Holt grinned up at me as he beeped the locks on his fancy-ass Mercedes SUV. “You think we’re gonna miss the show this time?”
I sent a glare in my youngest brother’s direction.
Nash shrugged, pushing his dark blond hair out of his eyes. “You really think I could sit on the fact that someone you arrest on a regular basis applied to be your nanny?”
I groaned. “I really don’t need an audience for this.”
Roan’s lips twitched. He was smiling a lot more now that he had Aspen in his life. It was still unnerving. I was used to seeing my brother with a perpetual scowl on his face.
“Well, you’re getting an audience. This way, you can’t cut perfectly good candidates,” he muttered.
“And we get a couple of hours of amusement,” Holt echoed, heading up my steps.
Nash followed him. “You got any snacks?”
I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “F my life.”
Roan slapped me on the back. “Is that what the kids are saying these days?”
No, it was whatIwas saying. Because my interfering brothers were going to make this interview process hell.
* * *
The woman sittingacross from me kept looking into the kitchen and frowning. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, highlighting the gray streaks running through it. “What do the children have for breakfast?”
She kept calling them that:the children.
“Depends on the day. But on school days, it’s usually cereal,” I answered.
Her frown deepened. “Sugary cereal?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nash freeze, his spoonful of Cap’n Crunch halfway to his mouth.
“That’s no way to start the day,” Mrs. Archibald continued. “They need a mix of protein, long-lasting carbs, and fruits.”
I shifted in my seat. “I’m sure a warm breakfast would be welcome.” I started to ask Mrs. Archibald about her previous placement when she cut me off.
“What about schedules? Children need strict schedules.”
The wordstricthad my skin prickling. I mean, it was better than the first candidate, who had only asked what kind of cable package I had, if she could buy snacks with a company credit card, and whether I minded if she had an occasional beer while on the job. But I didn’t want my kids with a drill sergeant either.
“Charlie, Drew, and Luke all have very different schedules.” I stressed their names, annoyed that Mrs. Archibald hadn’t used them once. “Drew is on several sports teams. Charlie has quite a few playdates. And Luke is sixteen, so he goes more his own way.”
“It sounds like the children run the show around here,” Mrs. Archibald said, her tone dripping with disdain.
Holt hid a laugh with a cough.
“They don’trunanything, but they are my number-one priority, and I’ll do anything to make sure they’re happy, healthy, and safe.” Annoyance began bleeding into my tone.
“They sound quite spoiled. We’ll have to change that. I recommend waking them two hours before they must leave for school. They will help with chores around the house, make ahealthybreakfast—there will be no more processed sugar in this home—and do calisthenics before we depart. Homework must be done as soon as they get home, and I will check it before they are permitted to do anything else.”
The room went silent. I simply stared at the woman opposite me.
Roan grunted to my right. “Is this lady for real?”
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Archibald said, clearly affronted.
“On the upside, from the sound of things, you’d be building your own army of foot soldiers,” Holt offered.
