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  Which is the plan. I was living with my parents so I had time to practice for auditions. That shouldn’t be a problem now. Charlotte is in school, so I’ll still have practice time during the day. And I’m going to need it. Pianist positions are few and far between, and there’s always a lot of competition.

  The hard part is, as much as I love music—it’s my life—performing is difficult for me. I love music for its own sake, and I love to play. But I get so anxious when the pressure is on. I’m terrified before a performance, and I’m left exhausted when it’s over.

  But, as my parents are fond of reminding me, if I’m going to pursue music, I have to give it my all. Go as far as I can. Be the best I can be. They expect me to take advantage of my natural talent with a lot of hard work.

  It’s a lesson they emphasized with both their daughters. My parents are doctors—my father is a neurosurgeon and my mother works in cancer research—both at the top of their field. Melanie was on her way to becoming some kind of superstar surgeon. So naturally, they want me to be the best in my chosen profession.

  However, they were laying the pressure on thick, and I was getting frustrated. My mother was increasingly impatient with the lack of audition opportunities—as if somehow I could control when a major symphony had an opening.

  That was why I agreed to come to Seattle. I was angry that my parents didn’t consult me before making arrangements with Caleb. But once I thought about it, I realized it was perfect. A new city. A job waiting for me. A place to live. A chance to start fresh, without my mother breathing down my neck and pestering me about auditions.

  Of course, I hadn’t counted on developing an insta-crush on Caleb.

  I take a deep breath. I’m sure this feeling will pass. I’ll get used to looking at him—I peek at him from the corner of my eye and oh my god, he is so dreamy—and I won’t feel so jumpy anymore.

  “Linnea, do you want to sleep in my room with me?” Charlotte asks from the backseat.

  Caleb laughs and looks at her in the rear-view mirror. “Bug, we talked about that. Linnea needs her own bed.” He coughs. “I mean, her own room.”

  “Okay,” Charlotte says, sounding disappointed.

  I twist around in my seat. “Hey, maybe we can have a slumber party sometime. Like on a night when your dad is at work late. Would you like that?”

  She nods. “Can it be a pajama party?”

  “You bet,” I say.

  “What kind of pajamas do you have?” she asks. “Most of mine are pink.”

  “Hmm, I don’t usually wear pajamas, so I guess I’ll have to get some before our party.”

  “Then what do you sleep in?” she asks.

  “Just something comfortable. Like a tank top.”

  “And panties?” Charlotte asks. “What kind of panties do you have? Mine are My Little Pony and Strawberry Shortcake.”

  My face warms and I know I’m blushing. I try not to look at Caleb, but I peek anyway. He’s looking straight ahead, both hands on the steering wheel. “I’m afraid I don’t have any that are as fun as that.”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I don’t know if they make them in grown up sizes.”

  “Probably not.” I turn back around, hoping she’s done talking about my panties. Maybe I should change the subject. “So, Charlotte, have you ever played piano?”

  “No.”

  “If you want, I can teach you,” I say.

  “I don’t know if I’m big enough,” she says.

  “Sure you are,” I say, glancing back at her again. “I started playing when I was younger than you.”

  Her forehead tightens, her little eyebrows drawing together. “No. I don’t want to.”

  “Oh, okay. That’s fine.”

  “Why not, Bug?” Caleb asks, his voice gentle.

  “Because of concerts,” she says.

  “Concerts?” Caleb asks.

  “Sometimes we do music at school, and the teacher showed us a video,” she says. “It was a concert and all the music players had to play music in a big room with a lot of people.”

  “Oh.” Caleb turns to me and lowers his voice. “She thinks if she plays piano she’ll have to perform in front of an audience. She’s not acting like it right now, but most of the time, she’s incredibly shy.”

  My heart melts in my chest. I was painfully shy as a child; I know exactly how she feels. “Aw, Bug. If you want, you can learn to play piano just for yourself. You don’t ever have to play in front of people. Maybe just me or your daddy. But no concerts, unless you want to.”

  “Oh,” she says, her voice brightening. “Okay.”

  Caleb smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I smile back, but it feels like my heart just grew wings and it’s trying to fly right out of my chest.

  Half an hour later, we pull up to a cute little two-story on a quiet street. Caleb helps me get my bags and the three of us go inside.

  “Sorry for the mess,” Caleb says. “We moved in a month ago, but I haven’t really finished unpacking. We were in an apartment before, so I don’t even have furniture for all the rooms.”

  The floorplan is open, with a cozy living area, kitchen, and dining room. There’s a formal living room with a fireplace near the front of the house, and stairs leading up. A few boxes are stacked in corners, and some of Charlotte’s toys are strewn about. But it doesn’t seem that messy to me.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I can help organize if you need me to.”

  “I don’t want you to feel like you have to clean up after me,” he says. “I just work a lot, so it takes me a while to get everything done at home.”

  “Well, yeah, you’re doing everything by yourself,” I say.

  “Yeah,” he says, and I’m struck by the tiredness in his eyes. “Let’s get your stuff to your room so you can get settled.”

  We haul my things upstairs and he shows me around. Charlotte’s room, bathroom, my bedroom. He points to a half-open door and mumbles something about that being his bedroom. I’m dying to peek, but of course I don’t.

  “I hope you’ll be comfortable in here,” Caleb says, gesturing to my new bedroom.

  It’s plain, but perfectly functional. There’s a queen-sized bed flanked by two small nightstands, a dresser, and a closet.

  He rolls my suitcase in and puts it near the closet. “You’ll have to share a bathroom with Charlotte. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course,” I say. “This is great.”

  “You sure?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say, looking around the room. “This is perfect.”

  Charlotte tugs on my hand. “Can we have our pajama party tonight, Linnea?”

  “Not tonight, sweetie,” Caleb says. “It’s past your bedtime.”

  “Please, Daddy,” she says. “We won’t stay up very late. Just a tiny bit.”

  He picks her up and kisses her cheek. “Sorry, Bug. It’s already late.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” she says. “Can Linnea put me to bed, then?”

  Caleb laughs. “Not tonight, Bug. Remember, she lives with us now, and she’s going to be taking care of you when I have to work.” He glances at me. “And hopefully she’ll stay for quite a while. She’ll have plenty of chances to put you to bed.”

  I smile at them. “Exactly. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

  She nods and leans her head against Caleb’s shoulder. He rubs her back and with a little smile at me, he takes her to get ready for bed. I shut the door behind him and lean against it, letting out a long sigh.

  Well, that was not what I was expecting when I got on a plane today.

  I need to get my little insta-crush under control. Caleb is almost ten years older than me. I’m here to be his daughter’s nanny. And let’s not forget, he was married to my dead sister. The thoughts I’m having about him right now are so inappropriate.

  But I’m sure it won’t last. I just need to keep my silly hormones from taking over.

  3

  Caleb


  I come downstairs, pulling on a t-shirt, and blink the sleep from my eyes. Charlotte usually wakes me in the morning, but it’s after nine, and she never came in. It felt good to sleep late, but I wonder how long she’s been up. Soft voices carry from the kitchen. I walk around the corner and stop in my tracks.

  Linnea is standing at the stove, her back to me. She’s wearing a tank top with thin straps and a pair of loose gray sweats. Nothing special, but for fuck’s sake, a paper bag would look hot on that body. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a perfect ass in my life.

  Her hair is up and there is just so much skin showing right now. Her shoulders, arms, upper back. I’m still trying to wake up, but my dick is already way ahead of me.

  “Hi, Daddy!” Charlotte says.

  Oh my god, I didn’t even notice my daughter was in the kitchen. This is so bad.

  “Morning, Bug.” I scoop her up and she gives me a big squeeze around my neck. I hold her for another moment and breathe in the strawberry scent of her hair. I love this little girl so much. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Good,” she says. “Linnea is making pancakes.”

  I set her back down. “Yum.”

  Linnea looks at me over her shoulder. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, definitely,” I say. “This is your home too, now. Help yourself to anything.”

  She smiles. “Thanks. Do you want some?”

  God, that smile. “Sure, sounds great.”

  Charlotte and I carry plates and silverware to the table while Linnea finishes cooking. She brings over a plate with a tall stack of pancakes and we all sit down. I get up again to grab the butter and when I get back, Linnea is already helping Charlotte cut a pancake into bite sized pieces.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Sure,” she says with a smile.

  She’s leaning forward to help Charlotte and my eyes are drawn to those amazing boobs. I used to think a word like luscious when applied to tits was stupid, but that was before I was faced with the amazingness that is Linnea. She sits up straighter and grabs the syrup. I tear my eyes away, hoping she didn’t catch me staring at her chest. Great, she hasn’t even been here twenty-four hours, and I’m almost sexually harassing her.

  I distract myself with breakfast. Pancakes aren’t my first choice for a breakfast food—I’m more of an eggs and hash browns kind of guy—but these are really good. I can’t remember the last time someone else cooked me breakfast. There’s something comforting about sitting at the table, quietly eating pancakes that I didn’t have to make myself.

  “I know I just got here, so there’s no hurry, but I wanted to talk to you about your work schedule,” Linnea says. “I’d like to teach piano lessons a couple times a week. But I’m here for Charlotte first, so if that doesn’t work, it’s okay.”

  “I’m sure we can figure it out,” I say. “Worst case scenario, my sister Kendra can watch Charlotte if I absolutely have to go in and you aren’t here. Where will you teach? Here?”

  “No, at a music store,” she says. “That’s what I was doing back home. Henley’s Music isn’t far from here, and they offer lessons. I’ll go talk to the manager this week and see if I can get one of the lesson rooms. Just let me know what days are best for you, and I can work around that.”

  “Sure,” I say. “How will you get around? Do you drive?”

  “I have a license, but I’ll use the bus,” she says. “I’m used to it and I already looked up the routes. There’s a stop just two blocks away, so I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” I guess she’s got things pretty well figured out already. “You know, I obviously don’t have a piano. Are you going to need somewhere to practice?”

  “Oh, no, I have an electric piano that’s being delivered in a few days,” she says.

  “Does that work as well as a regular piano for you?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” she says. “I have a very nice one. The keys are weighted, so it feels right. It just takes up less space.”

  “Can I play your piano?” Charlotte asks.

  “Of course,” Linnea says. “I’ll teach you to play all kinds of fun things.”

  “Are your parents shipping the piano?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” She puts her fork down. “Speaking of my parents, I’m… well, I’m sorry if this was kind of sprung on you.”

  I feel a little pang of guilt for how much I was complaining to Alex about her. “It’s fine. Honestly, I’ve had such a hard time finding someone to watch Charlotte. My schedule can be erratic, so they have to be willing to be here late into the night sometimes, and a lot of nannies only want to work days. We had one girl who we both liked, but she got engaged and moved out of state. The rest have been… well, let’s just say they didn’t work out.”

  “You said Brittany was a twit,” Charlotte says.

  I wince. “I was upset when I said that, Bug. That wasn’t a nice thing for me to say.”

  Linnea stifles a soft laugh.

  “My point is, you living here makes it a lot easier,” I say. “And you already knowing Charlotte is a big deal too.”

  “I like Linnea,” Charlotte says.

  “I like you too, Bug,” Linnea says.

  Charlotte beams at her and my heart swells with affection for both of them.

  “So, you teach piano,” I say. “Are you looking to do anything else in terms of a career in music?”

  “Well, the plan is to land a spot with a symphony,” she says.

  “Wow, that sounds like it would be amazing,” I say. “Would you be looking to do that here?”

  “If it worked out,” she says. “But I don’t think there’s much chance of getting on with the Seattle Symphony. Their pianists are amazing, and I don’t think they’ll have any openings for a while.”

  “Oh, so where would you go?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “Depends. Most major cities have a symphony, but I’m more likely to get on with a smaller one until I have more experience. When an opening comes up, I’ll have to go audition.”

  I’m hit with a surge of disappointment at the thought of her leaving. Which is crazy. She doesn’t want to be a nanny for the rest of her life. She’s a musician. Of course she’s going to pursue her career.

  We finish up breakfast and I turn on the TV for Charlotte. Linnea and I both head upstairs to shower and get dressed. There’s an awkward moment when I come out of my bedroom to find her wrapped in nothing but a towel, going between the bathroom and her bedroom. Her long, wet hair hangs down her back and her skin has a hint of pink from the hot water. She gives me a shy smile and slips into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

  Downstairs, I play a few games of go-fish with Charlotte—she wins two to my one—until Linnea comes downstairs.

  “Can Linnea take me to the park?” Charlotte asks.

  “Well, honey, Linnea isn’t really watching you today, because I’m off work.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” Linnea says. “Is the park close?”

  “Yeah, it’s up the street,” I say. “But really, you don’t have to.”

  “I can take her for a little while,” she says. “I bet you don’t get breaks very often on your days off.”

  She’s right, I don’t. I never ask anyone to watch Charlotte on my days off. Mostly, I want to spend time with her. But I’ve also had to call in too many favors to make sure I have someone to take care of her while I’m working. It’s been months since I had even a few hours to myself when she wasn’t asleep.

  “Actually, that’s true,” I say. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’d be happy to,” she says. “You ready, Bug?”

  “I need shoes, but I can tie them myself,” she says.

  “Wow, you are a big girl,” Linnea says with a smile. She meets my eyes and winks.

  For fuck’s sake, she’s killing me.

  After I give Linnea directions, she and Charlotte head to the park. I watch them for a moment as they walk up the sidewalk, hand-in-hand. It’s amazing h
ow animated Charlotte has been since Linnea arrived. It usually takes her a long time to warm up to people.

  It’s such a relief. I’ve been getting increasingly worried about Charlotte’s shyness. Not because there’s anything inherently wrong with being shy or quiet, but she’s having such a tough time at school. She started first grade a few weeks ago, and it hasn’t gone smoothly. I want my little girl to be happy and thriving, and it’s hard to see her struggle.

  I wander into the kitchen—Linnea already cleaned up breakfast—and glance around. I should probably unpack some more boxes, but instead, I sit down on the couch. I’m running on empty a lot, and having even an hour where no one needs me to do anything is nice.

  A little while later, there’s a knock at the door. I wonder if I accidentally locked them out—I need to get an extra key for Linnea. I answer, but it’s my brother-in-law, Weston. He glances behind him, almost like he’s worried someone is watching, and comes inside.

  “Hey, man.”

  He nods to me and checks his phone, pocketing it again with a look that I can only describe as relief. We go into the living room and he takes a seat on the couch.

  “You seem really tense,” I say. “Is everything okay?”

  He blows out a breath and leans back. “Yeah. I just need to hide out from Kendra for a little bit.”

  I laugh. “Why?”

  “We’re trying to get pregnant,” he says. “And she’s treating me like her own personal sperm factory.”

  I’m so surprised, I cough a few times before I can respond. “She’s… wow. Uh, okay. I didn’t realize you guys wanted kids right away.”

  “Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “Kendra was basically made to be a mom; I knew she’d want a family. Plus, you have Charlotte and she’s pretty great.”

  That makes me smile. Weston’s never struck me as a kid person, but he and Charlotte took to each other immediately. Now they have a really cute little bond.