Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Dad!” Grace scolds him, her hands on her hips as she pins him with a disappointed glare.
Unbothered by her reprimand, he answers unapologetically, “Had a meeting.” Not explaining further, he sniffs the air, seeming to appreciate having a home-cooked meal ready when he arrives, regardless of his lunch plans.
As the two of them quickly sit down, I pull the casserole dish from the oven and set it on a trivet in the middle of the island. They both lean forward, inhaling loudly and deeply. Grace looks unsure, but Cameron looks ready to devour the whole thing, so I plate the stuffed chicken over rice, setting one in front of each of them as fast as I can.
“You too,” Grace rushes to tell me.
Not sure if that’s allowed or expected, I glance at Cameron, but he looks as uncertain as I am, his brows raised and lips pressed into a flat line. Is that supposed to mean ‘get the hell out of here’ or ‘sit down and eat’? I have no idea, so I slowly move to get another plate from the cabinet, giving him every opportunity to tell me no, but he stays silent. I’m not turning down Grace’s invitation, so I fill my plate and sit down on the other end of the island, Grace between Cameron and me.
Waiting for them to take a bite first, I pray they like what I made. I feel like I still need a win with Cameron. He’s not sure about me—that much is obvious—but after just one day with Grace, I really hope he comes around because I like her a lot.
Luckily, after delicately cutting into the chicken and placing a small bite in his mouth, Cameron almost smiles as he chews before scooping another large bite into his mouth and making sounds of utter and complete contentment. “This is delicious.”
“Thank you,” I say with a sigh of relief, choosing to not be offended by the shock laced through his compliment. “I’m not a chef by any means, but I can whip up a few things.”
Cameron’s reaction seems to entice Grace to dig in too, though she’s decidedly less delicate than her father with it. “Hey, it is good!” Her surprise is palpable, her eyes widening and her lips lifting into a closed-mouth smile as she chews.
As we eat, Cameron asks Grace about her day and I stay quiet so as not to intrude on their father-daughter time more than I already am. And also to get a better read on my new employer.
“How was school today?” Cameron asks.
Grace throws her head back and groans. “Looong, but I got a 92 on my history test.”
“Great job!” Cameron praises. “Congratulations, honey. You’ve improved your math grade too?”
“Yep.”
Like he can feel the weight of my gaze, he meets my eyes over Grace’s head, and I smile at him. He’s an engaged, involved dad, that much is clear, and he’s risen several notches in my estimation in only the last few minutes. It’s like he can read my thoughts on him, though, because he arches his brow, staring back at me cockily.
After dinner, to my complete astonishment, Cameron offers to do the dishes while Grace gets in the shower. “You cooked. The least I can do is clean up.” I gape at him, open-mouthed, and he frowns. “You don’t have to look so shocked. I’m not a total asshole.”
“I didn’t say total,” I argue, not disputing the asshole part, but I do soften the blow with a tiny smile, and he chuckles a bit, which feels like a big win from the serious man. “Do you eat leftovers? I can package up the rest of the chicken for your lunch tomorrow so you don’t go hungry again?”
It’s his turn to look stunned. “That’s kind of you, but save it for your lunch tomorrow. Jeannie, my assistant, usually orders me something. Today just got away from me.”
We work side-by-side, getting everything put away, then he leans against the counter and crosses his arms. I can virtually feel the interrogation beginning and I square up my shoulders for whatever he’s about to hit me with.
“You running away, screaming yet?”
Puzzled, I reply, “Of course not. Who have you had working for you?”
I’m truly confused. Yes, he’s uptight, and yes, Grace is exuberant, but there have been no flaming red flags telling me to run yet. And I’m really good at spotting those, even when they’re subtle or hidden.
“The last nanny’s name was Beatrice. She came with great references, from a top agency. She was trying to make Grace feel better about failing her math test but ended up quitting on the spot after Grace point-blank asked if acting as her chauffeur, spending hours flipping through Instagram, and whining about her cheating boyfriend were her definition of greatness.” When my jaw drops, he adds, “That’s an actual quote, not an exaggeration.”