Why does he have to cause so much trouble?
He’s always been like this. When he was a baby, he cried endlessly. When he could crawl, he kept trying to get out of his crib and crawl all over the place, putting whatever he could reach inside his mouth. Then he kept getting into accidents – a bump here, a bruise there, a trip to the emergency room for stitches. Then he became a toddler and he’d constantly run around like a car that never ran out of fuel, like a tornado that knocked everything out of its path. Of course, there were more accidents. Then came the tantrums – the wailing and stomping of feet and throwing toys that lasted for hours. That was replaced by the sulks. And then he just started getting into mischief, whether at school or at home. Just simple pranks, really, usually harmless. Still, he is such a troublemaker.
Like I told Mrs. Fisher, not having a mother must have something to do with it but sometimes, I wonder if that’s really the reason. Maybe it’s just his personality. Some kids really are difficult, after all. Maybe my kid happened to belong to the bunch. Or maybe I’m being punished for giving my parents such a hard time.
Whatever the reason, all this troublemaking has to end before it drives me crazy. I was actually hoping the new nanny could help. Of course, she can’t help him unless she meets him and she can’t do that unless he comes out of hiding.
I look under the bed. Nothing.
As I lay crouched there, Zombie comes to me, looking at me curiously.
“I know, I know. I look stupid,” I tell him.
He cocks his head to one side.
I swear the dog can sometimes understand me.
“Where’s David, huh? Why don’t you go find him? If you do, I’ll give you a treat.”
Zombie just looks at me.
All right. So maybe this isn’t one of the times he understands me or maybe he’s just loyal to David and doesn’t want to betray him. Or maybe he’s just lazy.
I get up. “I should have gotten David a German Shepherd or a bloodhound.”
Zombie just looks at me as he rolls over, baring his tummy.
“No,” I tell him. “No belly rub for you. And no dinner, either, until your master is found.”
I leave the room, pausing in the hallway.
“David!”
Still no answer.
I scratch my head. Where can he be hiding? If I want to find him, I have to think like a kid. I have to think like David.
If I were David, where would I hide?
Suddenly, the answer dawns on me – the pantry. If I was going to stay somewhere indefinitely, it would be somewhere comfortable, somewhere spacious. And it would have food so I could just eat if I got hungry.
And for all his adventures, David happens to have a big appetite.
I go down the stairs and to the kitchen, heading to the pantry. Sure enough, he’s there beneath the last shelf, behind a row of canned meat and beside some bottles of condiments.
“David.” I put my hands on my hips.
He laughs, toppling some cans of meat as he crawls out of hiding. “You had a hard time finding me, didn’t you? I thought no one would ever find me.”
“It’s not funny, David.”
I reach for his arm but he eludes me. “You might have found me but you still have to catch me!”
“David!”
Oh, no, you’re not getting away.
I chase after him, grabbing him in the living room.
“David, you are in serious trouble.” I lift a finger at him. “You made us all worry and wasted our time looking for you.”
“I didn’t tell you to look for me,” David answers back.
“Why, you—”
“You found him?” an unfamiliar voice interrupts from behind me.
No, it’s familiar. I just can’t say whose voice it is.
I turn my head to find out and as I do, my eyes grow wide. Hers do the same – her mesmerizing black eyes that I thought I’d never gaze into again.
“You?”
Rules
Sabrina
Shit, it’s him. Mr. Gladiator. Mr. Muscles. That guy I bumped into at the mall.
There’s no mistaking it. Not that voice or that face or that build. Heck, he’s even wearing the same long-sleeved black shirt and faded jeans.
It is him.
Wait. Does this mean he’s… my boss?
“What are you doing here?” he asks with narrowed eyes.
“Forgive me, sir, but I was the one who let her in,” Lucy says. “She said she’s the new nanny so I told her to wait in the library while we find David.”
I lower my gaze. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour and there was such a commotion that I thought I’d check things out. Sorry.”
“You are the new nanny?”
I nod then take a deep breath before stepping forward, extending my arm. “Sabrina James from Stargazers Child Services.”
“Nice to meet you, Sabrina.” He shakes my hand. “I’m Randall Brewster.”
I nod. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Brewster. I’ll be your nanny from now on.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I mean your son’s nanny,” I correct, trying not to blush.
Randall turns to the boy next to him. “This is David, my son.”
I offer him my hand as well, bending over. “Hello, David.”
David doesn’t answer or even look at me.
“David?” Randall squeezes his shoulder.
“Hello,” he mumbles, then looks at his father. “Can I go to my room now?”
Randall looks at one of the maids. “Lucy, bring David to his room. Make sure he stays there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lucy leads the boy up the stairs. Halfway up, he glances over his shoulder at me, glaring.
Oh, boy. He sure is a difficult one. Still, nothing I can’t handle.
“Sabrina?” Randall says.
“Yes?” I look at him.
Now, this one I’m not sure I can handle. In fact, I still can’t believe he’s the new client, my new boss. Thank goodness I didn’t behave badly earlier. Or did I?
“I guess we need to talk. Come with me.”
I follow him down the hall to a room that has bookshelves, filing cabinets and a large, mahogany desk in the middle, a black leather chair behind it.
His office.
I can see other things as well, like the trophies on the shelf, some for his company and some for weightlifting. So, he really is a weightlifter. I see a picture of him lifting a barbell on the wall, too, which looks like it’s a magazine cover that’s been framed. Beside it are other pictures, one of him in a suit, where he looks incredibly hot, one of him with David, taken years earlier and another with his wife, taken even before that. Carol said he’s a widower, his wife having died giving birth to David.
So, he’s a successful businessman, a former professional weightlifter and he’s a single dad, too.
A hot single dad. “Please sit down.” Randall gestures to one of the two other chairs in front of his desk.
I take a deep breath as I take the one on the right, telling myself to calm down.
Remember, Sabrina. He’s your boss.
Right. I should start being more professional. In fact, I should probably apologize for my casual behavior earlier.
“Mr. Brewster…”
“Please call me Randall,” he tells me.
My eyes grow wide. What?
“When it’s just you and me, you can call me Randall.”
“But…”
“After all, I’d like us to be friends.”