I turn away, unable to look at Allison, because all I can do is compare myself to her. She’s beautiful. Perfect blonde bob with sun-kissed streaks that probably cost a fortune to have done at a salon. Designer linen pants. Expensive perfume. Elegant diamond earrings that glint in the morning sun. I feel like a husband-stealing tart next to her, which I know isn’t rational, but my emotions don’t want to focus on rational rightnow.
“Jesus, Allison. Stop being such a…” Ethan stops mid-sentence and shakes his head. “Look, I’m not doing this withyou.”
“Not doing what? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t have hookups around thekids.”
He leaps off the side of the truck. “She’s the nanny and a friend, okay? Layoff.”
“Are you kidding me?” she shrieks, making me flinch. “How clichéd can you get? Are you seriously fucking thenanny?”
Embarrassment scorches my skin that already feels so brittle it mightcrack.
Logan wraps his arm around my shoulder and steers me toward the house. “You probably don’t want to be around for this. It’s gonna getugly.”
Understatement of the year,I think with my heart in my throat as I walkaway.
Hunched over the bathroom sink,I stare at my dirty feet, wishing I’d been wearing shoes when I slunk from Ethan’s truck to thehouse.
All those warnings from my mother come rushing back to me. ¿Quieres que te llamen una callejera?Do you want them to call you a stray? Or the more insidious definition ofcallejera, streetwalker.
It’s always “them” with my mom. Meaning the neighbors or my school mates. People at church. Anyone who could witness my reproachable behavior.Them.
She’d be mortified if she ever found out about thismorning.
Braving a glance, I finally look into the mirror andcringe.
My eyes are bloodshot, that smokey makeup I applied yesterday sits like sludge beneath my lower lashes, and my hair looks like an F4 tornado blasted throughit.
Awesome first impression, Victoria. No wonder Allison hatesyou.
As quickly as my churning stomach allows, I crawl in the shower and wash my hair, desperately trying to scrub off all traces of lastnight.
By the time I’m dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, the house is still eerilyquiet.
With sudden clarity, the reality of what happened this morning slams intome.
Will Ethan regret last night? Will he change his mind aboutus?
A sad laugh escapes me.It’s too early for there to be anus.
Despite what my silly heart wants to lament, I should be worried Allison will make Ethan fireme.
See,tontita, this is why you don’t hook up with youremployer.
The thought makes me pause because Ethan doesn’t feel like my boss exactly. I mean, I work hard around here, but I like him and his family, and he really does feel like a friend at this point. And, hell yeah, I like him as more than afriend.
Standing in the doorway of my room, I force myself to bite the bullet and see what kind of fallout happened after I returned to thehouse.
I find Ethan leaning against the kitchen counter. Shoulders slumped, head down, he looks deep in thought. Off to the side, Mila’s coloring at the table. Her eyes are puffy, and her cheeks areflushed.
“Hey. Where’s Cody?” I ask softly, afraid that a loud sound will shatter whatever fragile state they’rein.
I park myself next to Mila, and she immediately hops out of her seat and into mylap.
When I kiss the top of her head, it’s hard to miss the fact no one brushed her hair this morning. “Hey, honey. Did you have a good time with yourmomma?”
She shrugs and wipes her eyes. Although Allison’s Lexus was parked a decent distance from the truck—I could barely see it along the side of the house when I came in—I’m guessing Mila and her brother were still in the back seat. Based on Mila’s expression, she probably heard everyoneyelling.
Ethan clears his throat, still not looking at me. “Cody’s with Logan. They’ll be backsoon.”
