Page 13 of Nanny for the Firefighters
"Who said that?" Theo ruffles his hair and rubs his palms into his eyes with a yawn.
"Albert Einstein."
"Why do smart men always quote other smart men?"
I shrug. "No point in reinventing the wheel."
Inside proves to be as opulent as the outside with the white marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and European tapestries. Richly upholstered furniture hides behind French doors on the left, but on the right, an open room showcases Lily's play area, filled with blankets and toys and a large TV playing a sing-song lullaby.
The sitter huffs and carries a fussy Lily to her father, her cheeks red and whimpers showing her displeasure at being left with the inadequate substitute for her parents.
Marcus sweeps her up in his arms as the young woman rolls her eyes. "I just got her to eat and settle down for cartoons. She's all yours." Slinging a messenger bag over her shoulder, she doesn't quite glare at the little girl, but her expression isn't much better.
"I might need you tonight if you're free."
"Yeah. Sure. At four hundred bucks a night, I'll invest in some military-grade earplugs." She holds her hand out, and Marcus shifts his daughter to one arm to fish out his wallet and pay the girl.
Shaking my head, I slip into the playroom and nab one of Lily's favorite stuffed animals and play with her over the captain's shoulder. Her sweet little giggle makes me smile. I don't understand how so many nannies seem to struggle with her.
Once the sitter leaves, the five of us settle across the three overstuffed couches and take turns making up stories for Lily until the posh gongs of the bell echo through the first floor. Lily scowls and clings to her dad as I hop to my feet to answer the door.
Lily mumbles some gibberish, and I hear Ethan say, "Oh, here we go."
He's right. It's not a good sign.
But when I open the door to Ella, I'm stunned by her beauty—warm brown skin, gleaming dark eyes, full lips, and a riot of curly dark hair pulled sedately back into a low ponytail with a few strands spilling free. She seems all at once put together and comfortably free. A thick, flowing skirt and a colorful tunic enhance her curves.
When her gaze meets mine, I feel rooted in place. Ethan was right. there is something about this woman.
Lily's aggressive ramblings aren't a good sign, but the smirk on Ella's mouth makes my blood pump hard.
Well, this will be interesting, to say the least.
6
ELLA
Standing on the polished steps of what can only be described as a manor—because let's be real, "mansion" doesn't quite do it justice—I clutch my resume like a shield against medieval invaders. I take a moment to breathe in the scent of blooming azaleas lining the walk, their fragrance mingling with the crisp autumn air. It's disarmingly beautiful, much like the man opening the grand front door.
"Hi, you must be Ella," he says, a grin spreading easily across his features. This has to be Will, and if all the firefighters look like him and Ethan, I might need to reassess my life choices.
"Yes, that's me," I reply, stepping through the doorway into a foyer that could comfortably house my entire apartment—twice. My voice echoes slightly off the marble floors and vaulted ceilings, and I fight the urge to check whether my mouth is hanging open.
"Welcome to what we affectionately call ‘The Manor'." Will chuckles, leading me into the heart of the house. The interior is as impressive as the exterior, with sunlight streaming through tall windows and bouncing off tasteful decor. It's the kind of place that makes you want to mind your manners and maybe curtsy.
We pass through a spacious living room where a few other ridiculously good-looking firefighters lounge, looking like they've jumped straight out of a calendar. They each give me a nod and a smile, their casual friendliness doing nothing to calm my nerves.
At the center of this tableau is the smallest yet most formidable presence in the room—Lily. She's perched on a plush rug surrounded by toys, but her big, blue eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that's a little unnerving.
"Hi there, Lily," I say, crouching down to her level. The baby watches me, unblinking, and I brace for the worst—a wail, a scream. Instead, Lily surprises me by reaching out with a chubby hand, a silent invitation that I'm more than happy to accept.
I gently scoop her into my arms, and she settles against me with a contented sigh, her previous scrutiny apparently satisfied. Her weight is familiar and comforting in my arms, reminding me of why I once loved this job so much.
"You're a natural," a deep voice observes from behind me.
Turning around, I find myself looking up—way up—into the kind eyes of Marcus, who I assume is the captain. His presence commands attention, and it's clear he's the glue holding this picturesque scene together.
"Thanks," I manage, hoping my smile looks more confident than I feel. "She's an easy baby to love."