right decisions.” She breathed out one long sigh. “Mary … sweet Mary, is a whole other story. She’s making this particularly hard—their search for my replacement. I think, in her mind, if they don’t find another nanny, I won’t leave, but we all know that’s not the case.”
“Gotcha.” I gave a shaky nod. “Impress sweet Mary who isn’t so sweet.” I bit at my pinkie nail and forced a breath out.
I can do this. I can do this. Maybe if I believed the mantra in my head, I could do this.
Patty shook her head. “She’s sweet when she likes you, and there is no doubt she’ll love you. Mary has this innate gift on how to read people, their intentions and their heart.” She tipped my chin with the lightness of her fingertips. “And you, Becky, have the kindest of hearts.”
The mansion door opened and shut and then opened again. For a brief second, a mini human peered out, and I saw a flash of blonde hair and electric-blue eyes. My eyes blinked wide. She was stunning.
The door shut again, and Patty stepped out of the car. “And that will be my Mary. We’d better go. She’s expecting us.”
With one big breath, I straightened and pushed back my shoulders, exuding confidence I didn’t really have.
Patty’s voice resounded in my head, and I made it my mantra. Be yourself. Be yourself. Be yourself.
I swallowed hard.
What if it wasn’t good enough?
When I entered the house, the three Brisken men—who were all tall and alarmingly good looking with dark brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes—stood in the foyer to meet me. I had to pause and blink, almost pinching myself as I took the three brothers in.
I swore I’d stepped into a magazine featuring the rich and famous.
“Hi. I’m Mason.” He offered his hand and I shook it firmly.
“I’m Becky,” I said.
“Let me take your bags.” He lifted my bags out of my hands like they were air.
Mason had a runner’s build. He wore a pressed polo shirt, meant for work, and slacks that were creased as though they were newly ironed.
He was assessing me already with his eyes, trying to get a good read on me. I teetered in my gym shoes and tried to rein in my nerves. Patty had briefed me on each of their personalities. Before he even introduced himself, I would have guessed he was Mason.
Another Brisken brother stepped forward, this one with a mischievous, boyish grin, as though he had a secret, and he had buckets of charm oozing out of him, simply standing there. “And I’m—”
“Brad,” I said, smiling, finishing his sentence.
He laughed, taking my hand. “How did you know? Patty has been talking about me,” he guessed. “Is it my stunning good looks? My award-winning smile?” He rubbed at his jaw in an overly exaggerated way, and I laughed.
“She talks about you guys all the time when she comes home.” I motioned to everyone.
He nodded and then leaned in, getting eye-level with me. “Just know, I’m not into dating nannies, so don’t get any ideas.” Despite his words, he gave me a flirtatious once-over. “Though I do think you’re quite a looker.” He nudged Patty’s shoulder. “You were right, Pats.”
I tipped my chin, my eyes light. “But if you aren’t into nannies, is all the talk about what’s happening between you and Patty just gossip, then?”
He smirked. “I already got down on one knee. Ask her.”
Patty simply shook her head, as though she was used to Brad’s jokes.
My eyes took in the only man left that I hadn’t been introduced to—the father of the girls, the one who most likely had the final say. He was built like a football player, broad shoulders, arms as big as boulders. His face was ruggedly handsome, and his profile was sharp and confident and spoke of power.
My nerves spiked again, and I took a calming breath before stepping toward him. “And you must be Charles.”
When I placed my hand in his, I had a strong awareness of my heart beating too loudly in my ears. I blamed it on the fact that he was the girls’ father, so I had to impress him the most.
His eyes were a stunning brown, reminding me of molten chocolate. The other brothers had dark chocolate eyes, too, but something in Charles’s irises stilled me.
Where Brad oozed charm, Charles exuded strength. It wasn’t in the broadness of his shoulders or his over-six-foot height. It was the depth behind his eyes, a strength that I