Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(90)

Even as I'm slamming my car door and heading up the front walk to the house, I'm fuming as I think about Tinley heading to Vegas with her girlfriends, stopping by Zayden's shop and throwing herself at him. He's made no secret of the fact that he's a pretty indiscriminate lover. Surely they'll sleep together. And then I will be the one that'll have to sit in class with her, maybe even listen to her stories. But I invited her over in the first place because I refuse to be friendless in this hellhole—even if it means being friends with a girl Zayden screwed in the backseat of that little Geo.

Yeah. I got the whole story in excruciating detail from Tinley.

I shove some hair over my shoulder and let myself in to find Zayden singing “Africa” to Sadie again. It's hard to keep the smile off my face, but I manage, closing the door softly behind me and leaning against it.

When he starts singing about wild dogs and Mount Kilimanjaro, that's when I start to chuckle.

“Hey, this song is a classic,” Zayden says as he pauses and checks on the baby, making a squinched face of triumph. “Yep. See? Works every time.”

Zayden bends down and lays Sadie on her back, covering her with a small pink blanket and stepping back with a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips and glances over at me.

“How was your drink date?” he asks as I move over to the couch and drop my purse onto it, shrugging myself out of the giant coat. “Meet any cute guys while you were out?”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Don't do that,” I say and Zayden raises his eyebrows.

“Do what?” he asks, all perfect innocence in his face and voice.

“That. Act like … this,” I point between the two of us, “isn't happening. Do you really think I'd be checking men out tonight? With you waiting at home for me?”

“Listen,” Zayden says, lifting a tattooed finger at me. “I'm not acting like anything. You're a single girl. If you want to check men out while hanging with a friend, who am I to stop you?”

“You're right. Just like you were flirting with Tinley, giving her your phone number, letting her hit on you right in front of me. A girl you took to prom. Don't you think that was a little awkward for me, Zayden?”

“Look, I'm sorry about that. How the hell was I supposed to know you were going to show up with Tinley Horton on your arm? That's just a freak coincidence right there. And if you'll take note, I did not flirt back, okay?”

“Are you going to take her call?” I ask as Zay raises his pierced brow at me. Mine seems to throb and hurt all of a sudden, but I think I'm just imagining it, pausing as I hear “Africa” start up on repeat. Who the hell does that? Puts “Africa” on repeat a hundred times and sings it off-key like that? “When she's in Vegas, are you going to fuck her?”

“I have no fucking clue,” Zayden says and I feel my hands curl into fists. The way he's looking at me, like my feelings aren't his problem, is heartbreaking. I get that this thing between us is temporary, that we were both using each other, but wow. If I needed a memo from him to remind me that he doesn't care, I'm getting it now. “What does it matter?”

“Don't you have to stop by your brother's place?” I ask as I move around the couch and grab the baby monitor off the coffee table. “I'll be asleep when you get back, so maybe you should stay on the couch?”

“Brooke,” Zayden starts, but I'm already on my way up the stairs. When I hear him following me, I sprint faster, trying to lock myself into the bedroom before he can get there. He puts his boot in the way of the door anyway and pushes his way in.

Damn.

I was really only prepared for one dramatic exit.

“Hey, look, I don't want you to be upset,” he says as I sit on the edge of the bed and hold the baby monitor in my lap like it's a shield. I didn't mean for my feelings to come out. Really, I didn't. I can't imagine that all of the twisty things I feel when he's around mean anything at all. This is the first guy I've ever slept with, so of course I'm going to feel some sort of attachment to him. I'd prepared myself for this.

What I hadn't prepared myself for was exactly how much I'd like him.

Zayden sits down on the edge of the bed next to me, our thighs pressed together in a warm line, one of his tattooed hands—the one with the open book—coming to rest on my knee. The tender way he touches me, and the softness in his voice when he speaks, they almost make things worse.

“Hey, if you want me to block Tinley's number, I will.” There's a long pause there before he digs his phone out of his back pocket and shows it to me, scrolling through his texts and finding the one she sent over to give him her number. He blocks it as I watch. “There. Is that better?”