Prologue
April
ABIGAIL
I’m in such a rush to get to the interview on time, I trip as I get out of my old Corolla, land on my knee, and tear a hole in my khakis.
Dang it.
Maybe he won’t notice the blood. At least it matches my red cardigan, which I button.
Limping across the parking lot, I tug my messenger bag up my shoulder and hope my résumé didn’t get squished. I really need this job, or I’ll be stuck waiting tables all summer. That would be fine if I hadn’t waitressed all through high school and college.
I just need to do something different for the next few months to save money for my trip. If I’m really lucky, he’ll want me to keep working this fall, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.
I graduate this winter and need to get a teaching position, so this is my only chance to work as a nanny before I get a more permanent job.
The rich smell of dark roast hits me as soon as I swing open the door to the Rise ’N Grind Cafe, which is my favorite place in Charming to get coffee.
I scan the restaurant, which is also a bookshop. I spot him along the back at a two-top, parked in front of the rack of magazines.
Nick Silva.
At the sight of him, my heart beats wildly.
Not because I like him or anything, though he is ridiculously handsome. It’s just… I’ve had really bad luck when it comes to quarterbacks, and Nick is the six-foot-three-inch starting QB for the Lone Star State Broncos. He’s a single dad with a young daughter who needs a nanny.
Please don’t ask me about Ezra.
Roxy is always telling me to be optimistic. As I replay the pep talk she gave me last week about turning my life around, I push my clear-framed glasses up my nose and pat down my messy bun. I can do this.
He seems to be wrapping up an interview, so rather than stare like a weirdo, I get an iced coffee, but I start to second-guess this decision when my hands shake as I’m reaching for my beverage.
Calm down, Abigail. He’s not going to throw you into a pit of snakes.
I take several sips as I wait for the pretty brunette at Nick’s table to get up. They’re smiling at each other, and he’s nodding.
Shoot. I hope the position isn’t filled yet.
As I walk to his table, I make a concerted effort not to run into anyone or trip. When I get to his table, he’s shuffling through a stack of résumés.
“Hi, Nick. I’m Abigail, your one o’clock appointment.”
He looks up and nods, but before I can sit, his eyes go right to the hole in my pants.
Ugh.
I start to sweat.
When he doesn’t say anything, I feel the need to fill in the silence. As I slide onto the chair, a string of word vomit bursts forth. “I tripped, but I’m fine. Just ignore the blood. I didn’t have time to get a Band-Aid.” Dang it. Maybe he thinks I’m not prepared to take care of children. “I usually carry one in my bag, but it must’ve fallen out. Did you know that some cultures use wet clay as a poultice? Once, when I was little, I tried using mud, but I… just got… an infection.”
Shut up, Abby!
I expect him to kick this off with some random chitchat. In fact, I practiced this morning in the mirror. I’m from San Antonio. I love knitting and working with kids. I drive a manual stick shift. That’s cool for a girl, right? My friends and I love playing Scrabble. Did you know that the highest two-letter word score is “za?” As in pizza? It was officially approved as a word in 2006. And I adore cats! I had one named Mr. Darcy, but he died. Do you have any cats?
“Tell me why you want this job.”
What? Where’s the chitchat or softball questions?
