Always Wrong - Xyla Turner Page 0,59

Before I saw him, I stood to shake his hand, and then my eyes met his. Damn, he was tall. The guy looked like an older Zac Efron with those light gray eyes. He had shoulder-length hair that had a sprinkling of salt mixed in with his pepper. He was pretty tanned as if he were Italian-bred and had a runner’s body.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Vega.” I gave him a quick shake and took my seat again.

“Nice to meet you too, Faith,” he said but with a terse tone.

Well, he surely wasn’t friendly.

His wife looked at him but didn’t say anything. Then she began to tell me about her background, the fact that she designed adaptive clothing for special-needs children and her business was finally taking off. She also explained that her husband was a curator, which meant he was constantly traveling all over and it was quite a lucrative job, but both of them were extremely busy.

“Faith, how about you tell us about yourself and why you’re interested in being a nanny for our son, Casey?” Mrs. Vega asked.

I shared my experience in college, my art career or lack thereof, and then my interest in being a nanny for their son. I equated it to my experience of my mother, her stories and connections with the families, and more importantly, why working with Casey for an extended time was helpful for his development.

Mrs. Vega seemed very interested, but her counterpart was barely listening.

Mmkay.

She asked some more questions, then asked her husband if he had any questions. He nodded and said, “Mine is simple, and it’s not a question but a summary of what I just heard. You want this job because you failed as an artist. Do I have that right?”

Urrr.

I scoffed before reeling my temper back in. His wife, on the other hand, snapped her neck around and hissed, “Logan Vega, how could you be so rude? A word! Please.”

She stood up and marched to the back as I simply looked on in horror. I contemplated getting up and leaving because while Mama was against the whole art thing, she never said I failed or even spoke to me so crassly. For a moment, I thought it was good that he was away because the man was an asshole.

Adjusting my posture in my chair, I tried to put on all the professionalism I could muster and sat up straight. They came back to the table two minutes later, and since I didn’t make eye contact right away, I took in both of their outfits. Both had on khaki pants. She had on moccasins and a light-pink polo shirt that hung loose enough around her small but curvy frame. He had on a fitted T-shirt with his khakis cuffed and sneakers with no socks. He looked like a rich, entitled ass. Those eyes were piercing, and he had jutting chin and sharp jaw with a perfect set of teeth. He was the serious type, and she must be the free spirit or maybe just the Mama.

“I apologize for Logan’s comment,” Mrs. Vega said for him. “We were looking for someone with experience, and you seem to lack it but have some of the other qualities that we are looking for.”

I nodded but said nothing for fear that I would cross the line since he was a coward for not owning his shit. His wife had to speak for him. That was trifling. Mama always said not to judge a book by its cover. On the exterior, he was a heartthrob, but with our five-minute interaction, I realized if I had to deal with him on a regular basis, I’d have to cave in his chest with my fist or mess up his model-like face.

“For this position, Faith, it is a four-year commitment. Will you be able to do that?” The woman interrupted my violent thoughts toward her worse half.

Four years?

I thought it was two.

Wow, that was unusual. I thought about it—the money it paid and what was feasible. I’d likely not find a husband anytime soon, which meant I was free as a bird for the next four years.

“That won’t be a problem,” I answered. “Can I see Casey?”

Mrs. Vega looked at her husband, but he shrugged and nodded back to her as if to say this was her show.

“Sure, he’s in his room, playing video games. He likes the old-school ones,” she clarified.

I followed her, but the husband stayed put, which was good.

“Sorry again for Logan.” She