Billionaire Grump E-Book

Willow Fox

• Herausgeber: Slow Burn Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

I am Levi Luxenberg. Forty-year-old billionaire. CEO of Luxenberg Enterprises. And apparently, father of one.
A week ago, having kids wasn’t even in my ten-year plan.
Now, I have a five-year-old daughter who will hardly look in my direction.
I am aware that Amelia is grieving her mother’s death, and I swear I’m not a complete jerk, but I jumped on a private jet to Chicago at a moment’s notice, and the kid won’t even say a word to me.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, our pilot just got sick and I have to fly commercial for the first time in years.
You’d think that would be the end of it, but no.
The cherry on top?
Amelia would rather interact with Clare, the divorced, jobless, tipsy woman sitting right in front of us, than me.
She chats with her, she smiles at her—she even draws her a freaking picture.
I would be really mad if I didn’t actually need a nanny. Urgently.
Since my assistant screwed my wanted ad over and made me look like a grumpy billionaire desperately looking for a wife, Clare suddenly seems perfect for the job.
She has no place to live, no idea who I am, and no qualms about being my live-in nanny on a trial basis.
The problem is, I think I might want to keep her around longer…

This romcom features a grumpy single dad, a spicy romance, no cheating, and a happily ever after. It can be read as a standalone.

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2022 by Willow Fox & Allison West

All rights reserved.

Edited & Proofread by Jennifer Lumen, Marla VanHoy, Lila W. (no1_scribbler), Melanie Kirk

Cover Design by GetCovers

v2

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

About this Book

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

About the Author

Giveaways, Free Books, and More Goodies

Also by Willow Fox

ABOUT THIS BOOK

I am Levi Luxenberg. Forty-year-old billionaire. CEO of Luxenberg Enterprises. And apparently, father of one.

A week ago, having kids wasn’t even in my ten-year plan.

Now, I have a five-year-old daughter who will hardly look in my direction.

I am aware that Amelia is grieving her mother’s death, and I swear I’m not a complete jerk, but I jumped on a private jet to Chicago at a moment’s notice, and the kid won’t even say a word to me.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, our pilot just got sick and I have to fly commercial for the first time in years.

You’d think that would be the end of it, but no.

The cherry on top?

Amelia would rather interact with Clare, the divorced, jobless, tipsy woman sitting right in front of us, than me.

She chats with her, she smiles at her—she even draws her a freaking picture.

I would be really mad if I didn’t actually need a nanny. Urgently.

Since my assistant screwed my wanted ad over and made me look like a grumpy billionaire desperately looking for a wife, Clare suddenly seems perfect for the job.

She has no place to live, no idea who I am, and no qualms about being my live-in nanny on a trial basis.

The problem is, I think I might want to keep her around longer…

ONE

Levi

“Grumpy Billionaire desperately seeks a nanny for his five-year-old daughter. Expect to work late nights, have no social life, lots of tears, and absolutely no alcohol, drugs, parties, or fun.”

That was the ad that went out this morning. My assistant, fed up with my shenanigans, decided to give me a taste of my own medicine. I can’t believe Nancy thought that’s what I wanted the ad to say, that I’m a billionaire. Is she trying to attract every gold digger?

I’ll admit that I haven’t always been kind to my assistant. She’s been required to field calls from previous dates, forced to tell them I’m not interested.

Is this her idea of payback?

“What?” I answer my phone. It’s my assistant.

“Did you get the text that your flight home has been canceled?”

“No,” I growl, and put Nancy on speakerphone while I open up my messages. There are dozens of messages and even more emails that have been ignored.

I’m a busy man, and I haven’t had time over the past forty-eight hours to deal with work.

I just discovered I’m a father, and the little girl was whisked into a temporary foster home after her mother died in an automobile accident.

My attorney handled a comparative DNA test and requested Amelia’s DNA. I saw the truth for myself on paper. Although after staring at the young girl, her eyes as blue as the depths of the ocean, I know the kid is undoubtedly mine. She has Katelyn’s blonde hair and build. She’s small for her age, but Amelia’s birth certificate indeed has my name as the father. And the kid’s date of birth matches up to when Katelyn and I had been together.

Amelia hasn’t said a word since I met her. I’m sure the kid talks, but the silence is heavier than anything I could have imagined.

I’m sure it’s because she’s grieving.

Me too.

But for different reasons.

I’m not ready to be a father.

I glance down at the little girl seated across from me. She hasn’t touched her breakfast, and I practically ordered one of everything on the menu because she refused to give the waitress her order.

“I can book you two first-class tickets direct from O’Hare to JFK.”

“Inform Douglas of the travel situation and that we’ll need to be picked up from JFK.”

“I’m on it,” Nancy says. “I’ll text you the flight details.”

“I hate flying commercial,” I grumble.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Luxenberg.”

“Yeah, me too.” I end the call and shove my phone into my jacket pocket.

Amelia stares at me, her pancakes untouched. Just like the strawberry milkshake, with whipped cream that dribbles down the side of the glass.

I steal a piece of her bacon, and her eyes narrow at me like it’s hers and I shouldn’t touch it. But she doesn’t scold me.

I’m only met with further silence. I’d almost rather her yell, scream, cry, and throw a temper tantrum. Not that I’d be good with handling that type of outburst, but the silence hurts my heart so damn much.

I’m in over my head, and I desperately need a nanny, someone who is good with kids.

My phone pings in my pocket, and I grab it, glancing at the text from Nancy confirming the seat assignments. We’re both on the same flight, but Amelia is assigned to the row in front of me.

The seats aren’t together.

“Fuck!”

Amelia’s eyes widen, and her jaw drops as she stares at me.

“Don’t say that word,” I scold before she can repeat it.

We finish at the restaurant and head straight for the airport. I don’t have any checked baggage, only the carry-on suitcase and backpack. The kid didn’t come with many clothes, only a small knapsack with a handful of outfits.

Last night and again this morning, Amelia refused to change out of the bright-pink frilly tutu, white tights, and white T-shirt. It’s amazing her white shirt is still clean after sleeping at the hotel.

Stubborn.

Another reason I need a nanny. I’m not the most patient person.

We board the plane early, and I explain to the stewardess about our seating arrangement. It’s a full flight, but the woman seated next to me offers to switch. She’s cute, with long blonde hair and a full figure that makes my cock twitch admiring her curves.

“Hi, I’m Clare,” the blonde says, smiling at Amelia.

Amelia squeezes her stuffed unicorn tighter. Its mane is rainbow and sparkly, and it’s the only toy the kid brought with her.

“She’s shy,” I say, not wanting to elaborate on the recent trauma in her life to this stranger.

“I was shy when I was her age, too,” Clare says, her eyes entirely on Amelia. It’s as though I don’t exist. “What’s your friend’s name?” she asks, pointing at the unicorn.

Clare shuffles into her new row in front of us on the airplane. She doesn’t sit. She hovers, leaning on the headrest, trying to engage with Amelia.

Amelia doesn’t respond, but I do. And it’s more of a bite.

“That’s enough questions for today,” I say, my temper short. I gesture for her to turn around in her seat.

“You don’t have to be rude,” Clare says, and spins around, sitting in her seat.

Amelia’s nose scrunches, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She brings the unicorn to her face, and her mouth moves ever so quietly, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. It’s like a secret between her and her fluffy friend.

I don’t apologize to the girl seated in the row in front of us. Maybe I should since she is doing me a favor, switching seats.

“Have you ever been on an airplane?” I ask Amelia.

She doesn’t answer me. Her mother didn’t always live in Chicago. I met her in New York. We were a short romance that burned bright and hot early on.

At take-off, Amelia grips the chair handle. I rest my hand over hers. “It’s okay. Just a little bumpy. It’s supposed to be like this,” I assure her.

There’s no sign of her nodding or saying anything to indicate that she understands me. Her mother, Katelyn, didn’t speak any other languages, as far as I’m aware.

After we’ve reached cruising altitude, the stewardess asks us for our drink orders. I refrain from having any alcohol. I’d love a stiff drink right now, but it’s not going to help me forget why I was in Chicago.

I retrieve a few children’s menus and crayons from the backpack. One side has drawings to color along with the menu, and the opposite side is blank. Thankfully, the restaurant gave us extra for the flight. Pulling down the tray table in front of Amelia, I put the items down, letting her color.

She stares at them and then glances back at me.

“Go ahead. You can color,” I say.

I don’t know much about kids, let alone raising one. My younger brother, Connor, is a dipshit, and thank god he hasn’t procreated.

I’ve tried to look out for him. Hell, I gave him a job in management at the New York hotel. But he has a knack for either firing decent employees or making them want to quit. But I’m not going to just hand him a paycheck and not make him get his ass into work five days a week. Where else can I put him?

I may have inherited the company, but I also turned this place around. It was barely profitable when I took over after our father’s death. I had no choice but to shake things up and make it better, because otherwise, who would take care of Mom?

Dad left me the business, which meant taking care of my mother and handling my younger brother. I’m not a complete dick. I didn’t put either of them out on the street, though it was tempting with Connor.

The seatbelt fasten light is turned off, and the girl in the row in front of us turns around, watching Amelia.

“What are you drawing?” Clare asks.

Amelia scrunches her nose. The paper is completely blank.

“How about you draw a picture of your balding dad?” Clare grins.

“I’m not balding,” I snarl. Why can’t she turn around and mind her own business?

“Right,” Clare says, and snaps. “What’s that called again with the hair that’s spikey?” She gestures above her own head like her hair is sticking up two feet high.

Amelia chuckles and points at my head. “Troll hair,” Amelia says with a giggle.

I suppose it’s better than being called balding at my age. “Do you think I’ve got troll hair?” I force a smile, grateful to have heard little Amelia’s voice.

Amelia shrugs, the smile vanishing, and my heart aches.

I want to hear her laugh and be carefree. She’s five. She should be over the moon with curiosity and talkative. This quiet side is frustrating to deal with.

Clare stares at us, and before I have time to comprehend what she’s doing, her fingers are running through my hair. She’s making my hair spiky and stand on end.

Amelia giggles and smiles the biggest grin, pointing at my head. “Troll hair.”

“Can you draw me a troll?” Clare asks.

Amelia nods and reaches for the purple crayon, gripping it tight as she begins coloring on the blank white paper.

I breathe a sigh of relief and run my hand through my unkempt hair, trying to fix the mess before our plane lands. There’s enough press in New York to spot me the minute I step off the plane, and I don’t need ridiculous pictures in the newspaper and on social media of me with troll hair.

As it is, I’ll have to put out a press release and make a public announcement about Amelia before I’m bludgeoned with accusations.

Clare gives me a thousand-watt smile, but it’s clearly forced. She turns around and heads toward the stewardess, saying something quietly to her.

Both of their eyes latch on me before looking away.

I’m used to the stares and curiosity. She must have realized that I’m billionaire Levi Luxenberg. I’ve been on magazine covers and interviewed by celebrities. I’m used to the attention. Usually, I ignore it.

But now I’m not just looking after myself. I have Amelia, and I can’t keep my daughter a secret. I just have to ask everyone to respect our privacy.

I keep an eye on the stewardess once Clare is back in her seat, making sure no one is snapping photos of Amelia and me on the plane together.

Thirty minutes later, Clare turns around to check on Amelia. “How’s the drawing?”

Amelia is still very hard at work on her troll drawing. I didn’t expect much, but the kid has a knack for artwork. She doesn’t answer Clare, but that’s okay because I know that she can, and eventually, she’ll speak when she’s ready.

The stewardess brings Clare a mini bottle of vodka, and she mixes it with orange juice, holding it while talking. I haven’t been paying attention to how much she’s been drinking in front of us, but this isn’t the first drink that she’s been served.

I opted to get Amelia an apple juice, which she’s sipped a few times.

Clare’s cheeks are red and her lips glossy. “I wish we could stay in the air forever, just keep flying.”

“Why?” Amelia asks, glancing up from her crayons.

My kid seems to be enthralled with the tipsy woman seated in the row in front of us. Great.

“I don’t want to face New York. After a loveless marriage and finally growing the balls to leave my narcissistic and emotionally abusive ex, I have to find a job and a home with nothing lined up. I spent six years as a preschool teacher, and I loved every minute of it. But the minute we got married, he made me leave my job. He didn’t like that I wasn’t home when he wasn’t home. Afraid that I’d have a life outside of him. Jealous douch—” She slaps a hand over her mouth and looks at Amelia. “Oops, I meant jealous guy.”

Mostly unfazed, she continues to ramble, not the least bit done with her overshare.

“My best friend let me stay in Chicago with her during the divorce, but I’ve worn out my welcome. Newlyweds,” she says with a laugh. “See why I’d rather just stay in the air and fly free?”

“And you thought spending money on a first-class plane ticket would be smart?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I stole these airline miles from my ex.”

I offer a wayward smile. “Good for you.”

Amelia stares up at Clare, perplexed. I imagine that most of that went right over the kid’s head.

“What are your plans when you land in New York?” I ask.

She sips the orange juice and vodka from the clear plastic cup. “I don’t know. I’ve been in survival mode for the past eight months. My ex bled me dry with the divorce. I’ll probably flip burgers or something and sleep in a cardboard box.”

Amelia hands the troll drawing to Clare.

“Is this for me?” Clare asks with wide eyes. Amelia nods. “Why don’t you give it to your dad? I’ll bet he’d like to hang it on the fridge.”

“I don’t have a dad,” Amelia whispers, staring up at Clare.

My stomach clenches at her remark. “I’m her father,” I say, clearing my throat.

Clare stares pointedly at me like she doesn’t believe me. “The kid obviously doesn’t think you are. Maybe I should sit with her.”

“Excuse me?” I’m appalled by her suggestion.

“Would you like me to sit with you, sweetie?” Clare asks Amelia.

Amelia glances from me to Clare. The kid doesn’t know what the hell is going on, and neither does the woman sitting one row in front of us.

Amelia unlatches her seatbelt and wiggles around me to get out of the aisle. I grab her waist, not letting her run around like a maniac on an airplane. Now isn’t the time or place for her to run free.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to remove your hands from the little girl,” the stewardess says, exchanging a brief glance with Clare.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m her father!”

“You need to calm down, sir,” the flight attendant says.

Amelia’s eyes widen, and she scurries away from me after I lash out at the stewardess. She climbs into Clare’s lap, which is not helping matters.

“She’s my daughter,” I say.

The stewardess bends down to Amelia’s level. “Is that man your father?” she asks the little girl.

Amelia’s eyes widen, and she glances from me back to the stewardess. We’re all met with silence.

Fuck.

“Amelia, come back to your seat,” I seethe, trying my best not to raise my voice, but my jaw is tight, and my hands are bunched into fists.

I don’t blame Amelia. It’s the stewardess and the nosey blonde who have decided to muck into other people’s business.

Amelia doesn’t respond to me, and why would she? We barely know each other. Doesn’t she get that if she leaves me, she’ll be back in foster care? She had to be put in emergency placement with a family until I arrived. Does she want to go back?

“Sir, sit down in your seat,” the stewardess says.

“Is this how you treat your first-class passengers? You kidnap their children?”

“You’re right, sir. I apologize. How about you show us photos of your daughter on your phone? Then we can clear up this entire misunderstanding before having to get the authorities involved.”

Amelia has been in my custody for less than a day. I don’t have pictures of her on my phone.

“I can’t do that,” I say.

There are no emails from the social worker regarding Amelia, either. Everything was handled by phone or by my assistant.

“That’s what I thought,” the stewardess says.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” I stand to explain the situation without Amelia overhearing it all over again.

“Sir, you’re going to have to sit down. We’re going to be landing soon.”

Not soon enough.

I grumble and plop back down into my seat. I swear I’ll never fly commercial again.

The young gentleman who was in seat 1A climbs into the row beside me, trading seats with Amelia while Clare buckles her seatbelt.

I should be the one fastening her seatbelt and looking after her. She’s my daughter.

As we land, the flight crew announces that no one is to get up from their seats because there’s been a hiccup, and the authorities need to be brought onto the plane.

Fuck.

Could this week get any worse?

* * *

The authorities are brought onto the plane and ask me to get up and come with them. “Only if my daughter is accompanying me,” I say.

“Amelia isn’t his daughter,” Clare says, defiant.

“Is she your daughter, ma’am?” the officer asks.

“No.”

At least Clare isn’t trying to kidnap Amelia.

I grab the backpack from the floor and open the overhead compartment for my luggage. I help Amelia out of her seat, unbuckling her and lifting her into my arms. One arm holds my daughter to my hip while the other carries the luggage behind me.

I’m not letting anyone come between my daughter and me.

“We’ll get this sorted as soon as we’re inside,” the officer says.

Clare follows behind us, and whether she’s invited or not, she’s given herself an invitation.

“Does she have to come?” I jab my thumb behind me at the blonde.

“Yes, she needs to give her statement while we investigate.”

“What’s there to investigate? I flew to Chicago to pick up my daughter. Do you want to know where her mother is? She’s dead.”

Clare gasps. “Did you kill her?”

“What the hell?” I spin around on my heels. “No, I didn’t kill her, you psychopath. She died in an automobile accident.”

Amelia bursts out into tears and squirms in my arms. I’d want to run away from me too if I were her.

I don’t let go, my grip tight without hurting the little girl. “I know, baby girl. Your mom misses you too,” I say, trying to console her.

Her tears turn to hysterical sobs, and she relents, pouring her grief into my neck and chest.

Clare seems lost for words for a moment. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she finally says, patting my shoulder awkwardly.

I glance at her hand on me. “Remove your hand from my shoulder. We’re not friends. You’re just a girl from the airplane who had too much to drink and decided to make wild accusations.”

The officer clears his throat as we approach his office. “Unfortunately, because I removed you from the plane, I have to write up a report and will need to investigate. This will all go smoothly if we can remain calm, and all of you can be on your way shortly.”

* * *

It isn’t the least bit short or quick. And remaining calm isn’t easy, either.

One officer gathers Clare’s statement while Amelia is kept with me in a separate room. There are no windows to the outside, only a one-way mirror.

I’m not a terrorist.

I didn’t kidnap my daughter.

This is absurd.

After the officer confirms that Amelia is legally in my custody, I’m told I can leave. He brings my backpack and carry-on into the room, which apparently has been searched without my permission.

I rezip the compartments. “Not even an apology.” I’m disgusted by their treatment and the baseless accusations.

“You can file a complaint with—”

“Oh, I plan to, along with suing your asses,” I say. I slide the knapsack over my shoulder and lift Amelia into my arms. “It’s time to go home, kid.”

I lift the telescoping handle and drag the carry-on behind me.

Amelia is back to being silent. How could I expect anything else after my outburst earlier in the airport? I had tried so damn hard to keep my shit together, but suddenly, having a kid thrust onto you is heavy as hell. And I’m not talking about the weight of carrying her.

We’re escorted out of the back rooms and into the main area of the airport. We don’t have any additional luggage, so I grab my phone from my pocket and call my driver, Douglas, letting him know that we’re ready.

He’s probably waiting in the nearest cell phone lot to pull up and pick us up. He’s been instructed to purchase a specialty car seat for a five-year-old girl. Douglas has kids of his own, so I expect he knows what type of car seat to purchase, whereas I’m clueless. There are too many out there to figure out which one is the right one to buy.

I hang up the call, shove my phone into my pocket and catch sight of Clare heading for the same exit.

“You again,” I seethe.

Her eyes are bright and heavy, the color of seafoam, a bluish green. “I’m sorry,” Clare says, not that it helps.

“It’s too late for your apology.” I remove my coat, wrapping it around Amelia as I carry her outside. It’s the best I can do on such short notice. The weather in Chicago is warm enough for early October that I didn’t think twice about bringing a jacket. But now it’s late at night, and the air matches my mood—chilly.

I shuffle the backpack on again and keep Amelia nestled up against my chest. Between our body heat and the blazer, she’s at least warm enough not to shiver. Thankfully, it’s not the middle of winter yet.

Clare walks outside with me. “Listen, I really am sorry about that back there.”

“I get it. You were looking out for my daughter.”

“Yes,” Clare says. “She didn’t seem like she was comfortable with you. It never crossed my mind that it might be because of … what happened.” She’s tiptoeing around the words, since I’m holding Amelia in my arms. “I am so sorry, sir. If there is anything I can do to make it up to you. I swear I was just looking out for her best interests. You hear about children being kidnapped or trafficked, and I just wanted to help.”

“Apology not accepted. You tried to have me arrested, Airplane Girl. What did I do to warrant your baseless accusations?”

Clare sighs heavily. “Nothing. I’m the one to blame. It’s my fault.”

“Yes, it is your fault,” I say, pinning her with my stare. “And I thought, wow, this girl really knows how to interact with kids. Shame on me for falling for your ‘poor me, I’m going to be homeless’ speech.”

“My what?”

“You’re going to live in a cardboard box while flipping burgers,” I repeat.

I listen a little too well sometimes.

She cringes as I repeat her words. “Again, I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, anything at all—”

Amelia squirms in my arms, reaching out for Clare.

“No, sweetie. You have to stay with your father,” Clare says.

Amelia leans back, pushing against me, struggling to understand what’s happening. It’s been a tiresome day. She wants to get down, and I’d be fine with that if I knew the kid wouldn’t bolt in front of a car.

I have trust issues right now, with Clare and Amelia.

Amelia reaches her arms out to Clare, again. The kid prefers this stranger over me, although I’m not exactly a person she knows either.

“Do you really not have a place to stay?” I ask, my jaw tight.

Why am I asking? Why am I considering offering her a roof over her head? The girl is trouble. I ought to walk away and never see her again. It would be better for everyone involved.

“I’ll be fine. I can couch surf with my friend. I mean, assuming her Russian Mafia fiancé doesn’t mind me staying over.”

I cough at her words. “You aren’t serious.” The longer we talk to Clare, the more Amelia seems to settle down. My little girl rests her head on my chest, watching the blonde the entire time, never taking her eyes off the woman.

Yeah, baby girl, me either. She’s gorgeous and sexy, yet irritates me all at the same time. Not to mention the age difference. I’d guess she’s barely cresting thirty, and I just hit forty.

It’s frustrating.

“I wish I were joking. But he is hot, and maybe he has a brother who’s available,” Clare says with a smirk.

I pray that she’s joking, but something tells me otherwise.

“Absolutely not.” I pause for a moment, hesitant to say the words. “I need a nanny for Amelia. You can stay with us.” She had mentioned on the airplane that she spent six years working at a preschool.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes widen, and she tilts her head, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. I think I might have, after what happened today. It’s late; not enough sleep and being thrown into the mix with a kid has done something to my mind.

Am I so desperate for a nanny that I’ve offered nosey airplane girl a job working for me?

“You’ll get room and board. There will be a trial period. If you don’t screw things up, I might hire you permanently.”

Amelia stares up at me, her long, dark lashes fluttering closed. She seems to relax in my arms, like the weight of the world was just lifted from her chest.

Mine too.

Assuming that Clare says yes.

TWO

Clare

“You want to hire me after what happened in there?” I ask, gesturing toward the airport. I fucked up big time, shoving my nose into someone else’s business where it didn’t belong.

There’s a spacious, luxury black SUV that pulls up in front of the gentleman. I never caught his name. He didn’t give it to me, and I’d been too busy hounding him to ask for it now.

He stalls, and I really think he’s going to tell me it’s a cruel joke and to get lost.

“I don’t want to, but I think you’re what Amelia needs.”

I chuckle at his remark. I’m certainly not a soft touch. “And the pay?”

“Room and board during the trial period,” he says gruffly.

I’ll bet he can afford more based on the fancy ride and driver, but maybe he hired someone to pick him up. It’s not like he always has someone chauffeur him around, right?

I have nowhere to go, and I can look for other work while I’m living under his roof. At least it’s a bed to sleep in and food in the fridge. Besides, my ungracious ex-husband, Zander, won’t know where I am. He’ll never guess I’m staying with a stranger. Which means I’ll be safe.

“I’ll take it.”

His driver opens the back door and helps Amelia into the car seat. He seems like he’s had more practice than the handsome troll. Not that he looks like a troll, because he doesn’t. Trolls aren’t easy on the eyes and don’t make your heart swoon.

I really thought he was a bad guy kidnapping a little girl. I’m hanging around with Sadie too much, listening to her crazy stories after she swore me to secrecy. Yeah, as if either one of us can keep a secret.

I open the front door to sit up front, and he shakes his head. “Backseat,” he says, putting me in the back with Amelia.

I have my carry-on luggage with me, nothing else, thankfully, or else it would have been a hassle to retrieve after spending nearly three hours dealing with the officers at the airport.

“Where to?” the driver asks, glancing at me.

“She’s coming home with us,” the gruff troll says.

I buckle my seatbelt and lean forward. “Hey, I never got your name.”

He clears his throat. “Good.”

“What?” I don’t understand. “What am I supposed to call you?” I ask. Why is he being so freaking difficult? Does he enjoy this as some type of payback for what I did and the way I treated him? I swear it was just because I was looking out for Amelia. The kid was clearly in trouble. I just didn’t realize that he’d gotten her out of it.

“Sir works for me,” he says.

I huff under my breath. “I’m not calling you sir.”

My cheeks burn at the thought of why I would call him that, down on my knees, begging him to let me undo his belt buckle and—nope, I won’t allow myself to go there with such naughty thoughts.

He’s off-limits and a thorn in my side. There’s no chance I’ll sleep with the father of the little girl I nanny for—well, little chance. Never say never.

He is hot.

Grumpalicious.

Alphalicious.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“His name is Levi,” the driver says.

“I ought to fire you, Douglas,” Levi grunts.

“But you won’t. We’re too much like family.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters.

I exhale a heavy breath, and for the first time today since boarding the flight, I’m quiet. Amelia wiggles in her car seat and shows me her sparkly unicorn as if I haven’t seen her cuddle the stuffed animal for the past couple of hours.

“Does your friend have a name?” I ask, tapping the unicorn’s nose.

Amelia stares up at me. “Airplane Girl,” she says.

Levi’s head snaps back, watching our interaction. Does he worry that I won’t know how to look after his kid? I’ve been around children my entire life. I worked at a preschool before I got married. I could probably call the director and ask if there are any openings. But the pay was never great, and finding an apartment on minimum wage will be brutal.

“That’s right,” I say, smiling reassuringly. “I’m Clare.”

“Amelia,” the little girl says, pointing at herself.

Levi’s phone buzzes. “What is it, Nancy?”

The fact that he’s talking to a woman has me eavesdropping. Though it’s not like there’s an inch of privacy in the vehicle.

Is Nancy his girlfriend?

Wife?

I didn’t look at his finger to see if he’s married, but if he’s in a committed relationship, wouldn’t she have at least shown up at the airport to welcome the two of them home?

I hope, for his sake, he’s not that serious about Nancy.

“I know I’m late, and I haven’t checked my voicemails. There was an issue at the airport.” He pauses, and I wait for him to elaborate to the caller. “I found someone temporarily to help with Amelia. No thanks to you.”

Ouch. He’s in a pissy mood, although I’m sure I didn’t help. Am I to blame? Probably. Too bad. I’ve already made a mess of things; it can’t get much worse.

While I can’t hear Nancy’s side of the conversation, I get an earful from Levi. “I can’t make it into the office tomorrow or this week. I need to keep an eye on Amelia and get her settled. Email me the details, and when my lawyer contacts you, let him know that he can reach me on my cell phone.”

Lawyer?

Is he planning on suing me for what happened at the airport?

I’m sure we can work out some type of arrangement. I could watch Amelia to make up for the embarrassment and humiliation I caused him. However, I’ve already offered to do that for room and board.

He hangs up testily.