Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(73)

“I'm shaking,” she admits, but I just smile.

“I know.”

“Can we go pierce my eyebrow now?”

I tilt my head back with a laugh and then drop my chin, pressing a kiss to Brooke's forehead.

That gentle, easy touch … it makes us both shiver.





I seriously cannot believe I just did it in the middle of Old Town. Like, anybody could've seen us. And I so totally didn't give a shit.

I wrap my arms around myself and pretend like I'm not wet and uncomfortable downstairs. Too embarrassing to talk about that with Zayden. While he's driving, I send off some secret texts to my girlfriends back in Berkeley, telling them to call me or better yet—come visit my ass like yesterday.

“You didn't tell me your brother lived over here,” I say as we pull into a slightly shadier area of town, down a street populated entirely with copies of the same duplex in different colors.

“Yeah, well, my poor bro works his butt off as an insurance salesman and he and his wife really wanted to own their own place …” Zay trails off a little as we pause in front of a green and white duplex with a really beautiful right side decorated in flowers and outdoor statuary … and the other side, well, not so beautiful. “They bought this place with the life insurance money our parents left us.” Zay eyes the ugly side of the duplex with his pierced brow cocked up in disgust. “And then they rented out one half to this doucher over here.” He points his thumb in that direction as we pull into the driveway behind a beat up old Geo Metro. “They've tried to evict the fucker, but he always threatens to sue 'em or squat or whatever the fuck.”

Zay parks the car and we climb out, slamming the doors closed behind us.

Not ten seconds later, some guy with a beard and a shotgun comes out the front door of the ugly duplex and points the muzzle at Zayden.

“You fucked with my crop, you piece of shit,” he says as I put my palms up and take a small step back. Zayden just tucks his hands into his back pockets and stares the guy down.

“What are you gonna do about it, you baby hating motherfucker? The law says you can have six plants. Not, like, thirty. And not to sell. Go eat a dick and stop banging on the wall. The next time you do it, it won't be your weed that I snip off.” Zay makes a cutting motion with his fingers as the man cocks his shotgun and takes a step forward, his hands shaking with rage.

Uh-oh.

What the hell did you do, Zayden?

“Shoot me. In the front yard. With several witnesses. How do you think that shit'll go down?”

I don't exactly think antagonizing a guy with a gun pointed at your chest is the best idea in the world, but … it's kind of hot to see Zayden standing up for himself. I dig my phone out of my back pocket and start up a live video feed, just in case.

“This guy's threatening to shoot us. I hope it's just a joke,” I say as I point the camera at the bearded guy in the Go Fuck Yourself t-shirt. “I'm trying to decide if I should call the cops or not. What do you think, Zay?”

“Naw. I think this asshole's going to go back inside and start looking for alternative housing. I don't think you've got much room to threaten my brother anymore. If you don't want us to show this video to the police, then you won't wait for him to evict you. Get the fuck out of my face.” Zay shoves the shotgun to the side and turns around without waiting for a response.

I keep the phone up as I take a few steps back and then follow Zay around the corner and down the short walkway to the front door. Shotgun Man never takes his focus off of Zayden, but before we can even get the front door unlocked, I feel the house shake with a slammed door from the opposite side.

“What did you do?” I whisper and Zayden shrugs, avoiding a really small, very badly burned paper bag on the porch. Really? People still burn shit bags as a prank? I guess Shotgun Man really was pissed.

“Every time Sadie cried, the asshole slammed his fist against the wall. I got sick of it, so I took my sister-in-law's clippers and cut down his crop. Every last plant. I have no clue what exactly that means for him because I don't smoke the shit, but”—Zayden shrugs as he unlocks the door and smiles at me—“it sure seemed to piss him off.”

“Depends on the strain. Might just decrease the yield; might change the high, make it less potent, more short-lived,” I say and then shrug back at him when he raises his eyebrows. “You didn't learn anything growing up around here? This is Pot Capital, USA.” Zayden grins at me and shoves the door open, holding his hand out to welcome me in.

“Well, look at you. So full of fun facts.” He reaches out and pokes me in the shoulder playfully. Too bad all that small touch does is reignite the wetness between my legs. I suck in a harsh breath. “Feel free to check the place out. I'll be right back. Gotta grab something from my piece of shit car.”