Winning The Nanny's Heart. Shirley Jump

hopped down off the chair and started twirling. Her skirt swung out around her in a rising bell. “I want ballet lessons. Can I have ballet lessons?”

      Ballet lessons. Another thing he’d have to schedule and run to. Libby made a constant argument in favor of the lessons by wearing an old, tattered ballerina dress, a Halloween costume from years ago, pretty much every day. He’d wanted Libby to wear jeans and a T-shirt to school today. Libby had thrown a fit, pitching herself onto the floor and sobbing, saying that Mommy had bought her the ballerina dress and she really wanted to wear it—

      And Sam caved. He’d also caved on letting the kids watch cartoons while they ate, though Bugs Bunny and friends hadn’t exactly inspired anyone to take a single bite yet.

      He glanced at the still untouched waffle on Libby’s plate. “Libby, you need to eat your breakfast so we can get to school and I can get Henry over to the community center.” He had just enough time to give the tutor a quick interview, drop the kids at school by nine and get to his interview at nine fifteen.

      Libby let out a sigh that sounded way too grown-up. “We don’t have school today.”

      “Of course you have school today. It’s Tuesday.”

      Libby shook her head. “Miss McCarthy said we didn’t. There’s some big meeting for the teachers or something.”

      Sam crossed to the fridge, moving menus and notes and drawings around until he finally found the school calendar, tacked in place by a thick magnet. He ran his finger down to today’s date—

      No School. In-Service Teacher Day.

      He started to curse, then stopped himself. Now what was he supposed to do? He pulled out his phone and texted Charity. No school today. Need you ASAP.

      “And Uncle Ty said the community center is closed today. ’Cuz he had to fix the bathroom or something.”

      “There’s no storytime today?” What else could go wrong this morning?

      Libby shrugged. “Can I go play?”

      “Eat your breakfast first.” While I come up with a miracle. He had forty-five minutes until his interview. Forty-five minutes to get Charity over here and interview this new girl for the tutor job.

      Libby shook her head. “I don’t like those waffles. I like the ones...”

      Her voice trailed off, but Sam could fill in the blank himself. She liked the ones her mommy had made, before Mommy had been killed by a drunk driver. The year and a half since then had passed in a blur, with Sam juggling a job and the kids and babysitters and his grief. He’d thought he was doing a good job, until he lost first Mrs. Rey, the best nanny in the world, who had moved to Florida to be with her grandkids, then a few weeks later, his job. He’d tried to step in and do it all, but he wasn’t much good at being two parents in one. Time, he told himself, time fixed everything.

      Except when he was running late. “Libby, you need to eat because I need to—”

      She stopped spinning and crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

      Lately, Libby had mastered defiance. She wasn’t outright disobedient, just enough to add another stress to Sam’s day.

      From his booster seat at the other end of the kitchen table, Henry let out a shriek of support. Sam turned to his son. “Hey, buddy, want to eat breakfast?”

      Henry shook his head.

      “Do you want something else? Just say it, buddy, and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

      Henry stared at his father for one long moment. Sam waited, his heart in his throat. Maybe this time...

      Instead, Henry picked up his waffle and flung it on the floor. Before Sam could react, the golden retriever dashed in and stole a bonus meal.

      That made Libby laugh, while she tossed her waffle at the dog, too. “Get it, Bandit. Get it!”

      “Libby—”

      But she was already gone, tearing off to the living room to snatch up the TV remote and raise the volume to deafening levels. Henry saw his own opportunity for escape, and clambered down from the chair and over to the giant box of Legos that Sam had forgotten to put up on the top shelf. Before Sam could say “don’t touch that,” Henry had knocked it onto the floor, releasing a cavalcade of miniature bricks.

      And then the doorbell rang.

      The dog started barking. Libby started peppering her father with questions about who was there, was it Miss Della, was it the mailman, was it Barney the dinosaur. Sam closed his eyes for a too-brief second, then strode down the hall and pulled open the door.

      One of the most beautiful women Sam had ever seen stared back at him, with big brown doe-like eyes peeking out from under long dark wavy hair. She wore a pencil skirt that hugged her curves, a satiny pink blouse and dark pumps that raised her from what he guessed was a normal height of about five foot three. “Uh, I’m Katie Williams,” she said, while he continued to stare. “I’m here to interview for the tutor position? I’m sorry I’m a few minutes early.”

      The tutor. Of course. Already, he’d forgotten about her appointment. Maybe he was the one who should have eaten his breakfast. Or, for that matter, had a cup of coffee. Thus far, Sam was lucky he’d had enough time to throw on some clothes and brush his teeth. And given that Charity hadn’t responded to his text yet, that meant he still didn’t have anyone to watch Libby, and his interview was in less than forty-five minutes... “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I—” He threw up his hands and gave up trying to formulate any kind of excuse. How did he encapsulate months of feeling overwhelmed into one sentence? “It’s been a morning and a half. Katie Williams—Colton’s little sister, right?”

      “Yes.”

      Which made her probably only a couple years younger than Sam. He didn’t know why that mattered so much, but it suddenly did. “Colton’s a great guy.”

      “Who’s here?” Libby skidded to a stop beside him and poked her head around the door. “Hi. I’m Libby.”

      Katie bent down. “Hi, Libby. I’m Katie.” She raised her gaze and peered at the space behind Sam. “And who’s that?”

      Libby turned. “Oh, that’s my little brother, Henry. He’s shy.”

      Katie wiggled her fingers in Henry’s direction. “Hi, Henry. I’m Katie.”

      Henry stood at the corner for a second longer, then dashed back into the living room. He never uttered a peep. Not that Sam had expected him to. Henry had almost completely stopped talking after his mother died. Sam had taken his son to doctor after doctor, spent hours searching the internet, but the conclusion was the same—Henry would talk when he was ready.

      Lord, how Sam missed the sound of Henry’s voice. The curiosity in the lilting questions he used to ask. Sam’s heart ached, literally ached, for the things he had lost. The things he couldn’t change.

      Libby, the more outgoing of the two kids, just kept looking up at Katie with obvious curiosity. “Do you like dogs?” Libby asked.

      Katie smiled. “I love dogs.”

      One point in favor of Katie Williams. Hopefully, she liked dogs with plenty of puppy energy, because he could feel Bandit nudging past him. Just as Sam reached for the dog’s collar, Bandit leaped, paws landing on Katie’s chest. She stumbled back, and for a long, heart-stopping second, Sam thought she was going to fall down his porch stairs. Visions of hospitals and lawsuits popped into his mind. He reached for her, caught her hand, just as she recovered her balance and swayed forward. But then she overcorrected, and swayed straight into his chest.

      “Oh, God. I’m... I’m sorry,” she said, jerking away from him.

      He knew he should say the same, but for one long second there he hadn’t been sorry at all that she had touched him. Maybe it was because he’d been alone for so long,