Eight Days a Week (3 page)

I figured maybe he’d be behind the culinary degree, but instead he said it was a foolish venture. He wanted me to be more like him, with a medical degree. Married to my job as a pediatrician or a heart surgeon. Or even worse, an ob-gyn. Staring at vaginas all day isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

By the time he’d voiced his disapproval of everything I’d wanted to pursue, I’d given up. My rebellion was strong.

But my grandfather, the original Andrew, had made sure I could do what I wanted after graduation. Within limits, of course.

When I’d graduated from high school, I’d received a portion of the inheritance that had been set aside for me. That had paid for college. Both colleges. It had paid for the Europe trip. And the year in Rome. But when the money had run out, I’d had to face reality and come back home. To receive the remainder of my inheritance, I had to have a job.

It was a stipulation in Big Andy’s will. Be in school or have a job. It was the end of my life, as far as I was concerned.

I couldn’t find a position teaching piano anywhere, and piano bars weren’t appealing. The hours were awful, and I’d seen firsthand the way drunk people tried to climb on top of a piano, scuffing it up to hell and back in an attempt to be sexy. Which they most definitely were not. Restaurants weren’t hiring—they were laying off staff because people had stopped eating out.
 

Thus how I’d ended up at Gwen Stone’s house—desperate—and agreed take her up on the manny job offer.

My father would be livid if he knew I was lugging kids to and from ballet recitals. I couldn’t wait to get back to my sister’s apartment and let her know about the good fortune I’d found.

On Craigslist.

It didn’t do much to reduce my ego that I’d gone to the interview at ten o’clock in the morning and received the offer before five. Either my bloated resumé and fake reference sealed the deal, or this woman was desperate. Either way, my inheritance would be in hand faster than I’d thought.

At about six o’clock, Cece skidded, high-strung and jittery, into the parking lot where I was waiting to take her home. Once we reached the highway, I said, “I don’t see how buying media could be all that stressful. Don’t you just look at magazines all day for ad space?” I bit my lip to stop from smiling as her breath went shallow and she mumbled quiet affirmations that I wasn’t supposed to hear. I was evil for tormenting her so much. “God, you’re easily riled. You need to get laid.”

Once Cece found her “center,” she turned to scowl at me. “At least my job is interesting. Is
your
job interesting?” She tapped her forehead and exclaimed, “Oh, wait! That’s right. You don’t
have
a job. Slack ass.”

Bait and hook.

“Funny you should say that. Because I got a job this morning. And I’m moving out of your sweet little apartment on Friday,” I said, keeping my voice as casual as possible.

She sat silent and still until we reached the apartment and I pulled into the garage. “I don’t believe you.”

I shifted into park and gave her a stare to confirm I wasn’t lying.
 

“Okay. Your face isn’t all scrunched up, so I guess you’re telling the truth?”
 

I raised my eyebrows.
 

“Well, what is it? Where is it? How are you moving out so fast? Does it pay well?”

“Slow down and take a breath before I have to get you a paper bag.” Dangling the keys from my fingers, I motioned for her to follow me inside. Stretching this out would be hell for her.

I went about prepping dinner to delay my answer. There was a lot of clamor as I pulled out pots and put pans on the stove before grabbing the food from the fridge and arranging everything on the counter just so.
 

It was only a matter of time.

“Spill it!”
 

I dropped an onion on the floor. Cece gaped at it and then at me. “Five second rule.”

I retrieved the onion and took the knife to it. Then I turned and regarded her with sad, innocent eyes and cocked my head to the side. “What if I’ve had to take a job doing something seedy? Would you still want to know? Or would you rather not be aware your little brother is a gigolo at the local stag ranch?”

My sister groaned and crawled on top of the granite countertop before crossing her legs and waiting. Her frantic hands snapped pea pods in half in the growing silence.
 

Finally I chuckled and added the onions to the pan I was heating up on the stove. “I was on Craigslist today,
as you suggested
, and ran across an ad that I thought looked interesting. Well, Xander thought it looked interesting. I went for an interview and was offered the position on the spot. It must be my charming demeanor. They’ve provided me with a place to stay, too, and that’s why I’m moving out.”
 

She heaved an exasperated sigh and leaned forward in expectation.
 

I gave her a quick smile. “I’m going to be a live-in nanny for a couple of kids.”
 

Her eyes grew wide.
 

“And, funny enough, it’s for your new boss, Gwen Stone.”

There was a squeak and then a thump, and I shook my head while Cece pushed herself off the floor. I leaned down to help her stand, while she stared straight ahead with a blank look on her face.
 

Finally her eyes focused again, and she slapped my arm. “What the hell, Drew?”

“What?” I went back to the stove. “I had no idea who she was until I got there. It’s a job, and it gets me off your couch. I thought you’d be happy.” That was a lie.
 

Her hands were flicking around in circles. “Please, Andrew, I am begging you not to take this job. You’re going to screw those kids up.”

“They’re
her
kids, and I’m sure if she thought it was a bad idea she’d have said so and asked me to leave. Instead, she told me
your
glowing words of praise are what sold her on hiring me. Thanks for that.”

“Her kids . . .” She focused her glassy eyes on the countertop and zoned out before snapping back to reality.

The onions were almost done, and I shook the pan to even them out. “I didn’t know you two were such good friends.”

Cece’s laugh was low and bitter. “Well, that’s what happens when you disappear to Europe for two years and never call home.”

I wasn’t sure why she sounded so hurt. As far as I was concerned, Cece didn’t love me any more than I loved her. She tolerated me.

“This will end in disaster.” She walked out of the kitchen for the bathroom, and I craned my neck to listen for the sound that would come next.
 

There was an echo of copper coins plinking on tile and bouncing across the floor. “An
drew
! Did you fill my medicine cabinet with
pennies
?” she screeched.

I couldn’t hold in my laughter any longer, and I braced my hands on the counter for support. “Just consider it a going away present. You’ll miss that little-brother shit when I’m gone.”

Chapter 3

Drive My Car

Xander did a hell of a job with his reference. It was so great it earned me the go-ahead to move in that weekend.

But was it called “moving in” if I had jack shit to bring with me?

I realized very fast that the reason I didn’t take up much room at Cece’s place was because I had only myself and some clothes. It was a good thing the suite at Gwen’s house was furnished, or I’d have been eating off paper plates, sitting on crates, and sleeping on the floor.

Since there was no reason for me to “get settled,” I moved in on Sunday while the kids were with Gwen’s mother for the weekend. Gwen let me in the house and pointed me in the direction of my apartment. Then she disappeared and, by late that afternoon, I got her to stand still long enough to acknowledge my presence and give me more information about my duties.

She went through the basics of getting the kids ready for school. Bree would take the bus, but Brady needed to be driven, and I almost had a heart attack and gave up my Man Card when she led me into the garage and pointed to a four-door, shiny-blue, Hyundai-hatchback-cockblocking-piece-of-Daddy-mobile.

“Come again?” I blinked, hoping to will away the vision of the offensive car. Walking everywhere or riding a bike seemed a more attractive alternative.

She chuckled, her eyes still bouncing around to everything but me. “It’s the safest car to drive the kids in.”

It was official. I wasn’t getting laid again this century.

I took the keys and stared at the car, wondering if there was any way to make it
less
appealing.

There wasn’t.

I wanted to argue that I could get a manly Hummer—a very safe substitute—when I heard a car pull up into the driveway. Then I could only make out a hushed voice followed by three sets of footsteps.

Gwen gave a tight smile. “My mother’s here with the kids. Are you ready to meet them?”

Right. I’d forgotten I was there to take care of some children. It wasn’t entirely my fault. I’d been staring at Gwen’s tits for the last half hour. And when she slipped by me, her nipples brushed against my arm.

Girls think we don’t notice stuff like that. But we do.
 

We do.

It would not be a good idea to meet the kids with a semi. Focusing on the Hyundai and all of its non-panty-dropping glory, I got my situation under control.
 

Gwen opened the front door wide to introduce me to a nice-looking, conservatively dressed woman who didn’t look as old as my mom. Her light-auburn hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her deep-brown eyes were fraught with worry and stress.

Gwen smiled and bent down to pull the kids in for a hug as I stood off to the side and watched.
 

“Hi.” Her tone was soft. “I missed you.”

They both nodded and stepped back at the same time to look up at me. I offered what I hoped was a kid-friendly smile, but I was sure I looked like some creepy-ass old guy. The little boy stared up at me with wide eyes, like he was half-terrified and half-intrigued. The little girl scrunched up her face and looked me over once before taking her brother’s hand.

Gwen stood up and waved toward me. “Mom, Bree, Brady . . . this is Andrew.” She bent to speak to the kids again. “He’s your nanny. No, not a nanny. We’ll come up with something else to call him. He’s going to help you get to school and to your lessons and games.” She hesitated, and her eyes landed on her mom, who was beet red. “Oh, sorry, Andrew. This is my mother, Debra.”

I extended my hand, and the woman took it, nodding as her lips disappeared into a tight line on her face. Then I took a step back and motioned to the kids to follow me. It seemed like the obvious thing to do.
 

“I was thinking about making dinner. Do you two want to come, uh, watch?”

Yeah, that was smooth. Come play with knives in the kitchen, kids! I was an idiot.

They regarded Gwen for permission, and she nodded before they trailed behind me at a snail’s pace. I stopped at the door to the kitchen and waved. “It was nice to meet you, Debra.”
 

She looked like she had turned to stone.

“So what are you hungry for?” I asked while opening the refrigerator door. I didn’t feel too awkward around them yet. Maybe I was a natural at this childcare shit. Of course, it
had
been less than two minutes.

Brady hid off to the side of the granite island before I closed the fridge door and leaned against it, looking them over. They were fair, like Gwen, but they both had heads of honey-blond hair and piercing light-blue eyes—a stark contrast to Gwen’s dark-blue eyes and red hair.
 

I furrowed my brow then shrugged. Genetics weren’t my strong suit. What did I know?

Bree stepped forward and put her finger to her chin in thought. “Brady likes mac and cheese. Can you make that?”

I nodded with a shrug. “Easy enough.” I searched the refrigerator for what I’d need. There didn’t seem to be any fresh pasta, and I wondered if I’d have enough time to make some. “Do you want to help?”
 

They shook their heads.
 

“Do you want to watch?”
 

They nodded.

I shook off the feeling that they were the real-life incarnation of the twins from
The Shining
and then went to work cutting cubes out of a cheese block. In the quiet of the slicing, I heard Debra’s harsh whisper, and I paused to listen.

“A
man
, Gwen? Do you know
him? Did you run a report?
How did you find him?” Her voice was clipped and biting. “Your father would be so disappointed.”

“Would he?” Gwen asked, sounding like she might laugh. “Because
I think he’d think his daughter was doing a pretty good job, given the circumstances.”

I took a calming breath and put down the cheese. “Maybe we should order a pizza?”

The door slammed shut, and Gwen came around the corner, staring at her hands. “Sorry about that. She’s not very subtle.” She lifted her face to make eye contact with me and then gave a sad smile. “According to my mother, I make bad decisions a lot. As she says, ‘Book smart does not equal street smart.’ ”