“Romeo and Juliet.”
“What role were you?”
Jace rolled his eyes, resigned. “Sam still calls me Romeo occasionally.”
Of course, he was Romeo. He’d be perfect. I wondered who the teenage Juliet was who played opposite him.
“So, you never did magic again?” I asked after unclenching my jaw.
“Not until after high school. I’ve done a few magic shows here and there for kids I babysat, and then during the summer program at the school a few times. I was too busy driving for Lyft, helping Sam with odd jobs, and a few other things to do it any more than that.”
“I’ve never had that many jobs at once. Is there anything you can’t do? Besides cook, that is.”
Jace’s face fell. “Who told you?
I waved him off, trying to keep my face neutral. “No one. I figured it out on my own.”
His voice was flat. “It was Ryla, wasn’t it?
“Oh yeah, she sold you out the first day,” I said, smiling wide.
Jace snapped his fingers. “Damn it. I knew I shouldn’t have been a dog.”
“Was that what you did to buy her silence?”
“It wasn’t just for fun!”
I laughed quietly, mindful of the kids, then tilted my head back and forth, eyes teasing. “Oh, it was fun.”
Well, that came out more rough and ready than I expected.
Seemingly unfazed, Jace dragged the tip of his index finger across his neck. “So, says you. I still have rope burns.”
Watching his lips form the wordsrope burns, his finger dragging over his skin . . . it did something to my gut. A flash of something filthy went through my mind. Heat sizzled in the air between us. I swallowed and Jace’s eyes dipped to my throat. I imagined what his finger would feel like, tracing across my collarbone. Maybe he’d follow it with his lips, skimming their way up my neck as his hands caressed their way down my body.
A sudden snore from Ryla made us both jump and I immediately moved back, deciding I was out of my mind from chlorine, adrenaline, and lust poisoning.
I attempted to stand up, but the cushions were deep and soft, making me fall backward on my first attempt. Jace stood up gracefully on his first try (of course) and held out a hand to me, pulling me to my feet. I stumbled forward a step, my hand pressing into the firm planes of his abdomen, which felt hot and smooth andhardbeneath the black jersey of his shirt. Jace’s smile fell almost imperceptibly, and I stared at his lips, knowing that if I raised myself on my tip toes, our lips would touch. A shudder ran through me at the thought.
“Y’all good?” he whispered.
I gulped. “I’m fine. We should probably get to bed—THEMto bed. The kids. To bed.”
I stepped to the side, trying to act unfazed. Because I was very much fazed. In fact, I wanted to get fazed by Jace over and overand overagain.
I looked down at my sleeping children in front of us and mentally berated myself. I was a pathetic cougar flirting with a guy half my age when my kids were sleeping ten feet away.
Get it together, Mrs. Rochester.
I moved toward Ryla, but Jace got there first.
“I got her. You get Max.” Before I could protest, he slipped his arms under my sleeping six-year-old and lifted easily.
Ryla roused enough to wrap herself around Jace like a spider monkey, then instantly fell back asleep. As I watched Jace carry her up the stairs, I had to force my heart to slow down and my brain not to jump to conclusions—even though there she was, on the edge of the high dive, ready to jump.
He is your kids’ nanny and fourteen years your junior.
But I knew that was unfair. He was more than that. He was my friend.
