The Nanny

5. Paige

"Right, and you would...peck at that?" I raise my eyebrows, hopeful there's a better explanation.

The smile that threatened earlier breaks out across his face, and his teeth are white and straight. Trust me, not only to accidentally employ a male nanny, but to hire one who is undeniably attractive. Rough around the edges, but in the way that most women would love. In college, he's the type of man my girlfriends would call dibs on the minute we caught sight of him.

I always considered myself immune to the charms of guys like him. Inevitably the men my friends fought over were gorgeous, like a Salvador Dali painting, and just as fucked up. In the past, I've gone for men who attended a post-secondary institution and worked in an office building. Athletic, but devoid of raw magnetism. Ashley has found a switch in me I didn't even realize could be flipped.

How am I having these thoughts? About my much younger employee who, even if he wasn't working for me, is clearly emotionally unavailable. At least the second part is on brand.

A fire is starting in my cheeks, but I've learned there's nothing I can do about my tendency to blush. Thinking about it only deepens the color. What must I look like?

"Peckish," he says with the wide grin still present. "Hungry. British for hungry."

Heaven help me, he's even got dimples.

"Yes," I say, and I hate the breathless quality to my voice. "I'm hungry."

"Shall I order a curry?" He's got his phone out of his pocket, and he's already hitting buttons with his thumb.

"Is there anything else?" I ask. "Curry isn't normally something I'd eat."

His features are schooled now, and he closes his phone before sliding it into his pocket. Chloe emerges from his neck, and her fist is back in her mouth. I hope he's washing her hands regularly.

"Ever tried it?" he asks.

"Well, no."

"You're not keen to try something new."

It's a statement, not a question, but it gets the wheels turning in my mind as Joey attempts to smoosh the closed book into my face.

"Read," Joey says.

On instinct, I open the book, but I'm not reading, I'm thinking. When I took the job here, I promised myself I'd immerse us in the culture, really experience this part of the world. For one year, I'd open myself up. If British people eat a lot of curry, then I should at least try it. No harm in having one meal, and if I hate it, I can easily beg off next time.

"I can't tolerate anything spicy," I say.

"Korma, chana masala, and butter chicken. Even pensioners with a bad stomach can handle those."

His reference to old people is not lost on me. Thank you for pointing out our age difference, Ashley. My party like a rockstar years might be over (not that I had many of those, anyway), but that hardly slots me into the geriatric category, even with my food choices.

"You reckon Joey will eat it? I'll order a bit of naan too." He's got his phone out again, and he's working it with his thumb while he balances Chloe.

"Joey eats anything I put in front of him." It's a lie I've told countless times at mommy and me groups, but sometimes it's true. Other nights are a battle of wills. At almost three, Joey has reached the stage where telling me 'no' brings him immense joy.

"Food's ordered," Ashley says, closing his phone. "Do you want me to mind them while you go collect it?"

All the color drains from my face in a rush. I'd never make it there and back without having to call for a tow truck. The short drive would take me hours.