The Nanny with the Skull Tattoos (4 page)

Nodding, he led the way out of the coffee shop, his mind whirling. Those weren’t just brand names. They were high fashion. He didn’t have any sisters, but his brothers’ wives and girlfriends all went crazy for those things. His oldest brothers complained all of the time about their wives’ spending habits, and how they were glad they had gone into the family law business.

“Have a great day,” the barista called after them. Max pushed open the door and stepped outside, Chloe nestled in his arms. Cold wind gusted at them, and he bent his head against it, surging forward. He didn’t check to see if Savannah followed, but he heard the door close behind them.

“I’m parked over there,” Savannah said. He turned and saw her jerk a thumb toward the rest of the parking lot. “Where are you?”

He nodded at the Taurus, cheeks blazing despite the cold. He wondered what kind of car she drove. It would be ironic if, after he had judged her tattoos, he ended up looking like trash. With numb fingers, he pulled his car keys out of his pocket.

“I’ll come up behind you and follow you out,” she called, turning and walking in the opposite direction.

He grunted and opened the door to the back seat. Strapping Chloe in as quickly as possible, he planted a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. Then he jogged around to the other side of the car. He hopped in and started it. Cold air blasted from the heater vents. He shivered and turned the knob down, wondering how long it would take for Savannah’s car to warm up. She probably had a Lexus or BMW, with heated leather seats.

It served him right. Still, he wondered what someone with so much money was doing, basically babysitting for a living. Even though she would be living with him, he wouldn’t be paying her enough to finance a luxury car. Clutching the steering wheel, he grimaced as a grisly thought entered his mind. Maybe she sold children’s organs on the black market. He had heard that kidneys were actually pretty expensive.

Closing his eyes, he shook the thoughts away. He needed to stop. He was acting like some worrywart old grandmother. His brothers would call him an overprotective sissy, and Riley would say that his concern for his daughter was gross. He needed to not be gross, especially if a woman who wore Versace was going to live with him.

A dark car pulled up behind him and flashed its lights. In the rearview mirror, he couldn’t tell what make or model it was, but it was definitely Savannah. The air spewing from his car’s vents was still far from warm, but he didn’t want her to think that his car was a piece of crap—even if it kind of was.

He pulled out of his parking spot and inched his way to the exit. Savannah stayed right behind him. She probably wouldn’t have a problem following.

A thought occurred to him. He could just speed off and lose her. Then he would never have to see her again. It wouldn’t matter who she was or why she had so many tattoos. He could quit school, find a nine to five job at a bank or something, and put Chloe in daycare.

He didn’t want to be that kind of father, though, even if plenty of people put their kids in school at a young age. From the day she was born, he had promised her that he would take care of her. Even if she had a live-in nanny, he would still spend more time with her than if she were in school all day.

Pulling out into the street, he headed toward the grocery store. He kept his speed five miles per hour below the speed limit, ensuring that Savannah kept up. The dark car stayed behind him, albeit at a safe distance. At least she was a good driver.

A few minutes later, he pulled into a parking spot in front of the grocery store. Savannah slid into the spot next to him. Shutting the engine off, he opened his door and got out. Savannah got out, too. As he headed toward Chloe’s door, he saw Savannah following him out of the corner of his eye. Her hand reached toward the handle.

“I’ve got it,” he said, lifting a hand.

“No problem,” she said, hanging back.

He opened Chloe’s door and unstrapped her. Lifting her into his arms, he rested his cheek against her head for a moment. Then, remembering their mission, he headed toward the grocery store.

Inside, he chose a cart and slid her into the seat. She kicked her legs against the metal, her shoes clanging. Max wrapped his fingers around the bar and began to push her toward the produce section.

“How are you supposed to test me,” Savannah called behind him, “if you’re pushing her?”

He paused, heat creeping up the back of his neck. He
was
being a tad overprotective. “Habit,” he said, stepping away from the cart. Swallowing hard, he watched as Savannah took control. She rolled the cart slowly, letting him lead the way. As they neared the fruits and vegetables, he prayed that he hadn’t made a huge mistake. Kids were taken all of the time.

“So what do you need to get?” Savannah asked, gently tucking Chloe’s arm away from a shelf of apples.

He blinked. He didn’t exactly have a list. He cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “what do you like?”

Her lips parted in a little O, and he realized that they were full, pink and soft looking. For a second, he wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. Heat flushed his cheeks, and he looked away, busying himself with selecting apples.

“Are apples okay?” he asked, ducking his head down.

“Sure,” she said. The scent of her perfume wafted his way again, and he felt himself get a little lightheaded. Great. On top of worrying about her tattoos and potential involvement with a cult of nannies or the black market, he was attracted to her.

He filled a bag with some apples and tossed them into the cart, already moving into the next aisle. “Chloe
loves
bananas,” he said, picking up two bunches. “She’ll eat them all day if you let her.”

“Noted,” Savannah said, wheeling Chloe up behind him. “What doesn’t she like?”

“Big raviolis,” he said, turning back to them. Savannah cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. “She likes the mini ones,” he explained.

Snorting, Savannah tapped Chloe’s nose lightly. “So no big ones,” she said. “Got it.”

Max hesitated, and rubbed at the back of his neck. The conversation somehow sounded suggestive, even though it had all been innocent. Clearing his throat, he moved away from the produce aisle, heading toward the rest of the store. “I just need bread and milk,” he said, visualizing his refrigerator. “If there’s anything you want, just grab it.”

“Okay,” Savannah said behind him. He heard the squeak of the cart and Chloe babbling to herself. Then, Savannah started singing. Her voice was soft and sweet, and although he didn’t understand the words, warmth pooled through his body. His shoulders relaxed a bit.

The rest of the shopping trip went smoothly. Savannah kept Chloe from grabbing random things off shelves and hurling them to the floor. She only selected a few things for herself: a bag of rice, two cans of black beans, a package of boned pork, and some Adobo.

“I like to cook,” she said with a shrug.

By the time they loaded everything into Max’s car, Chloe had fallen asleep. He tucked her into her seat, her head drooping against the pillowed fabric. Then he turned to Savannah, the address for his apartment dancing on his lips. He knew it was stupid to judge a person just from one shopping trip, but so far, she seemed like a good fit. Chloe really liked her, too.

He just hoped that they could all live together.

Sunlight filtered in through the open blinds. Outside, the street was cold and quiet. No snow covered the ground, but the chill in the air promised more to come. Max paced the living room. Chloe watched from her spot on the floor, a toy clutched in her hand. Every time he reached his desk, he looked at the time. Savannah would arrive at any moment. He turned away from his desk and padded toward the windows, eyes scanning the street outside for any sign of her car. He had no idea whether she would be arriving with a rental truck or if she was coming with as little as he had moved in with.

He wished he could have cleaned up a bit more. He still didn’t have any cleaning supplies, and no vacuum. The place had seemed all right when he moved in, but now that a woman other than Riley was coming over, he felt as if every speck of dust and dirt stood out.

Running his hands through his hair, he turned and started yet another circuit of the room. A few days after their trial run at the grocery store, Savannah watched Chloe for a few hours while he picked up an extra shift. When Max got home, Chloe was sitting next to Savannah on the couch, listening intently while Savannah read her a story. His lips lifted at the memory.

As he neared his desk, his phone went off. Quickening his pace, he snatched the phone up, pressing the answer button without even looking at the screen.

“Hey,” he said, heart knocking in his throat. He struggled to keep his voice calm. “Did you get lost?”

Riley snorted. “I’m not lost, you dipshit.”

Max’s jaw clenched. “I thought you were Savannah,” he said.

“Your internet advertisement nanny?” Riley laughed. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Knock it off,” he told her, perching on his desk chair. He turned toward the window. A dark car rolled by, but didn’t slow. “She seems really nice.”

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this,” Riley said. “Have you lost your mind?”

Max sighed. “You could have moved in. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Riley said, “put her in daycare, like every other modern parent. Who the hell lets a stranger move in and take care of their kid? What is this, the medieval days?”

“Chloe really likes her,” he said, glancing down at his daughter. “She’s seen Savannah more times this week than her own mother has seen her.” He looked out the window again. A delivery truck rumbled down the street. The logo on its side read Como Bakery. He tore his gaze away from the window, and wiped sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Well, duh,” Riley said. “
Everyone
sees Chloe more than Nikki does. Speaking of your track record, don’t you think Chloe’s a little young for this?”

Max frowned. “What are you getting at, Riley?”

“Come on, Max. I’m not stupid. Why else would you hire a female nanny and have her move in?”

Clenching his jaw, Max stood from his seat. “It’s not like that.”

“And what kind of girl moves in with a strange guy?” Riley continued. “Didn’t you say she has a bunch of skull tattoos? Seems kinda weird to me.”

Knuckles rapped gently at the door. Max’s eyes flicked to the window. Savannah’s BMW sat out front. His eyes widened. “I’ve gotta go, Riley,” he said.

She snorted. “Why, is she there?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Give it a rest.”

“Max, I know you’re in a crappy position, but you should really rethink this. Do you seriously want some strange woman living in your house? You don’t know anything about her.”

The doorbell rang. Chloe pulled herself to her feet, a chubby finger pointing in the direction of the door. “Daddy,” she said.

“What do you want me to do, Riley? My brothers won’t help me. My parents won’t watch her. You won’t move in with me. I have no choice here.” He crossed the room to the door. He wrapped his fingers around the knob. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and hung up before she could say anything else. Turning the door knob, he pulled the door open.

A gust of cool air raced in. Savannah’s scarf blew against her cheek. She carried a single large box, her car keys clutched in one gloved hand. She smiled, her cheeks rosy from the cold.

“You didn’t have to ring the bell. This is your place now, too,” he said, reaching for the box.

“I’ve got it,” she said, tightening her grip around it.

Max ran a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he said, moving aside to let her in. She eased past him, and he closed the door. “So, welcome.” He spread his arms. “It’s not much.”

A soft smile danced on Savannah’s full lips. “It’s home,” she said, lifting a shoulder. Her eyes were a deep pool of warm brown, pulling him in.

Clearing his throat, he looked away. Gesturing toward the hall, he said, “Let me show you your room.” He led her down the short hall to a door on the right. Turning the knob, he pushed the door open. A square of sunlight decorated the carpet. Stepping aside to let her in, Max gestured for her to go ahead.

She moved past him, the scent of her perfume tickling his nostrils. She set the box down in a corner. “Thanks,” she said.

“Anything else coming in?” he asked, glancing at the box. No label marked its contents. Packing tape held it closed. Its corners were dented, and a scuff marred one side.

Savannah shook her head. “Just this for now.”

“You don’t have a bed?” he asked. Eyes widening, he lifted a hand. “Not that I’m suggesting we share, or anything,” he said, thinking of what Riley had said.

Savannah lifted an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you were,” she said, the corner of her mouth curling. “I’ll get one at some point.”

Despite the cold outside, the back of his neck bristled with sweat. He nodded and stepped out of the room to give her some privacy. “I was thinking about ordering some pizza for dinner,” he called over his shoulder. “Do you want any specific topping?”

“Pizza?” she repeated dubiously.

He turned. Savannah stood with a hand on one hip, an eyebrow raised at him. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Why not?”

“You’ve got a baby, and you’re gonna feed her pizza?” She clucked her tongue. Moving past him, she padded toward the kitchen. Bewildered, Max followed her, the scent of her perfume teasing his nostrils. He found her stooped in front of his refrigerator, the door propped open by one leg. She slid items around, mumbling to herself.

Max held up a finger, then dropped his arm to his side. Maybe Riley was right. He didn’t know anything about Savannah. She had moved in without asking any questions, and hadn’t brought any furniture with him. “Yeah, so, listen,” he began.

She backed out of the refrigerator, balancing a stack of food. Max saw a package of chicken, American cheese squares, and the gallon of milk. Savannah carried everything to the counter and set it down. Digging a hand into her pocket, she pulled out a twenty dollar bill. Her lips moved, and her voice tumbled out, but he didn't understand a word that she said.

He squinted at her and rubbed his ears, wondering if he had somehow hit his head. “What?”

Savannah blinked at him. “You don’t speak Spanish?” Both of her hands were planted firmly on her hips. She frowned, but the dimples in her cheeks were still visible.

“No,” Max said. “Why would I?”

She smacked her forehead lightly and fired off something that sounded like a cross between admonishment and pity. Pacing back and forth, the words continued to spill from her mouth. Max had no idea what she said, but it was starting to look like Riley might be right.

“Are you okay?” he asked, glancing at the entryway to the kitchen. Chloe still played in the living room.

Savannah rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? Isn’t your last name Batista?”

“Yeah. So?” He crossed his arms.

“And you don’t speak Spanish?” She threw her hands up in the air. “How can that be?”

Max rubbed the back of his neck and shifted. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just never learned.”

“Your parents didn’t speak Spanish to you?” She put her hands on her hips again, frowning at him.

“No,” he said slowly. “Why would they have?”

Savannah scowled. “Are you kidding me?” She pointed a finger at him. “Where is your family from?”

Max raised an eyebrow at her. “Waterbury,” he said.

“No, ding dong. Where are they
from
? Like, where did your grandparents come from?” She leaned against the counter, her arms crossed. Dark, silky black hair hung over her shoulders.

He licked his lips, trying to think. All four of his grandparents had passed away years earlier. He didn’t really know much about them. He had never thought about it very much before. The last real memory he had of them was going to church on Christmas. It had happened long before Chloe was born, before he had even started high school. “New York, I think,” he said finally.

“All of them came from New York?” Savannah asked, an eyebrow raised. She rolled her eyes. “They just appeared there one day, right?”

“No,” he said, crossing his own arms. “They died when I was a kid. What does that have to do with anything?”

She blew her long bangs into the air, making a motorcycle sound with her lips. Muttering something under her breath, she shook her head. “Where did they live before they came to the States?”

Max frowned at her. “Puerto Rico,” he said with a shrug.

“So,” she said, taking a step toward him. “You’re Puerto Rican, and you don’t even speak Spanish?”

Glancing at the door again, he took a step back. “Nope,” he said.

“Are you kidding me?” she said again, throwing her hands up. She took another step toward him. “You never even wanted to learn?”

“Jeez,” he said, holding his hands up. “It’s not that big a deal.”

Her large brown eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. Then, she erupted. “Not a big deal? Are you serious?” Lapsing into Spanish, she fired off a string of what he could only assume were curses. Instead of being terrified, like he probably should have been, though, he only felt slightly turned on.

He grinned.

“Why are you smiling at me?” she snapped.

“Because,” he said. “You’re kind of cute when you’re cussing me out in Spanish.”

Howling in frustration, she stomped past him, the twenty dollar bill still clutched in her hand. He watched as she stormed through the living room. A moment later, the door slammed behind her.

Blinking, he stared after her. He hoped that she was coming back. Maybe that was crazy. He should probably be calling the police, or at least calling his parents to see what they thought he should do. “Screw that,” he told the empty kitchen. The last person he was going to call was his mother. Leaving the kitchen, he trotted into the living room. Chloe stood against the window, staring into the street.

“Nana,” she said, turning to Max and pointing out the window.

He scooped her up and smoothed her hair. “Yeah, I know. She’ll be back.” He carried her to the couch. The scent of Savannah’s perfume lingered in the room. He hoped that she wore it every day. Shaking his head at himself, he cuddled Chloe to his chest. The last thing he needed to be worrying about was a woman. Savannah was his roommate and Chloe’s nanny. He needed to remember that and to keep things professional. Planting a kiss on Chloe’s forehead, he watched as a smile broke out across his daughter’s face.

He glanced at the window. “Did you see Savannah?” he asked the little girl. She shook her head. Max shrugged. Sometimes, little kids were just weird. Then, as the scent of rotten eggs hit his nostrils, he gagged. Pulling Chloe away from his chest, he lay her down on the couch. Then he got up and practically ran into her room to retrieve wipes and diapers, his daydream broken.

Just as he finished re-dressing Chloe, the front door opened. Savannah stepped inside, cold air swirling in after her. She clutched two plastic bags in her hands. A grin broke out across her face. Max lifted an eyebrow at her.

“What’s all that?” he asked.

“Dinner,” she replied, moving inside. She closed the door behind her and padded back into the kitchen.

Max remained on the floor next to Chloe, her dirty diaper rolled up into a football-shaped wad. Climbing to his feet, he held the diaper out in front of him. He walked into the kitchen after Savannah. He tossed the diaper into the empty box serving as a garbage and watched as she danced around the kitchen. Her coat sat in a pool on the floor. She pulled a knife from the drawer. Turning one of the plastic bags upside down, she poured out a package of shredded cheddar, a tomato, onion, green and yellow peppers, and what looked like a jalapeño.

“What are you making?” he asked, as she began dicing the tomato.

“Chicken enchiladas suiza,” she replied. The blade in her hands blurred as she sliced faster. Max watched, eyes wide in awe. He had never seen anyone cut something so fast before, outside of a Food Network show.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Savannah froze, the knife mid slice. “You’ve never had enchiladas?”

He shook his head.

She put her free hand on her hip. “Have you at least had a taco?”

“Of course,” he said. “We always had to buy like four of the kits. My mom said my brothers were like locusts.”

Savannah paled. She sagged against the counter, the knife clattering into the sink. “Taco kits?” she repeated weakly.

“Yeah,” Max said. “Like the ones that come with the shells and the sauce? You just have to buy the meat and cheese.”

“
Ay, dios mio
,” she said. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her long hair into a bun on top of her head. Max watched as the light from the ceiling lanced off her hair. “You sit back, and let me handle this.”

Shrugging, Max leaned against the wall opposite her. She got back to work, cubing the rest of the vegetables. “Where did you get all this, anyway?” he asked as she turned the stove on low.

Muttering something in Spanish under her breath, she shook her head at him. “The bodega across the street. Are you blind?”

He blushed, and folded his arms across his chest. “Isn’t that just like chips and candy?”

“No, dude, they have a whole market in there. Are you an alien?” She pushed up the sleeves of her shirt, revealing the tattoos on her arm. The skulls danced across her skin as her muscles moved. Max stared. Rolling her eyes, Savannah turned away from him. She drizzled oil into the pan.