Boom - Sabrina Stark Page 0,98

to frown in new confusion.

Standing on the front porch was a little girl, maybe seven or eight years old.

She was utterly alone.

What the heck?

I hustled to the door and answered before she could run off. Summoning up a smile, I said, "Hi."

She grinned up at me, revealing one missing front tooth. "Hi."

My pint-sized visitor had long brown hair, big brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She wore dark jeans, a pink T-shirt, pink sneakers, and a little black jean jacket.

I had no idea who she was, or what she was doing here. "So…are you looking for someone?"

"Sort of." She leaned forward. "But I'm not supposed to."

I hesitated. "Oh yeah? Why not?"

She glanced around before whispering, "Because I snuck out."

She was so adorable, I didn't know whether to laugh or call the police. "Really? From where?"

"Home, that's where." She frowned. "Veronica was asleep. Last night, she was up super late talking to her boyfriend. And she's not a morning person. That's what she told me on her first day." Her little eyebrows furrowed. "And on her second day, too. She says it a lot."

I nodded in encouragement. She'd just given me a lot of information, even if very little of it was actually useful. Still, I made a point to smile. "So, who's Veronica?"

"She's my nanny. She doesn't want to be. But she still is."

I felt my brow wrinkle in new confusion. "Oh yeah?" In my whole life, I'd never met anyone with an actual nanny, even here on this street, where the waterfront homes tended to be a lot pricier than average.

I was no expert on nannies, but even I knew that Veronica had to be a pretty bad one if she'd lost track of her charge. And what was the deal about her not wanting to be this girl's nanny?

Had Veronica actually said that to her?

Even though I'd never met this Veronica person, I disliked her already.

Still, I smiled down at the little girl. "And what's your name?"

"Willow."

"Willow what?"

"Willow Taylor."

Taylor. Taylor…

I tried to think. Wasn't there a Taylor family a few doors down?

No. They were the Tylers.

I said, "By any chance, you don't mean Tyler, do you?"

Willow frowned up at me. "I know my own name, Silly."

"Oh. Of course you do. Sorry."

And just like that, she was smiling again. "That's okay. Veronica gets my name wrong, too."

I felt my jaw clench. Worst. Nanny. Ever.

Right then and there, I decided that when I tracked down this Veronica person, I'd tell her exactly what I thought of her nannyship. Or nannyhood. Or whatever it was called.

I asked Willow, "So, where do you live?"

Willow extended her arm and pointed somewhere off to the left.

I looked to where she pointed, but couldn’t be sure which house she meant. I pointed in the same direction. "So, that big blue house on the water?"

Willow shook her head. "Nope. Not that one."

I kept my smile plastered in place. "The yellow one next to it?"

Again, she shook her head. "Nope."

I hesitated. "But, um…I'm pretty sure that's where you pointed." Or at least, it was one of the two houses.

Willow gave a snort of laughter. "Yeah, but I live way past that."

"Oh." The longer this went on, the more concerned I was getting. It was barely seven o'clock in the morning, and she was out here on her own.

Surely someone would be looking for her. With a smile, I said, "How about I'll grab my shoes and walk you home?"

Willow peered around me and gave a long, drawn-out sniff. Her eyes brightened. "Is that bacon?"

I knew I liked this kid.

But then I froze. Oh, crap. The bacon.

I held up a finger. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"

And with that, I left the front door open and practically sprinted to the stove, where the bacon wasn't quite yet burnt. Frantically, I shut off the burner and moved the pan aside. And then, I sprinted down the hallway and knocked on the bedroom door where Cami was sleeping.

She had a whole bunch of siblings and a degree in primary education. If anyone could handle this, it was Cami.

Chapter 56

Brody

"I'll tell you why," Chase said. "She's playing you."

This wasn't what I wanted to hear, especially at seven o'clock on a Friday morning.

I'd just flown back from California, and I felt like shit.

It wasn't because of jet leg. It was because of Arden.

I'd been pissed off all week, and I was having a hard time shaking it. Rather than returning to the crew house, I'd gone instead to my condo