Being His Nanny (A New Adult Romance): Part 1 Read online

  I washed my poor, puffy, sleepy face with cool water and turned the second light on in the main room. The main room was a tiny sofa, a TV, and a coffee table.

  I couldn’t remember what Harry said to wear to work. I had a problem with listening to people, especially when I really needed to be. Did it matter what I wore? I was going to be stuck behind a counter for four hours, in the wee hours of the morning, I thought grimly, so who cared? I certainly wasn’t going to strut down the catwalk. Then again, it was hot, and I liked to wear dresses. I picked the one I liked the least (but that I still adored) this way if I messed it up, I wouldn’t be that perturbed.

  It honestly looked better without a bra. I was quite surprised with how good I looked considering it was 4:01 am. My blonde hair had an extra wave in it today and was thicker than usual – surely caused by the muggy weather.

  I went out into the hallway. It was so quiet because everyone else was sleeping. The bellhop was sleeping. Was he dreaming? Oh, he had such a darling face. I was outside and hailing a cab in no time.

  “Angel Birmingham’s please,” I said. This cab driver was a lot less menacing-seeming than the last one.

  “It so early,” he said in a chipper voice. “You must work there! Or you’re an extreme coffee addict.”

  “Both, but I work there.”

  “Ah, can you grab me a cup of joe?” he joked.

  “I wish I could. We don’t open until five though.”

  “You are a delight. Where are you from?”

  “South Carolina. I’m visiting for the summer.”

  “May I make some recommendations? For places to go?”

  “Please!” I excitedly spoke. He named a list of places that I hoped I’d be able to remember.

  No one else was at Angel Birmingham’s when I first arrived. I didn’t exactly feel safe standing on the sidewalk with no one else around. I had horrible fantasies of someone kidnapping me and taking me around somewhere and doing horrible things to my pure little self. But what if it was the bellhop? He didn’t seem nearly that sinister.

  “Ello!” Harry snuck up on me and scared the light out of me.

  “Sorry,” he said, but he seemed amused. “If all goes well, I will give you a key soon.”

  I smiled, just relieved to be let in to the café. It was very hot – just gross and stuffy – inside the coffee shop. Harry moved in swift fashion, flicking a light switch that turned on a set of lights in the back all at once, and then slowly the ones in the front followed.

  “Chelsea Pierce,” he called my name like he was calling a lost cat. “This is not a department store. Let’s not make like a mannequin.”

  Yes, it took me a minute to get his jokes. I was standing completely still, because he wasn’t giving me any direction. I didn’t even know where I should put my bag down.

  “What would you like me to do?” I asked.

  He swung around, obviously agitated.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Ms. Pierce – pick flowers? Comb your hair? Or maybe start making coffee? Which of these do you think would be relative to where you are right now?”

  Oh my god, what a creep! I tried to keep my temper at bay. I slowly walked around behind the counter and wedged my bag into a little slot between the ice machine and some nasty bucket full of brown water.

  “What’s that?” I pointed to it. Harry just gave me a look before fixing his hair. Yesterday it looked cemented in perfect position, but today it seemed to lack the proper amount of hair product. I could tell it was stressing him out, too.

  “The machine leaks – look, I’ll give you a tour later – but meanwhile, in about twenty minutes, a line of needy people is going to come through that door and we have nothing ready! Start the coffee!”

  “But how…where?” I whined a bit, and he practically shoved me out of the way.

  “Oh my god, honestly. All my employees do is add more shadows to the walls,” he muttered, pouring a large amount of sweet smelling beans into a machine. Then he held up wrinkled papery things in front of me.

  “You know what these are?” he asked, waving them around in front of my face.

  “Uh…”

  “Filters!” Then he dropped over the counter like he’d been shot. “Oh dear god…she doesn’t know what filters are…” he mumbled into his hands that covered his face.

  He slowly straightened up and found it within himself to breathe properly again. “Okay…do I just need to start with how grass grows? Or can we skip to the matter at hand?”

  “You don’t have to be so mean!” I was about to cry. “Its my first day – I’m nervous.”

  “Okay. You’re not about to host The Oscars. It’s okay. Just breathe. These are coffee beans,” he started over again. Then he tapped his knuckles against the thing he poured the beans into. “This is a grinder,” he spoke to me like I was three. “Think of it as a monster if you want, a monster that likes to eat beans…” then he made a stupid chewing/gnawing sound with his mouth. “You put beans in the monster, the monster chews the beans and spits out espresso grounds, now what do you do with the espresso grounds?”

  “Throw…them…away?”

  “AHHHHH!” He started jumping up and down.

  “Give them back to the monster…?” I guessed again.

  He started flapping around another filter and pacing back and forth. “I just can’t…I can’t…I’ll be back.” He disappeared into a little room in the back of the café, and I waited for him to come back.

  It took about an hour and a half, but once my very nice and patient coworker David arrived, I started to learn a few tasks. Since it was my first day, David placed me by the tower of cups and had me fill them with coffee. I felt like part of a conveyer belt, it was that monotonous. At least until he came in.

  Chapter Three

  I heard him before I saw him. He had a very calm, deep voice. He didn’t talk like the other customers, who tossed out rude demands. Some of them only said one word. “Coffee,” was usually what they muttered. But not him.

  “Large coffee and a hot chocolate, please.” He spoke in a crisp English accent before placing his lovely mouth against the side of his daughter’s head to kiss her. I turned around and saw his beautiful dark blue eyes, his black hair, his sexy stubble because he hadn’t taken the time to shave today. Everything about him was very well put-together. Masculine and yet dapper. His fancy wristwatch, his well-manicured fingernails. His nice black trousers and snug black shirt, complimented with brown leather suspenders. Very fashion forward. Everything fit his incredible body so snug.

  “Actually…” he spoke, I assumed to me, as he put his nice thick fingers on top of the coffee and looked up at the menu. “You guys still do that…” he had a few twenties in his hand as he moved it in a circle. I couldn’t get over how nice he looked. He smelled good too, so good I wanted to move closer to him to breathe in the rich wave of crisp luxury. Oh my god…stop thinking such dirty thoughts! I stared at his broad shoulders, at his nice white teeth, his blue eyes. I don’t know if midnight-blue was a real color or anything, but if it was, that was the color of his eyes.

  He coughed into his hand. “Excuse me,” he smiled politely and it was the first time our eyes met. “Alfonso!” he said.

  “No…” I said, nervously as I played with the lace collar of my dress. “Chelsea.”

  “Oh my gosh.” Harry rushed over to the rescue. “He means the drink – not your name!” Harry laughed, as if why on earth would a handsome, rich man want to know my name.

  “That’s it,” the man charmingly responded before winking at me. “I knew you were not an Alfonso. An Alfonso is what I like to drink…not that…” He never finished what he was going to say.

  Our eyes met again, and this time it was different from before. He wanted to look at me; he didn’t just happen to look at me. I just looked in his eyes. I didn’t have the nerve to look anywhere else. His little girl, who was simply beautiful, whispered something in his ear.

  “She does lo
ok like mommy,” He smiled. Then he looked at me, and for whatever reason, stopped smiling. “You look like my wife.”

  “Oh,” I smiled, pleased. “Where is she?”

  “She’s dead,” he replied. I was shocked by the lack of emotion in his voice. I looked at his little girl when her face scrunched up in a bratty pout.

  “Hey don’t say that about mommy!”

  “Well it’s true,” he told her. He picked up his daughter. Her long curly dirty-blonde hair wrapped around his neck. Her little nose was still all scrunched up. She reached for the hot chocolate and it spilled down the counter, splashing me on the chest.

  “Oh goodness! Penelope, look what you did,” he lectured. “Are you okay? How hot was it?”

  “Its not hot at all,” I stammered, reaching for some napkins.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. All I really heard was how hot his accent was, followed by the wails coming from Penelope.

  “Oh my goodness.” The man tried to get his bearings. He picked Penelope up like she was light as a feather. “I will pay for your dress,” he said. “How much was it?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that…” My eyes wandered over to the long line building behind him. Oh, this day.

  “Please,” he refused to take no for an answer. I couldn’t get over the masculine shape of his face, strong, square jaw, those eyes. That stubble. The boys back home I knew could never grow stubble like that. His chest looked solid as a brick wall. I watched as he brought a ton of cash from his wallet. “It means nothing to me,” he said, looking directly into my eyes. His blue eyes looked a bit icy when I just stood there. I finally took the money – which was way, way more than the dress cost.

  “I’ll make…make you another hot chocolate.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can go to Danny’s. You’re very busy.”

  “Its not…”

  “Please.” He frowned, his face taking on quite a sinister shape when he did so. I backed off and watched as he picked up Penelope and walked out. They got into the long, black limo parked out front.

  “Jesus, that asshat,” Harry said, slamming the register drawer shut.

  “You don’t like him?”

  Harry let out a little laugh. “Jackson Maxwell? You’re asking me if I don’t like Jackson Maxwell?” He just looked at me for a minute, this funny, frozen look on his face. I no longer thought Harry as cute, because he was just so annoying to me now. “No, nor do I like cancer very much or the paralyzing affect of death. I need you to wipe off this counter and go around and collect all the cups people left behind because throwing them into the trashcan is like expecting a spaceship to land right here in front of us.”

  Jackson Maxwell had given me two-hundred euros. I didn’t even realize it until I finally had a chance to go to the bathroom. Between that and the tips I made, I almost had two-hundred dollars and fifty in my pocket by the time I left work! It almost made getting up at 3:30 am not seem so terrible.

  It was only eight thirty am in the morning when I left work. It was so early. I sat on a bench and looked up where our classes would be held. Thankfully, it was only a short distance away. Three miles away. Look at that! Could I walk three miles before nine? Probably. I guess tomorrow would be the only way to find out. I would hate to have to catch two cabs every morning. There was one thing I needed to get…an extra large umbrella. No doubt it would soon rain during these early mornings.

  I was a little tired and felt very dirty. Part of me wanted to go shopping and buy something fun with my money, but I also knew I should hold onto it. Two different voices argued in my head as I wandered aimlessly around the neighborhood I’d yet to explore. So what was the deal with Jackson Maxwell? Harry really seemed perturbed by him. I couldn’t help but smile a little when I thought of Harry. What a funny little man – getting all bent out of shape over the smallest things.

  I kept walking so eventually the little fancy, expensive boutiques became luxurious homes and then the homes became just trees. Good lord, where was I?

  I stopped and looked at the street signs (as if that would help) I was still lost as ever.

  I read a few of the street signs when all of the sudden a long, black limo pulled up in front of me. The window automatically, smoothly rolled down. I couldn’t see who was behind it because it was tinted. Then, I saw his handsome face.

  “You still haven’t replaced the dress,” he pointed, sounding disappointed, as his finger pretty much aimed at my chest. His eyes too.

  “I know, haven’t had time. It’s barely even ten thirty in the morning,” I shyly spoke as I covered my eyes from the sun peeking through the clouds. I hadn’t realized I had walked for so long. A pretty harsh wind blew, picking up the one piece of trash around.

  “Well if you’re planning on doing it out here, you won’t find much.” God, his accent. I could barely understand him.

  “I’m kinda just wanderin’…around.” My accent on the other hand made me sound so dumb, I was sure. I slowly approached the limo. I didn’t see his little girl anywhere, just a champagne flute and a briefcase. I wondered what was in the briefcase. It was very peaceful in there – just some sort of indie music on a very low volume.

  “Well…” Our eyes paused on one another. Then his eyes fell shamelessly to my breasts. “You don’t want to keep this way – eventually it turns a bit grimy.” Only he could make the word “grimy” sound like it stood for something nice.

  “Grimy?” I sort of sighed.

  “Yes, a girl like you should not go that way.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He smiled, amused. “Trust me, okay? Would you like a ride back to the Quarter? Its no problem.” The Quarter was what everyone called the neighborhood I worked in. “I will tell you the best places to shop…or we can take you right back to where you live.”

  “Um…”

  “Darling, I don’t want to spend all day here.” He didn’t seem like he was made of patience. I felt a bit pressured, but I got in the back of the limo.

  “Turn around, Will,” Harry informed the driver.

  “Wow,” I looked around. The long leather seats were so smooth. I could stretch all the way out and go to sleep if I wanted. “I’ve never been in a limo before,” I decided to share.

  “Really?” Jackson seemed amused as he poured champagne into a glass and handed it to me.

  “Oh no, thank you.”

  He laughed a little. “Are you kidding?”

  “I’m just twenty-one,” I said, very soft. He had this crazy effect on me. I was nervous, I could barely function.

  “You’re perfectly legal. Take the champagne; its very expensive. It’s rude to not accept a gift,” he lectured. I took the champagne. I was too nervous to drink it at first. I had just turned twenty-one a month before. I still felt twenty. I felt stupid for saying I’m just twenty-one. So I quickly said, “It’s…uh, still morning.”

  “Indeed it is. Almost lunch time though. I’m just doing a little celebrating. Closed a big deal.”

  “Where were you going?” I asked him. He did not respond. Instead, he leaned forward to change the music.

  “Chelsea, have you noticed that every second-to-the-last-song on every album just isn’t that good?”

  “I…no…”

  “My theory is that its because they have to have a filler – you know? They have to have enough songs on the record.” I loved how he said record, pronouncing it reee-cord. “So they put the song – the filler – on there and it’s usually never the last because the last song will leave an impression, you know?” He looked at me as I finally sipped the champagne. “Are you listening to me?” he asked.

  “Yes, you were talking about records – reeecords,” I playfully mocked. He was not amused. “I’m sorry…” I quickly apologized. “Sir.”

  He studied me for a minute, his expression not changing. I sipped my champagne and realized we’d passed The Quarter. I started to point this out when he spoke up.

  “How do
you like working at the coffee shop?”

  “Oh,” I smiled a little. “Today was my first day – its so busy there.”

  “How do you like working at the coffee shop?” he repeated, wooden.

  “Um…I don’t, I guess.”

  “What would you rather be doing?” he asked next. I really wanted to know where we were going.

  “Sleeping,” I joked.

  “So you’re lazy,” he assumed.

  “No, I just have to get up very early. Actually, I took the job to earn a bit of extra money. I’m here on a summer acting extensive. My classes begin at nine until three. I wanted to have the remainder of my day off to rehearse.”

  He studied me intently. His eyes narrowed in on me, as if he were reading my innermost thoughts. Something about that dark stare made me clear my throat nervously and re-cross my legs. “An acting extensive?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you like to act.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Are you any good at it?”

  “I like to think so.” I nervously tapped against the flute. “Of course, I have areas that need improvement. That’s why I’m here. To learn.”

  “To learn.”

  He said the words slowly and he kept those laser eyes on me. I felt chills surface from my body from head to toe. Oh my god, what was he thinking!?

  “Ye…yes. Can I ask you what you do?”

  “I do a lot of things,” he said, pouring me more champagne. “I have to also look after my daughter. She despises any nanny I hire. It’s causing me a bit of a headache, actually.”

  “Oh…”

  “She misses her mother; she doesn’t understand what death means. She doesn’t understand that she’s never coming back. She likes you, though. I find that odd,” he said, before looking out of the window. “She never likes anyone.” He looked back at me.