The Nanny Bombshell. Michelle Celmer
entrance behind the kitchen. Sierra couldn’t help but wonder how Coop would know the cereal was low and why he would even bother to look.
“The girls are eating solid foods?” she asked him.
“Cereal and fruit. And of course formula. It’s astounding how much they can put away. I feel as if I’m constantly making bottles.”
He made the bottles? She had a hard time picturing that. Surely Ms. Cranky-Pants must have been doing most of the work.
“Are they sleeping through the night?” she asked him.
“Not yet. It’s getting better, though. At first, they woke up constantly.” He smiled down at Ivy affectionately, and a little sadly, brushing a wisp of hair off her forehead. “I think they just really missed their parents. But last night they only woke up twice, and they both went back to their cribs. Half the time they end up in my bed with me. I’ll admit that I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Alone.”
“You get up with them?” she asked, not meaning to sound quite so incredulous.
Rather than look offended, he smiled. “Yeah, and I’ll warn you right now that they’re both bed hogs. I have no idea how a person so small could take up so much room.”
The idea of him, such a big, burly, rough-around-the-edges guy, snuggled up in bed with two infants, was too adorable for words.
“Out of curiosity, who did you think would get up with them?” he asked.
“I just assumed … I mean, doesn’t Ms. Densmore take care of them?”
“She occasionally watches them while I work, but only because I’m desperate. After raising six kids of her own and two of her grandchildren, she says she’s finished taking care of babies.”
So much for Sierra’s spinster theory.
“Is she always so …” She struggled for a kind way to say nasty, but Cooper seemed to read her mind.
“Cranky? Incorrigible?” he suggested, with a slightly crooked smile that she hated to admit made her heart beat the tiniest bit faster.
She couldn’t help smiling back.
“She won’t be winning any congeniality awards, I know, but she’s a good housekeeper, and one hel …” he grinned and shook his head. “I mean heck of a fantastic cook. Sorry, I’m not used to having to censor my language.”
At least he was making an effort. He would be thankful for that in a year or so when the twins started repeating everything he said verbatim.
“Ms. Densmore isn’t crazy about the bad language, either,” he said. “Of course, sometimes I do it just to annoy her.”
“I don’t think she likes me much,” Sierra said.
“It really doesn’t matter what she thinks. She’s not hiring you. I am. And I happen to think you’re perfect for the job.” He paused then added, “I’m assuming, since you’re here now, that you’re still interested.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Absolutely. Does that mean you’re officially offering it to me?”
“Under one condition—I need your word that you’ll stick around. That you’re invested in the position. I can’t tell you how tough that first week was, right after …” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and blew it out. “Things have just begun to settle down, and I’ve got the girls in something that resembles a routine. They need consistency—or at least that’s what the social worker told me. The worst thing for them would be a string of nannies bouncing in and out of their lives.”
He would never have to worry about that with her. “I won’t let them down.”
“You’re sure? Because these two are a handful. It’s a lot of work. More than I ever imagined possible. Professional hockey was a cakewalk compared to this. I need to be sure that you’re committed.”
“I’m giving up my apartment and putting my dad in a home that I can’t begin to afford without this salary. I’m definitely committed.”
He looked relieved. “In that case, the job is yours. And the sooner you can start, the better.”
Her own relief was so keen she could have sobbed. She hugged Fern closer. Her little girls would be okay. She would be there to take care of them, to nurture them. And maybe someday, when they were old enough to understand, she would be able to tell them who she really was and explain why she had let them go. Maybe she could be a real mother to them.
“Miss Evans?” Coop was watching her expectantly, waiting for a reply.
“It’s Sierra,” she told him. “And I can start right away if that works for you. I just need a day to pack and move my things in.”
He looked surprised. “What about your apartment? Your furniture? Don’t you need time to—”
“I’ll sublet. A friend from work is interested in taking my place and she’ll be using all my furniture.” Her dad’s furniture, actually. By the time Sierra started making enough money to afford her own place, he was too sick to live alone, so she had stayed with him instead, on the pull-out couch of the dinky one-bedroom apartment he’d had to take when he went on disability. She had never really had a place of her own. And from the looks of it, she wouldn’t for a very long time. But if that meant the girls would be happy and well taken care of, it was a sacrifice she was happy to make.
“I just need to pack my clothes and a few personal items,” she told him. “I can do that today and move everything over tomorrow.”
“And work? You don’t need to give them notice?”
She shook her head. She was taking a chance burning that bridge, but being with the girls as soon as possible took precedence. As long as they needed her, she wouldn’t be going back to nursing anyway.
“I’ll have Ben, my lawyer, draw up the contract this afternoon,” he said. “Considering my former profession there are privacy issues.”
“I understand.”
“And of course you’re welcome to have your own lawyer look at it before you sign.”
“I’ll call him today.”
“Great. Why don’t I show you the girls’ room, and where you’ll be staying?”
“Okay.”
They got up from the floor and he led her down the hall, Ivy in his arms and Sierra holding Fern, who seemed perfectly content despite Sierra being a relative stranger. Was it possible that she sensed the mother-daughter connection? Or was she just a friendly, outgoing baby?
“This is the nursery,” he said, indicating a door on the left and gesturing her inside. It was by far the largest and prettiest little girls’ room she had ever laid eyes on. The color scheme was pale pink and pastel green. The walls, bedding, curtains and even the carpet looked fluffy and soft, like cotton candy. Matching white cribs perched side by side, and a white rocking chair sat in the corner next to the window. She could just imagine herself holding the girls close, singing them a lullaby and rocking them to sleep.
This room was exactly what she would have wanted for them but never could have afforded. With her they wouldn’t have had more than a tiny corner of her bedroom.
“It’s beautiful, Cooper.”
“It’s Coop,” he said and flashed that easy grin. “No one but my mom called me Cooper, and that was usually when she was angry about something. And as for the room, I can’t take credit. It’s an exact reproduction of their room at Ash and Susan’s. I thought it might make the transition easier for them.”
Once again he had surprised her. Maybe he wasn’t quite as self-centered as she first imagined. Or maybe he was only playing the role of responsible uncle out of