She laughed slightly. “I’m well aware of your nocturnal activities. This is your home, Gage. Feel free to…”—she flung her hands out— “do whatever it is you do. Seriously, no judgment.”
I nodded again—like an idiot—and retreated up the stairs before I could further make an ass out of myself, or tell her why I really needed to get out.
A shower and a fresh change of clothes later, I was speeding away from my house in the Aston Martin toward my best friends and women who wanted the one thing I was capable of giving: my body.
No judgment, she’d said.
Hell if I wasn’t judging myself for this one, though.
Bailey
Chapter 2
Lettie bounced in her perfectly-sized wooden chair at the table Gage had custom built just for her—a replica of the adult table that could seat twelve, which often went unused in the dining room just off the kitchen. Several pieces of cardstock lay spread over the table, along with two mixed boxes of crayons. The girl was only three but she rocked at primary color blends.
“You want scrambled or sunny today, Lettie?” I asked while I got out her favorite purple plate from the kitchen island drawer.
She pushed away a few long brown curls that had fallen in front of her blue eyes. “Sunny. And a muffin!”
I arched an eyebrow at her.
“Please!” she added after a few moments.
I smiled and gave her a nod. “Coming right up.”
The kitchen—which was big enough to fully sustain a houseful of eight—was one of my favorite spots in the house. It was well organized and stocked with top of the line equipment.
When I’d first taken the position of Lettie’s nanny six months ago, I was intimidated by all the gadgetry, but now functioning in it wasn’t only a breeze, it was comfortable. Gage had upgraded the spot in the house with the exact reasoning to ensure it was easy to whip up whatever Lettie was in the mood for. Which was laughable now, since the girl ate maybe six types of food, period.
She was on an egg kick this month, and it was a fun challenge trying to coax her into a wider palate.
“What are you coloring?” I asked her while opening the fridge to snag a few eggs and the whole-wheat blueberry muffins I’d made her yesterday.
“Puppies,” she answered without looking up at me.
The clacking of heels on the marble floor cut off my response. “Looks like a bunch of swirls to me,” the blonde said, glancing over Lettie’s shoulder.
I set the eggs down and locked eyes with Lettie, flashing her an exaggerated fish face to erase the wrinkles scrunched between her eyebrows.
The blonde leaned over the kitchen island, her dozen or so gold bangle bracelets scraping the surface. “God, I need coffee. Cream, two sugars.”
The pot was fresh and full behind me, but I shook my head. “I’m busy.” I turned and grabbed the skillet off the counter.
The girl’s dress—if you could call it that—was a sparkling, wrinkled mess, and though I could tell she’d attempted to wash the old makeup off her face this morning, she still was sporting some fierce raccoon eyes. She huffed. “Some maid.”
A bite of anger nipped at my chest and I set the skillet on the gas burner a little too hard. It never failed, puck-bunnies either thought I was the maid or a wife he never told them about.
“I’m going to tell Gage you were rude to me,” she continued.
I chuckled, cracking an egg and letting it hit the hot skillet. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’ll be hard to tell him without his cell number.”
“How did you know he didn’t…” the girl smacked her lips shut and tossed her hair over her shoulder.
The pain that flickered in her black rimmed eyes almost made me feel sorry for her. Almost. But she’d gotten herself into this mess, just like every other flavor of the night did with Gage.
I’d known him before he became the famous NHL bad boy he was now, but he’d always been an honest man. He’d never let a puck-bunny think she was anything more than that, and there was only one woman in the entire world who owned his heart, and that was Lettie.
In a bracelet-jingling, heel-clacking mess, the girl stomped out of the kitchen and slammed the front door to the house a few moments later.
I swallowed the tiny bit of jealousy that stung my insides--I did not envy the bunnies--I merely hated how they now had a piece of him I’d never had but fantasized about for years. It wrote my plaguing curiosity over what Gage would be like after dark and between his sheets, as nothing more than the crush I’d had on him since we were kids. Of course, those feelings had never left me, only grown stronger...but I credited it to the fact that outside of Jeannine and Paige, he was the best friend I’d ever had.
I slipped Lettie’s sunny-side-egg onto her plate next to the muffin, shoving my feelings down in the locked box where they had always been and would always remain. Gage hadn’t trusted another woman since Helen left, and I knew he’d never look at me as anything more than his best friend or his daughter’s nanny. And I adored Lettie, so crossing the professional line that was firmly in place wasn’t an option even if by some small chance he flirted with the idea. Which he didn’t.
I took Lettie’s plate and a sippy cup full of milk to her table. She quickly put her crayons in her prized black bucket with the Seattle Sharks logo on the front and scooted it to the side.
“Thank you,” she said while grabbing her tiny fork and stabbing at the egg greedily.
I kissed the top of her head and went back to the stove. Gage liked his eggs fried, so I put a few drops of olive oil in the skillet and cracked four of them open. Sipping on a glorious cup of black coffee, I tried to let the puck bunny’s maid assumption roll off my back, but after the hundredth occurrence, it had started to turn my stomach sour.
It was bad enough that my two best friends either ran a Fortune-five-hundred company or earned Michelin stars at her brand new restaurant. Now I had to deal with the puck-bunnies Gage brought home constantly mistaking me for nothing more than his maid?
I sighed and flipped his eggs over.
Screw that. I loved Lettie—she claimed my heart the first night she fell asleep on my chest when even Gage hadn’t been able to soothe her from the night terror she’d awoken from. And though taking care of her wasn’t my life’s ambition—I was still figuring out just what the hell I wanted to do—being her nanny was more rewarding than any job I’d ever had, and now I had the perk of living with her. She was the coolest little girl on the planet and knowing I had her love was worth more than a six-figure paycheck, though Gage did pay me well, and probably more than the average rate.