The Billionaire's Nanny: A BWWM Romantic Comedy Read Online Free Page A

dollars, gosh thanks!–the bar is a lot quieter. I suspect we lost a lot of business to people opening the door, seeing that group, and moving right along. So even more money I don’t get.
    There are a couple of regulars at the bar. Dave isn’t our usual clientele, he’s more of a beer than a cocktail guy, but he lives upstairs, so he’s pretty loyal. Eric and Dan are both winemakers at boutique wineries, so they have these super-sophisticated palates but are tired of wine. So they like to offer cocktail suggestions and help me improve my technique. I’m usually pretty good natured about it–heck, they have good ideas sometimes–but I’m not feeling it tonight.
    “Did you hear about those pickle juice cocktails that are hot now?” Dan asks.
    “What is it with damned pickles all of the sudden”" I ask. “I get enough pickle talk at the cafe.”
    “Sounds like it could make a good martini,” says Eric, “You should bring in some juice next time.”
    “I have enough to remember, Eric, but thanks.” I turn to Dave. “Another whiskey?” He nods and they start chattering about which local gin to pair with what sort of pickle juice.
    Bartender is a tough job when you’re in a bad mood. Well, not breaking-rocks-on-the-chain-gang tough. Annoying. You can work up a head of righteous indignation.
    I’ve managed to get a good seethe going when I see Corbin walk up to the bar.
    “Hi,” he says, smiling.
    “Hi,” I say, “did you ditch the baby with a cocktail waitress?” That sounded meaner than was strictly warranted. But I’m feeling grouchy.
    “No, I left her with…a friend. Do you have a second?”
    There it is again, that sadness behind what looks like a normal, friendly smile. It melts my icy heart a bit. I look around the bar, everyone is set. “Sure,” I say, wiping my hands on a towel, “What can I do for you?”
    “Well, I have a somewhat unusual proposal.” Briefly, I wonder if it’s going to be one of those paid mistress gigs. My heart beats a little faster. “I find myself in need of a nanny and I was really impressed with how well you handled Maeve this afternoon. I’d like to offer you a full-time position.”
    His speech is so formal and stilted, I know he must be nervous, but what a weird thing to ask. Mistress would have seemed less strange.
    “Mr. Pierce, you know nothing about me. You just know I can hold a baby right-way-up.”
    He smiles a little. “Corbin, please, and give me a little credit. I did a background check.”
    I feel a flash of anger. “What? What do you mean, what gives you the right?”
    The calming motion he makes with his hands isn’t particularly effective. “You told me your name, I Googled you. That’s all. I didn’t involve the Federal Government.” He pauses, cocks his head and smiles again. Really, he’s too charming to stay mad at for long. “Should I have?”
    “Seems like you’d want to hire someone with some actual experience to take care of your baby. Not a waitress/bartender you’ve only just met. Even one with really delicious braids.”
    He chuckles. “I know that you are actually a third grade teacher. I know that you’re well educated. I know that you are involved with the migrant population, which suggests compassion. No convictions.”
    I nod. All true.
    “And I know that you took a pay cut to help your school stay afloat and that you aren’t independently wealthy and could probably, therefore, use the money. Unless you’re a really good waitress.”
    “I’m a terrible waitress. Your tip was more than the rest of my week’s earnings, combined. But, as you know, I have a real job. A job I love.”
    “Right. I need you to care for Maeve while I find a full-time replacement. She had a nanny back in Boston, but I never cared for her. She’s one of those strict, by the books types and I…I just don’t want that for Maeve. She’s a baby, for godsakes, how many rules can she need?”
    He looks wounded as he says this.