Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(13)

“It's been about five for me,” she says with a soft smile, one that turns the slightly harder angles of her face to gentle lines. I watch her tuck some silken hair behind an ear and wish I could tangle it around my fingers. “I just moved back.”

I make a face.

“Aw, bummer.” I snap my fingers when she raises her brows at me. “I mean, unless you like living here. It's kind of … in the middle of fucking nowhere.” The girl leans her head back, the perfectly smooth angle of her throat even more enticing when she laughs.

“That's true. But I didn't exactly have a choice about moving back.”

“Damn. I'm here on a temporary basis and then it's,” I point a pair of fingers in the direction of the zoo, “back to Vegas.”

“Vegas, huh?”

“Yup.”

“How'd you decide to move there?”

I let my mouth curve up at both corners, right into a nice easy smile. Brooke follows the movement, her eyes drawn to my face as she struggles to catch her breath. Yup. Got this one in the bag. She wants me; I want her. What's there to lose?

“Vegas never sleeps. There's always something—or somebody—new to do.” I wink at her and her smile fades a little. Hmm. Interesting. Okay. Different tactic. “So you grew up here? I don't remember seeing you around when I was in high school?”

“When did you graduate?” she asks as she looks up at me, fresh-faced and sexy. I could capture that chin in my fingers, pull her in for a kiss. We could … hell, I dunno, load the kids up on sugar and soda and watch 'em crash. Then maybe I could take her upstairs to my brother's bedroom …

“Eleven years ago,” I say with a loose shrug. Brooke raises her brows and nods her head.

“Five years ago,” she says and then it's my turn to raise my eyebrows. I glance over my shoulder at that brunette kid that looks just like her. Whoa. She must follow my train of thought because she shakes her head and lifts up her hands, a plastic ring with a candy jewel gleaming from her ring finger. Makes me grin. “They're not my girls. I mean, they are now, but … they're my sister's kids.”

“Ah,” I say as I realize Brooke and I are in the same boat. “Hey, I know all about taking care of other people's brats.” Even better. No kids. Even less chance of any sort of … I don't, complications or whatever. “So where's your sister at?” I realize as soon as I say it that there's a chance her sister could be dead, and I could be stirring up awful memories.

“She … left the country to be with her boyfriend.” There's a long pause before she looks up at me. In the background, a bunch of kids dart into the forest with foam swords and full suits of plastic armor. Heh. “They're both addicts. It's not a good situation. My sister was an awful mother, but the girls miss her like crazy.”

“No dad?” I ask and Brooke shakes her head again, that long hair of hers fluttering defiantly in the breeze, no matter how hard she tries to stop it. It hits all the way down to her ass. It'd be perfect to pull …

“She doesn't know who the girls' dads are.” Brooke rolls her eyes and sighs, glancing over at the blond kid. “Or if she does, she won't tell anybody about them.”

“So that leaves you to shoulder all the responsibility? That's rough for a twenty … three year old?” I guess.

“Close. Twenty-two. I was seventeen when I graduated.”

“Ah, so you really are a smarty-pants, huh?” Brooke smiles and shrugs her shoulders, but I can tell she's proud of herself. I lean in close and let my mouth get enticingly close to Brooke's ear, enjoying the way her body shivers and her hands curl into fists. “So, Smarty-Pants, tell me, what else do you do?”

“Do?” she asks, jerking back from me like a frightened rabbit, all jumpy and twitchy all of a sudden. “Like, as in a job?” I nod and she bites her lip, glancing away toward the forest to her right. It's a protected swath of redwood trees and trails, one of which leads to a hundred year old stone fireplace and a duck pond. The others … well, I've always been kind of a lazy gamer asshole. It's not like I've hiked a single one of them. “I have an interview for this evening. I know it's … weird to have an interview in the evening, but I guess the manager wants to make sure I can actually show up? I don't know.”

“Where at?”

Brooke's cheeks flame as I lean back and watch her with my curiosity—and a few other things—piqued.

“That gas station down on Broadway, the twenty-four hour one.”

“Aw, a Smarty-Pants like you?” I ask and she sighs, digging her nail into the wood of the table.