I stared at her. “You realize the museum is a public place, too, right?”
She frowned and kicked at the floor with her sequined shoe. “The whole museum?” She peeked at me from under her bangs.
“Yes. The whole museum.”
She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. I followed, laughing to myself and sniffing my wrist.
We arrived at Max’s house at 9:33. Knots twisted in my stomach. I hated being late, even if it was only Slade and Max.
Max opened the front door, his serious eyes traveling from Gillian to me then back. He wore Spiderman underwear, nothing else.
“Yippee!” Gillian screamed, tearing off her clothes as she pushed past him into the house. “Naked day!”
“Gillian!” I yelled after her, but it was too late. She’d already shed her shirt and shorts and ran up the staircase in her swimsuit, Max close behind her.
Slade emerged from the kitchen, looking sleepy and tousled. The unexpected adrenaline rush I felt when I saw him surprised me. He glanced toward the kids charging up the staircase, shrugged, then grinned at me. Immune, I told myself. You are immune to his wily charms.
“Howdy, partner. Want some coffee?” He lifted the mug in his hand and tilted his head in a question. He desperately needed to cut his messy surfer boy hair. He was in his usual slacker mode, wearing a Chase Rice concert T-shirt and faded khaki shorts. Of course he was barefoot.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Coffee would be great.” I’d need all the energy I could muster to keep up with Gillian today. Not to mention, the whole pretending-to-be-partners-but-really-secretly mentoring-Slade charade.
I followed him into the kitchen, where a small TV blasted cartoons. Slade reached over and switched it off. He poured me a cup of coffee, then glanced over his shoulder. “Sugar? Milk?”
“Um, sugar,” I said, surprised he’d thought to ask. “I can do it. Where’s the bowl?” I stepped toward the counter, and he slid a sugar bowl toward me. Standing so close to him made me jittery, which was completely irrational. I dumped a spoonful into my mug and stirred, not looking at him.
What did I talk about with someone I had nothing in common with? Someone I was supposed to be secretly supervising? Someone who smelled like pine trees and sunshine?
Crap. What was wrong with me?
I shrugged my backpack off my shoulder and pulled out my binder, tossing it with a satisfying thunk onto the table. Slade muttered something under his breath.
“What?” I turned to look at him, and he widened his infamous eyes, looking innocent.
“Nothing.” He watched me over the rim of his mug.
I rubbed my hands together. “So, we have a lot to discuss. I’ve already mapped out this week for us. I think I’ve come up with a good balance of educational activities and character-building exercises.”
Slade sank into the chair across from me, pulled a foil packet of chocolate Pop Tarts from a box, and started eating one.
“Aren’t you going to toast that?” I asked him, frowning.
He shook his head, still chewing.
I sighed. “Anyway, I’ve also made copies of a few articles for you to read.”
He stared at me like I was an exhibit in a traveling freak show. “Articles? What about?”
“Child development. Child safety. Important stuff.”
I thought I saw him shudder, but I must have been imagining things.
“In fact…” I reached into my backpack and pulled out a red binder. “I made you your own binder.”
This time he definitely shuddered. He even stopped chewing. He swallowed, and then started choking. He grabbed his mug and took a swig of coffee, but that just made it worse.
I rushed to his chair and pounded him on the back. “Probably just went down the wrong pipe.”
He coughed harder, leaning over the table, crumbs flying from his mouth.
“I know the Heimlich.” I kneeled in front of him, worried by all his hacking noises. “Do you want me to do the Heimlich on you? Give me one finger for yes, two fingers for no.”
Still coughing violently, he waved four fingers at me, two on each hand.
Geez. Whatever. Not like I’d hurt him. I totally knew what I was doing from Babysitter First Aid class. I stomped away and opened cupboards until I found a glass, then filled it with water and handed it to him.
He took it from me, his hands shaking from coughing…and…laughter? Was he actually laughing? He took a few gulps of water and finally got himself under control.
“What’s so funny, Slade? I thought you were choking to death, but obviously not.” Too bad. That would’ve solved all my problems.
He set his glass on the table and pointed to his binder. “That is what’s so funny.” He glanced up at me, smirking. “You know I’ll never look inside that thing, right?”
I crossed my arms and glared at him. Even though I knew he was going to totally bomb as a nanny, I’d decided last night that I owed his mom the courtesy of doing my best to improve Slade this week. After all, she was paying me to let him tag along and learn from me.
His binder had multiple sections: child development, appropriate activities based on age, and another section with each day’s schedule, plus a section for notes on what he needed to improve. I’d put plenty of blank pages in that section.
“That binder may be your only chance of succeeding in this job, Slade.”
Based on the sudden anger flashing in his tiger-like eyes, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. I cleared my throat and tugged at the spikes of hair framing my face, painfully aware that my entire body was blushing.
“What I mean is, um, I’ve found that using a binder really helps me stay organized. So I thought maybe it could help you, too.”
There was so much I could teach him. But maybe I should dole it out slowly.
“Pop Tarts!” Gillian shrieked, appearing from nowhere and bouncing up and down in front of us. “Yes! And you have the chocolate ones. Can I have three?”
Slade laughed and started tearing open a foil package, but I put out a hand to stop him. I jerked my hand back when I realized I’d actually touched his arm. His gaze met mine and he raised a brow. I tore my gaze away from those stupid eyes of his and focused on Gillian.
“No, absolutely not.” I put on my best do-not-even-think-of-arguing-with-me face. “Your mom said no sugar.” She’d actually said one sugary treat a day was okay, but I figured none was even better.
Gillian’s face fell, and she turned her big blue eyes on Slade. “Puh-lease? I love them…and Mommy never buys them for me.” She faked a sniffle.
I rolled my eyes at Slade, who was trying to hold back laughter.
He closed the box. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said. “Gotta do what Trina says.”
Gillian pivoted toward me, glaring. “You’re not the boss of me.”
Barely two hours into our first day together and already she was staging a mutiny. I took a deep breath, refusing to look at Slade.
“Gillian, while you’re with me, I am the boss of you. It’s my job to take care of you while your parents are at work. And your mom said no sugar.” It would be easier to just let her have a Pop Tart, but I was terrified of how much crazier she’d be, hopped up on sugar.
She crossed her arms over her chest, still glaring at me.
“Go put your clothes on,” I said, “so we can get to the museum.”
“Hey, Gillian,” Slade interjected, “that’s a great idea. See, I kind of need your help.”
We both turned to Slade. His expression was all innocent and wide-eyed, and I watched in amazement as he turned the topaz eye power on full blast for a five-year-old. “See, Max doesn’t like me being the boss of him, either. So you could really help me out by getting dressed, and convincing him to get dressed, too.” He turned on the full wattage smile, complete with dimple. “Do you think you could do that for me, sweetheart?”
I watched her melt right before my eyes. Her glare morphed into a dazed smile. She nodded enthusiastically, then turned and ran out of the room.
Unbelievable. I didn’t know whether to thank him or throw something at him.