Swallowing, I sift through all of the responses I worked on, but for some reason, I draw a blank, which means I have to wing it.
Winging it is not my strong suit.
His jaw tightens. “Because if you’re just interested in football—”
“Oh, God, no.” I snort-laugh. “Football is the very last thing I want to talk about.”
Now he’s looking at me weird. Great.
But then he flexes his hand, and it draws my attention to his taut, muscular forearm that’s attached to thick biceps, which stretches his black polo.
I’m staring. My focus snaps back to his eyes, which are narrowed on me.
He has a rugged jaw and gorgeous green eyes, the color of light sea glass, but they’re not the friendliest.
I clear my throat. “Can we start over? I’m super nervous because I’m not great at interviews, but I love kids. I babysat through high school and college, and all of my references will vouch for me. I’m not a great cook, but I can make a mean peanut butter and jelly. And I’ve been watching The Nanny Whisperer since I was little. That show is why I want this job.” I also need to save more money than waiting tables will allow me to do.
Before he can say anything, I pull out my résumé and list of former employers. “I’m an elementary ed major, and I already did my student teaching last spring. Here’s a list of the families I’ve worked for.” I suck in a deep breath before I pass out. “I have other references too.”
As he looks over my materials, I stare at him again.
I’ve heard girls on campus talk about how hot he is, but I’ve never met him in person until now.
And I can one hundred percent agree with their assessment.
Nick Silva is a looker.
His thick, dark brown hair hangs in his face until he blows out a breath. It’s short on the sides and longer on top. But those bottle-glass-green eyes are his best feature. Like, pow, they hit you with force.
Also noteworthy are his great ears and nice nose.
Ears and noses are important because the older you get, the bigger they get. Fun fact.
But his above-average looks are not why I’m here.
Handsome men are all fine and good until they cheat on you. Ask me how I know.
“I need someone reliable.” I’m so focused on his obnoxiously attractive jaw, that his voice startles me. “Sometimes I’m unavailable because I’m at practice or playing in a game, and I have to trust in my nanny’s ability to make good decisions and keep my daughter safe.”
He’s talking about the job. This is a great sign.
“Of course. Child safety should always be the priority in any situation.”
Picking up a pen, he scribbles some notes on a legal pad of paper. “Your CPR accreditation expired.”
“Really?” I pull out another copy of my résumé and, sure enough, it lapsed last month. “Huh. You’re right, but does that much change in CPR techniques from year to year? You do thirty chest compressions for every two breaths to the beat of ‘Staying Alive.’ That’s an old song by the Bee Gees. My mother loves them.”
I sing a few lines because maybe he doubts me, but all he does is glance at me and scribble some more.
Ugh. Maybe that was the wrong answer. “I mean, I’m planning to renew it. If you were that concerned, I could do it next week.”
A group of girls walk by and pause at our table. A gorgeous redhead puts her hand on his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to our date tonight.”
He winks at her before she walks away, and I roll my eyes. What is it with football players? They’re such fuckboys.
Not that I would ever say that to Nick’s face. Or to anyone really. I’m trying to curb my language because future elementary school teachers shouldn’t swear.
He reaches for his glass of ice water, takes a drink, puts it down. His lips go flat. “Look, I’m not sure—”
