Gracie's entire face lights up with a megawatt smile. "I want that kind of love for a project someday."
"You'll find it. I'm sure of it."
She lets go of my hand and I feel the loss heavily, like she's taking my heart with her. That is until she stands up and presses a lingering kiss to my cheek.
"Goodnight, Ang. It was good talking to you."
And with nothing more to say, Gracie disappears back into her side of the house. Leaving me feeling more confused than ever as to what I'm going to do with her.
Chapter Twelve
GRACIE
Day two of being a nanny is a success. And by success I mean Everly only threw one fit and I only had to clean up one mess. Chicken nuggets should've been a safe choice for lunch, but alas . . . they were not. I forgot about the mess ketchup could make.
When I picked out my “I squirt on juicy wieners”shirt this morning, I never imagined I would actually be wearing real ketchup halfway through the day. Joke's on me because now I need toShoutthe white shirt.
Oh, and did I mention laundry is my nemesis?
Yes, I'm a grown-ass adult who loses the laundry battle on the regular.
Shrink clothes? Absolutely.
Bleach stains where there shouldn't be? More times than I can count.
Stains that refuse to come out? Hell to the yes.
So do I think my current shirt is salvageable? Probably not.
"Adding to the shirt’s design?" Ang's sudden booming voice has me jumping ten feet in the air with a yelp.
I clutch my chest and spin around. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't hear him come home.
"Sorry." His words say one thing, but he looks more amused than apologetic. "I wasn't exactly being quiet."
"Yes, well, I was too busy thinking about how I'm probably not going to be able to salvage this shirt."
I look down at the large ketchup stain knowing there’s a similar one on the back. How it got there, I have no idea. One of life's greatest mysteries when children are involved apparently.
"A little stain remover and it’ll be good as new."
"HA!" Yes, I actually audibly bark the word, because this situation calls for it. "You haven't seen my laundry skills. I can ruin even the most basic wash cycle."
"Give it to me." Ang puts his hand out and wiggles his fingers. "It's my fault the shirt is stained to begin with, so I might as well clean it for you."
Before I can fully comprehend what I'm doing, I'm pulling the shirt over my head and handing it to him.
I realize my mistake when Ang's Adam's apple bobs.
Shit. I'm standing in front of my employer in my bra and shorts.
I mentally slap my forehead as I cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to reclaim some element of modesty. "I'm just going to . . ." I hike my thumb toward the general area of my room. Then quickly put my arm back over my exposed boobs.
"Ummm . . . yeah. I'll just . . ." Ang waves the shirt I placed in his palm. "Take care of this."
I hightail it to my part of the house like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels.
What the hell was I thinking?
