Ronnie bounces on the soles of her shoes. “Does that mean you want the job?”
Startled green eyes lift to me before returning to the only one giving her answers. “What job?”
“Since I can’t have you as a mommy”—Ronnie rolls her eyes like that’s total bullshit and she smells it—“you’re gonna be my nanny.”
“Your nanny?” Frankie sputters. “Me?”
“Yep!” My little girl resumes bombing her with affection, holding tight enough to probably hurt. “We looked everywhere, but couldn’t find you. I’m never losing you again.”
“Ohhhhh, no.” Red hair whips in the breeze as she shakes her head wildly. “No, no, no.”
Ronnie just nods. “Daddy said I get to pick who hangs out with me. I told him I only want the superhero lady.” She catches Frankie’s bewildered stare and whispers, “That’s you.”
The shocked woman opens and closes her mouth, soundlessly searching for an escape. “I don’t have any experience with kids.”
“You’re about to get plenty of it,” I interject.
Frankie gawks at me. “You’re encouraging this?”
“Can you blame me?” I jut my chin at where Ronnie is gazing at her with pure admiration.
“Yes! I’m not fit for the role.”
“My daughter says otherwise. I have my doubts, but your rap sheet isn’t that terrifying, darlin’.” I shrug, completely unbothered.
“Quit with that,” she snaps.
A grunt of agreement trips out of me. “Yeah, you’re more of a menace.”
Ronnie tilts her head. “What’s a menace?”
“Trouble,” I answer while keeping my determined stare set on the problem. “Are you going to deny her?”
“This isn’t fair.” Frankie motions to the position she’s been put in.
I let my earlier chuckle tumble free. “Little menace, you of all people should know life ain’t fair.”
Unknown Sender: Make your decision yet?
Me: Depends who’s asking…
Iroll my eyes at myself. As if I don’t know. Only one insistent little girl, along with her extremely attractive father, are waiting to hear from me. Not that I actually planned to contact them. After wiggling my way out of Ronnie’s grasp, I spit out the first noncommittal response that came to mind and took off in the opposite direction. That’s twice I’ve run from them. It’s pitiful.
Much like my attempt to blend in with the locals at their beloved cafe. They all stare at me like I’m a stain on this town. My tattoos and leather might as well be a neon sign, labeling me a fraud. I should slink back to the wrong side of the tracks, but I won’t give them the satisfaction of scaring me off too.
Byron: Ronnie won’t take no for an answer.
My stomach knots. I might not be a kid person, but knowing I’m going to disappoint that innocent child doesn’t sit well. That doesn’t mean I’m fit to be her nanny.
Me: Tell her I left town.
Byron: I don’t make a habit of lying to my daughter.
Me: Not my problem. How’d you get my number?
Byron: Bianca gave it to me.
Betrayal burns my cheeks, which has nothing to do with the shameless leers everyone is aiming at me. Whispers lash my ears, telling me what I already know. I glare at the screen and toggle over to my thread with the traitor.