Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
He looked me over before walking away, leaving my question unanswered.
“Thanks so much for all your help!” I yelled once he slipped into the hallway.
I had seven more minutes before I needed to return to the entrance, and I wasn’t ready to give up quite yet.
Stepping outside, I called Sasha again.
“Hello?” Her voice was faint. “Hello? Harlow?”
“Yes, it’s me! Can you hear me? I need you to—”
The call dropped, and a flurry of texts hit my screen.
Sasha
Sorry! There’s terrible service in this cafe.
Good luck with your interview for the Sweet 16 Party today! The moment they taste your cupcakes, that job is 100% yours!
Surrendering to the situation, I returned to the front entrance.
“Good afternoon, Miss!” The bellman smiled as if this was our first encounter. “What brings you here today?”
“I have a three thirty interview with the resident in the penthouse suite.”
“Wow, how fascinating. I wish you the best of luck.” He opened the door. “The elevator is inside and to your right. Please take the same route down when you’re finished.”
“Thank you.” I stepped inside and inhaled a sharp breath.
The white marble floors sparkled like diamonds, so much so that I was scared to scratch them with my heels. A stone fountain shaped like the Triborough Bridge spouted water along its “road,” and into a wishing base.
There wasn’t a single penny sitting at its bottom.
Of course. I stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the top floor.
As the doors glided shut and revealed my reflection, I regretted not rushing home to change out of this dress.
Ping!
The doors opened, revealing more marble floors that led to two red French doors.
It’s just an interview, Harlow. Just an interview.
I knocked three times.
No answer.
I knocked again, a lot harder.
Nothing.
Before I could put all my muscle into it, the door swung open, revealing the beautiful, unhelpful bastard from the library. Somehow, in the minutes since I’d last seen him, he’d gotten even sexier.
“Um, hello,” I said.
“Hello.”
“I’m here to try a new position on you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean…” I could stare into this man’s blue eyes for days. “I mean, I’m here about the new nanny position.”
“Hmmm.” He was staring into my eyes, too. “There’s a doorbell you could’ve used to get my attention.”
Where? “It wasn’t working, so I figured I’d knock instead.”
“I think it works just fine.” He pressed the button I’d somehow missed, and the soft sound of chimes echoed through the hall.
My cheeks flushed red, and I didn’t bother trying to save myself from that blatant lie.
“Good to see we both know who lives on the top floor now,” he said.
“Well, I will if you finally give me your name.”
“Good point.” A smirk crossed his lips, but no name fell from them. “What’s yours?”
“Harlow Hawthorne.”
“That’s quite a mouthful.”
“I’ve heard…” I waited for him to extend his hand, but he just stared at me.
“You look a little young to have over a decade of childcare experience, Miss Hawthorne.”
“I’m twenty seven.”
“So, you’ve been watching children professionally since you were seventeen?”
“Well, I—I used to watch all my cousins, some neighbors’ kids, and I did get paid for that, and I—” I stuttered. “You see, when I went to the agency today, they told me...”
He arched a brow, waiting for me to string a coherent sentence.
“Because when they started asking me questions, she was like pediatric aid, and I said Paw Patrol, and then…” I stopped trying and let it remain undone.
“Let’s talk.” He opened the door to his condo, ushering for me to step inside.
My eyes widened as I took in the stunning view from his floor-to-ceiling windows. From here, he could see all of Central Park, and the buildings that dotted New York’s skyline looked like Legos.
“What made you apply for this position?” he asked.
“The position came to me, actually.” I bit my tongue to save myself from tossing another word salad. “But I’m very much interested, and if you give me a chance, I won’t disappoint you.”
“In that case, I need you to demonstrate how you change diapers.”
Diapers? “Your children are babies?”
“Over there.” He ignored my question, pointing to a table where two rubber baby dolls lay. He pulled a cloth diaper off the boy and handed it to me.
“Feel free to look at how I like this done on the girl doll, and then show me your best work.” He looked at his watch. “Preferably within the next minute and a half.”
Okay. I should just walk out now.
Ignoring my best judgment, I set down my cupcakes.
I picked up the girl doll and examined her diaper. It was folded and tucked like tortelloni, my favorite pasta.
“Hmmm.” I stretched the cloth and folded the right side, but as I grabbed the left, the rubber baby slipped through my fingers and fell to the floor.
Shit…
It bounced on its butt, and I lunged toward it, but the head snapped off and rolled on top of Mr. Nameless’ Italian leather shoes.