The girl in the photo can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen years old. She’s in that awkward phase we all had in our early teens, donning both braces and acne. Dark hair is slicked back in a tight ponytail, visor shading her face and a bright yellow T-shirt with number fourteen centered on the front. Softball player, with her too-big sleeves cinched together with some sort of band on each shoulder. A pitchers’ glove rests on a single knee as she poses for her season photo.
Monty would have a softball-playing daughter.
“She’s free for the summer and I want her to travel with us,” he continues.
Makes sense, she’s out of school for the summer.
“Yeah, but Monty, this is my kid we’re talking about.”
“And mine.” His brows raise, daring me to say something against this plan. “It’s not a question, Ace. I’m telling you this is happening. I’m tired of you finding something wrong with every single person we hire. We’re doing background checks every few weeks for someone new, and changing names on the hotel rooms and plane manifests is becoming a pain in the ass for the travel coordinators. She’s Max’s new nanny, and the best part about it is she’s my kid and you can’t fire her.”
Shit.
“She’s only free until September so we’ll have to find someone else to finish the last bit of the season, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
It’s clear there’s no getting out of this. I owe him for everything he’s done for Max and me, and he fucking knows it.
If I have to leave my son with someone who isn’t me, I guess this isn’t the worst possible solution. This is a nanny that’s probably too young to give a shit about a bunch of pro baseball players, and her dad will most likely be watching her like a hawk anytime she’s not taking care of Max, which takes that responsibility off my shoulders.
What’s two months? Just double the time I’ve gone without firing someone.
“Can she drive?” I ask.
His brows furrow in confusion. “What?”
“Like if something happens to Max while I’m not around, can she get him to the hospital?”
“Yeah . . .”
Okay, that’s good. She’s at least sixteen. That photo is probably a couple of years old at this point.
“Is she responsible?”
“She’s . . .” he hesitates. “She’s responsible at work.”
Weird answer.
The door to his hotel makes that noise when the electric lock is being undone by a keycard. Over my shoulder, dark hair enters first as a woman walks in backwards, using her ass to open the door.
Chocolate hair. Frayed hem to her shorts. Thick thighs.
She turns around and Miss Double Fisting from the elevator is standing in my coach’s hotel room. And she’s double fisting again, only this time it’s with a couple of coffee cups.
I adjust my glasses on my face to make sure I’m seeing this correctly. Green eyes connect with mine.
“You.” The word comes out part seething, part shock.
She sighs, her shoulders dropping. “I had a feeling it was going to be you.”
Huh?
“Ace, meet my daughter, Miller Montgomery. Max’s new nanny.”
My head whips back in his direction. “You’re kidding me.”
“Miller, Kai Rhodes. You’ll be taking care of his son this summer.”
“Absolutely not,” I quickly interject.
Miller rolls her eyes, handing her dad one of the two coffees.
How is this possible? She sure as hell isn’t thirteen or fourteen. She’s a full-grown woman who drinks beer and apparently doesn’t sleep. The acne is long cleared up, leaving tanned, flawless skin, and her braces have created perfectly straight teeth in a mouth that says whatever the hell it wants.
She looks like a Miller, though. That wild tomboy thing she’s got going for her with her cutoff overalls and tattoos.
“She’s not watching my kid.”
Miller takes the seat next to mine and points at me with her thumb, giving her dad a look that says, this fucking guy.
Monty laughs—traitor.
“You two have met already, I see.”
“Yeah, she was double fisting beers in the elevator at 9 a.m.”
“Dear God.” She throws her head back, and that raspy voice mixed with the sexual way my brain took that phrase has my cock betraying me. “They were Coronas. Do you know the alcohol content in those? That’s some people’s form of hydration.”
“I don’t care.” I face her dad. “I won’t leave someone like that in charge of Max.”