Fuck, that’s a hot image.
Max crosses his muscular forearms and leans against the door. “I do a lot of things on my own, Cozy.”
My body hums to life with his use of my nickname. There’s something about when he uses it that makes me forget all about the fact that he’s a corporate, suit-wearing, power-hungry workaholic who represents the opposite of all I want out of life.
Before he turns to leave, I inhale sharply and say, “Hey…you never had your turn.”
“What turn?” he asks, staring curiously back at me.
“The two truths and a lie.” My smile feels wobbly as he tilts his head and eyes me with such fierce determination that I think I need to sit down. I lean on the workbench and feign curiosity while wondering if I’m imagining his eyes roving down my body. “Let’s hear it.”
“Okay…let me think.” His brows quirk as he reaches above his head and braces his hands on the top of the doorframe, showing off a sliver of skin on his waist that reveals the deep lines of his hip bones disappearing into his denim. “I graduated summa cum laude. My ex-wife left me for another woman. And I hate anchovies.”
I laugh at his horrible lie. Honestly, he’s terrible at this game. The man is a millionaire, so clearly very smart, and everyone hates anchovies. My eyes drink in his impossibly perfect body, and I reply, “Your ex is straight, so that’s the lie.” Though how she left him, I’ll never understand.
He smirks knowingly and clicks his tongue. “I never graduated summa cum laude. In fact, I barely graduated college at all.” He winks and taps the frame of the door before disappearing into the garage, leaving me alone in my workshop with a whole lot of wood.
By the end of week two, Everly and I are full-on simpatico. We have perfected the art of sitting, the art of laying, and the art of dancing to Kidz Bop Radio on the deck after lunch. We’ve even successfully navigated the swimming pool three times. Although it should be noted that a life preserver magically appeared beside the pool on Monday morning that I have no doubt was left behind by an overprotective father. I keep it close by just to be safe.
I even got to meet a few other nannies who are watching some of Everly’s private school friends when we all met up for the monthly book club. The kids honored me with the label of “top tier nanny” because I made up a themed charcuterie board to share with everyone. I just took notes from Everly’s book report on 11 Before 12 and filled the board with things pre-teens would love. Ring pops to represent boy crazy thoughts, gummy bears to represent helping the environment, and friendship bracelets to remind them all that despite going into middle school next year, their gal pals are their most important allies. Everly helped me shop for all the supplies, and we had a fabulous time assembling it all. I chuckle to myself when I consider what I might use for a Mercedes Lee Loveletter-inspired board.
Mostly, I was just excited to use the new board I had just made. The workshop Max gave me has twice the supplies that I had in my sister’s garage. And when I found a random scrap of maple that was probably meant for some luxury cabinets, I knew I could get it done relatively quick. Everly even helped apply the food-safe wood wax at the end. Our summer of willy-nilly was off to a great start for sure.
I worried that Max would work from home again after our tense barbecue moment on Friday night. But I think gifting me the workshop was his idea of a peace offering and to show me that despite leaving things off my résumé, he did trust me.
In fact, I’ve barely seen him this entire week. He sent me a text and asked if I could be in the house by six o’clock every morning this week so he could get to the office early. I’d barely catch a glimpse of his perfectly tailored suit before he hightailed it out the door. When he’d come home, he barely made eye contact with me, directing all his attention on Everly.
Rightfully so.
I don’t know why I’d want him to look at me anyway. It seems the more I’m around him, the more questions he asks, and that’s not really a box I care to open with my new boss.
So instead, I text him updates and photos of Everly throughout the day—what we get up to and how Everly’s mood seems. It’s usually nothing exciting or groundbreaking. That would go against our “do less” summer motto. But I think that if I had to leave my daughter every day for work, I’d love to see glimpses of her throughout the day. Even if it’s just a picture of her reading a book by the creek. It’s got to be a healthy dose of serotonin that a full day of the corporate grind requires. Who needs kombucha when you have an adorable blond daughter who looks like literal sunshine?