanting to take my nanny position, even before she knew it was mine.

I wasn’t above being ridiculous, and today proved it.

“No, but he’s a staple of literature. He may as well be real. I can’t begin to count the ways Wuthering Heights has influenced storytelling and movies and even culture—”

“Why don’t you want the nanny job?” I demanded.

I expected her to deflect and deny. That was what most polite, uncomfortable people did. I was surely showing no tact whatsoever. But she met my frank question with an equally honest answer.

“Because I don’t want to take care of anyone else right now but me.”