Page 207 of Prospector's Peak

My skin broke out in gooseflesh, and I trembled.

Mr. Carrington—middle-aged, potbellied, thinning hair atop his head, married man—took that as a sign of acceptance.

He kept his hand on my arm as he moved even closer.

I dropped the laundry basket.

His too small eyes glistened with hunger.

And with my open palm, I whacked him right in the junk.

He recoiled and groaned in pain, his hand dropping from my arm as he reached down to hold himself. Mildred began to bark loud, high-pitched yelps.

I scooped her up and attempted to silence her, but she would not be shushed.

Mrs. Carrington—fifteen years younger than her husband, Botoxed and bleached out the wazoo—appeared in the doorway of the laundry room.

She glanced from me to her bent-in-half husband. With a bereaved sigh, she said, “Really, Stuart. Another one?”

I blinked. “Anotherone?”

“You don’t really think you’re the first nanny he’s tried to sleep with, do you?” When I couldn’t find the words to speak, she continued, “I assume this means you quit, yes? I’ll be happy to give you a good reference and a severance package. That is, if you understand discretion, of course.”

My eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”

She looked from me to her husband. Disdain flashed across her mouth. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Why on earth do you stay with him?”

She twirled the gargantuan diamond ring on her finger. “Divorce is for the poor, dear. Love has no business in marriage anyway.”

I glanced at the man who was still clutching himself in pain. I then looked at his wife.

“I don’t need severance or a reference to keep quiet,” I stated. “I’m taking the dog.”

I brushed past the woman who smelled like expensive perfume and resignation.

“I rather liked that little thing. Oh, well. Sure, dear. She’s yours.”

Disgust rolled through me.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Stuart,” she snapped. “Can you try and be more discreet next time?

I clutched Mildred tighter, wanting to give her the love her previous owners never had.

She licked my face.

I looked down at her and smiled. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

My phone rang and pleasure blasted through me when I saw Salem’s name.

“You have impeccable timing,” I said to her in way of greeting. “You won’tbelievewhat just happened.”

“Wyn.” Her voice cracked.

I stopped walking, icy fear permeating my body. “What?”

“It’s Hadley . . . and the baby. You have to?—”

“I’m on my way.”