Page 17 of The Keeper

“Evie knows today is your trial run. That means you’re running the show.” Noah parked himself in the corner and retrieved a small notepad and pen from his pocket. “Pretend I’m not here. Act as if I’m at work and you have to take care of her for the entire day.”

Seriously? Was the notepad necessary?

I looked at Evie.

“Don’t mind him,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s always like this with new nannies.”

Lucky me.

I took a deep breath and threw together a quick itinerary in my head. I wasn’t familiar with Evie’s likes and dislikes, but some things were near-universal for preteen girls.

“In that case, what would you like for breakfast?” That seemed like a reasonable way to kick things off. “I can make eggs, pancakes⁠—”

The furious scratch of pen on paper interrupted me. I glared at Noah, who arched one eyebrow and tapped his pen against the notepad. Remember, I’m not here, his expression said.

Was it frowned upon to strangle your employer within five minutes of starting your job? Because I think a jury would be on my side if they spent even a fraction of that time with Noah.

I gritted my teeth and faced Evie again. “Actually, why don’t we make breakfast together?” I said brightly. That seemed more fun and interactive than having her sit there while I cooked. “We can each choose a dish we want to eat.”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes! Dad never lets me cook!” She scrambled out of her seat and beelined toward the cabinets.

Shit. Strike one.

I studiously avoided his gaze, but the heat of his glare burned a hole in my back.

The only way I’d survive the day was if I blocked him out like he’d suggested, so I forced myself to ignore his judgmental scribbling and focus solely on Evie instead.

I hoped the reason he didn’t let her cook was because he was an overprotective father and not because she had a history of burning the kitchen down.

I selected French toast for my breakfast while she opted for blueberry pancakes. I pulled up the recipes on my phone and the kitchen’s designated iPad so we could reference both at the same time.

Evie glanced over in the middle of measuring her ingredients and giggled. “You have flour on your nose.”

I checked my reflection in the stainless-steel toaster. She was right. “You shouldn’t laugh,” I said with mock offense. “So do you.”

I tapped my flour-y finger against her nose. She yelped and ducked away with a squeal of laughter, but she got me back soon after by smearing her hand across my cheek.

Oh, it was on.

We forgot all about breakfast as we chased each other around the kitchen. Giggles and the patter of running feet filled the room. I was laughing so hard I barely paid attention to Noah’s reaction.

Maybe making a mess of the formerly spotless kitchen wasn’t a good idea, but we were having fun. Taking care of children wasn’t just about discipline; you had to connect with them too.

Eventually, we did settle down and clean up our mess. We even managed to whip up a semi-decent breakfast.

“Why doesn’t your dad let you cook?” I asked. “You make great pancakes.”

We were sharing our plates. I’d thought about offering some food to Noah, but Evie had stopped me with a small shake of her head. I’d followed her lead; she knew these trial runs better than I did.

“He’s okay with it if he’s here, but he doesn’t trust the nannies to supervise me,” she said. “He’s worried I’ll hurt myself again.”

“Again?”

“I burned myself trying to make bacon last year and had to go to the hospital.”

I winced. Ouch.

I couldn’t resist looking at Noah. His mouth tightened, and it was clear he didn’t approve of Evie sharing that little snippet. Or maybe he simply didn’t approve of me. His notepad was probably filled with criticism about my nanny-ing style.