Winning The Nanny's Heart

He glanced at his phone again. Nothing from Charity. Damn. The last thing he wanted to do was take the kids with him. He’d had to do that a few times with client appointments and the results had been...disastrous to say the least. He was still paying for the marker decorations that Henry had drawn on a custom-made leather sofa in one client’s office. It was almost impossible to carry on a conversation of any kind of substance with the kids in the room. And for him to show up at an interview with them...

He might as well kiss the job goodbye. “You know, maybe we should reschedule. This is a crazy busy morning for me. If you could come back—”

“No!” Libby’s shriek cut through the air like a knife. “No!”

Sam bolted out of the chair and charged down the hall, his heart a tight ball in his throat. He never should have left the kids alone in the living room. This was how awful things happened, and if there was one thing that would break Sam, it would be one of his kids getting hurt. Or worse. Please be okay, please be okay.

It was probably only ten yards from the dining room to the living room, but to Sam, it felt like ten thousand. “Libby? You okay?”

“Henry took my bear when I was playing with it! He’s hurting him! Tell him to stop!”

It took Sam a second to process the fact that Libby and Henry were both fine. Just engaged in a tug-of-war over a stuffed bear. Libby’s voice was at decibels usually reserved for rock concerts, the sound nearly outpaced by Henry’s screams. No words, just the frustrated screams that Sam had heard too much of in the last year and a half.

“Henry, give Libby back her bear.”

But Henry didn’t listen. Instead, he tugged harder, at the same time that Libby tugged in the opposite direction. There was a horrible tearing sound, and then an explosion of fiberfill in the air. The kids tumbled onto the carpet, each holding half a bear, like some kind of biblical division of property.

The sobs multiplied in volume. Libby was screaming at Henry and Henry was screaming back, and Sam just wanted to quit. Quit being a terrible father. Quit being the chief everything when he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Just run away somewhere that was quiet and peaceful and clean.

His wife would have known what to do. Wendy had had a way with the kids, a calming presence that seemed to bring everyone back to earth in seconds. God, he missed her, and how she could handle all these things that he sucked at. Wendy would have known whose bear that was, but Sam—Sam couldn’t even remember buying the bear.

“No!” Libby screamed again. “Look what you did, Henry! You ruined him!”

While Sam stood there, at a loss, with two kids in the throes of tantrums, Bandit ran into the fray and grabbed a chunk of bear, then darted into the corner like he’d scored a new chew toy. And Libby started to sob.

Great, just great. Now how was he supposed to fix this?

He stayed immobile, frozen with indecision, afraid of doing the wrong thing, making it worse. Katie brushed past him. “Don’t cry, Libby. I can sew this,” she said, bending down in the space between the kids. “Fix him up as good as new.”

Libby swiped at her nose with the back of her arm. “You can?”

Katie nodded while she gathered up the fiberfill and began stuffing it into the bear’s belly. Henry quieted, too, and just watched, eyes wide. “I learned how to sew when I was your age. If you want, I can teach you how.”

“He doesn’t know how to sew,” Libby said, jabbing another thumb in her father’s direction.

Katie shot Sam a grin. “Some daddies don’t and some mommies don’t. But if I teach you, then you’ll know and next time you can fix—” she tapped the bear’s decapitated head, then turned to Henry “—what’s his name?”

Henry just stared at her. His fist clenched around the puff of stuffing.

“A bear’s gotta have a name.” Katie smiled at Henry, then inched closer. Sam started to go in there, to stop her, to tell her Henry was just going to run from her, but Katie kept talking, her voice calm and soft. Mesmerizing. “When I was a little girl, I had a bear like this one. I used to get scared a lot when it was dark, and my big brother, Colton, would find my bear and bring it to me. He would tuck me in and tell me stories until I stopped being scared and I fell asleep. I shared my bear with my brother sometimes, too, and Colton even gave Willard his own nicknames. My bear was my bestest friend when I was little, and I bet this guy is your friend, huh?”

Henry nodded.

“My bear’s name was Willard, but my brother nicknamed him Patch, because he was fixed so many times he had a patch over his belly. He wasn’t near as nice as your bear. So,” Katie said, giving the bodyless bear a little tap on the nose, “what’s his name? I gotta know his name so I can fix him, and tell him it’s all going to be okay.”

Henry shifted from foot to foot. Even though Libby knew the answer, she stood silently behind Katie, staring, waiting, just like Sam was. Katie just gave Henry a patient smile.

Then, very slowly, Henry held out his hand and uncurled his tight fist. A pouf of fiberfill sprang up like a daisy in his palm. “Henry help fix George?”

Henry’s little voice rang like a bell in the quiet of the living room. Libby turned to her father, mouth agape. Sam put a hand on his chest, sure he was hearing things.

Henry had spoken. A handful of words, but to Sam, it might as well have been the Gettysburg Address. Henry had spoken—and Sam’s heart was so full, he was sure it would burst just like the bear.

Katie nodded. “Of course Henry can help. And for the record, I think George is a terrific name for a bear.”

“T’ank you,” Henry said quietly, then he dropped the puff of stuffing into Katie’s lap.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t give a damn that Katie Williams had come in here looking like she was walking into court. He didn’t give a damn that she didn’t have much, if any, experience. If she could get through to Henry, he had little doubt that she could get through to Libby, too, and restore his daughter’s love for school. Katie had brought about a miracle that no one else had. She’d shifted the tides in a family too long on a rolling ocean, and for Sam, that was résumé enough. “You’re hired.”

Chapter Three (#ue5cb3b88-5daf-51de-9b60-78b5784ddd10)

Katie wasn’t so sure she’d heard Sam right. She was hired? Just like that?

And did she even really want the job?

She’d be with these two kids for at least an hour at a time if she became Libby’s tutor. Small children with winsome faces and those little-kid voices. The very thing she had been looking forward to, before—

Could she do it? Or would it be too painful?

Katie was still kneeling on the floor between Henry and Libby, holding the tattered remains of George the teddy bear. Libby, who seemed ten times older than her age, came over and stood in front of her. She propped her fists on her tiny hips and cocked her brown curls to one side. “Are you gonna stay?” Libby’s eyes, so like her father’s, clouded. “Just ’cuz, you know, ’cuz our mommy died and...and... I really wanna fix George.”

The naked honesty and pain in Libby’s face was almost too much to bear. Katie could see the yearning for a mother, the way that loss had impacted the little girl in a thousand ways, in the empty shadows in Libby’s eyes. Katie’s heart broke for Libby, and for little Henry, standing there silently, his thumb in his mouth, just watching her. Katie had no doubt Sam loved his kids, but he was clearly overwhelmed, and these two little ones needed someone. Being a tutor wouldn’t be all that tough, she figured, and she could help people who clearly needed help.

And given the way the two kids were staring at her, with a mix of hope and wary trust in their faces, she knew they wanted that someone to be her. It felt nice to be needed, even if only for this little while. Katie knew what it was like to crave a parent who engaged. Who cared. Katie wasn’t going to be their parent, but maybe she could help fill some of the gaps.

“Okay,” Katie said to Libby. “I’ll stay. We can fix George, if you have some thread and a needle?”

Sam put out his hands. “If we do, I have no idea where.”

“No problem. I’ll pick some up this week.” She bent down to Henry’s level again. “George is gonna need some special thread to be fixed. Can you wait for me to bring that over?”

Henry gave her a reluctant nod.

Libby ran into the other room, then hurried back. She thrust a stuffed dog into Henry’s arms. “Here. You can play with Puppy until then. But don’t break him.”

Henry grinned, then clutched the stuffed animal close to his chest.

“That was very nice, Libby,” Katie said.

“Thanks.” A slow smile spread across Libby’s face, then she turned and grabbed Henry’s hand. “Come on, Henry. Let’s watch SpongeBob.” The two of them plopped on the sofa, with Libby working the remote to switch to the underwater cartoon.

Katie rose and turned toward Sam. She’d accepted a job she wasn’t sure she wanted, without knowing a single thing about the hours, the pay, anything. That was as far outside the realm of how she normally operated as she could get. “So, maybe we should discuss the details.”

He grinned. She liked his smile. It was warm, friendly, like the way brownies made you feel when you first pulled them out of the oven. He was a handsome man, six foot two, trim and muscular, with close-cropped medium brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt that seemed molded to his chest—not that she was complaining—and a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. His feet were bare, and there was just something about the intimacy of that that made Katie feel like she was intruding in his space. From the moment she’d seen him, standing at the door, annoyed and flustered, she’d felt this warmth in her gut that rippled through her veins.

His phone buzzed and he glanced down. “My appointment was just moved to nine thirty, which means I have time to finally have a cup of coffee. Do you want one?”

“Coffee would be great.” And maybe with a mug in her hands she’d stop staring at the hot widower’s body. She followed him out to the kitchen, which looked pretty much like the tornado from The Wizard of Oz had just blown through. Dirty dishes teetered in the sink, a stack of newspapers lay scattered across the counter, crumbs littered the floor and the space around the toaster, and there was a pile of dirty laundry bulging out from the laundry room door like an impending avalanche.