“I noticed.” A smile ghosts his lips, and I once again get lost in thoughts of how kissable they look. “Anyway, I didn’t come here for an apology. Would you come with me? I want to show you something.”
Max steps back, and I frown curiously as I slide my feet into my flip-flops and follow him through the yard and around the house toward the five-stall garage sitting open. He opens a door that leads into a closed-off area of the garage that looks like a little man cave. He steps back and gestures to a large workbench that’s ridiculously organized with a pegboard above and a million different tools mounted.
“Before I started my own company, I used to do construction with my dad. A lot of carpentry work and such. Anyway, I don’t do much of that anymore, but I still have all this stuff.”
“Okay…” I respond in confusion, looking around at the power tools tucked under the bench.
“You can use it,” Max adds crisply. “For your…charcuterie boards.”
“Seriously?” I turn and eye the space with renewed interest.
“It’s just sitting here collecting dust, so somebody might as well make good use of it. You can use this as your personal workshop or whatever. It’s temperature controlled over here.” He taps on a device on the wall, and a digital screen pops up. He then hands me a garage door opener. “You can keep this to get in and out without having to come through the house.”
I hold the clicker in my hand, my eyes blinking back the shock that’s taking over my entire body. “Wow…this is…really thoughtful, Max.”
“It’s nothing,” he replies and moves to stand awkwardly in the doorway. He slides his hands into his jean pockets. “If you need wood, there are some scrap pieces on the lower shelf, but several hunks of trees that can be chopped into lumber are also down by the beach. I just haven’t gotten around to chopping them yet. Just let me know how you like it, and I can help you out with that.”
“You…chop your own wood?” I ask, my mouth suddenly very parched as I imagine him shirtless and glistening with sweat as he grunts through each swing of an axe.
Fuck, that’s a hot image.
Max crosses his muscular forearms and leans against the door. “I do a lot of things on my own, Cozy.”
My body hums to life with his use of my nickname. There’s something about when he uses it that makes me forget all about the fact that he’s a corporate, suit-wearing, power-hungry workaholic who represents the opposite of all I want out of life.
Before he turns to leave, I inhale sharply and say, “Hey…you never had your turn.”
“What turn?” he asks, staring curiously back at me.
“The two truths and a lie.” My smile feels wobbly as he tilts his head and eyes me with such fierce determination that I think I need to sit down. I lean on the workbench and feign curiosity while wondering if I’m imagining his eyes roving down my body. “Let’s hear it.”
“Okay…let me think.” His brows quirk as he reaches above his head and braces his hands on the top of the doorframe, showing off a sliver of skin on his waist that reveals the deep lines of his hip bones disappearing into his denim. “I graduated summa cum laude. My ex-wife left me for another woman. And I hate anchovies.”
I laugh at his horrible lie. Honestly, he’s terrible at this game. The man is a millionaire, so clearly very smart, and everyone hates anchovies. My eyes drink in his impossibly perfect body, and I reply, “Your ex is straight, so that’s the lie.” Though how she left him, I’ll never understand.
He smirks knowingly and clicks his tongue. “I never graduated summa cum laude. In fact, I barely graduated college at all.” He winks and taps the frame of the door before disappearing into the garage, leaving me alone in my workshop with a whole lot of wood.
By the end of week two, Everly and I are full-on simpatico. We have perfected the art of sitting, the art of laying, and the art of dancing to Kidz Bop Radio on the deck after lunch. We’ve even successfully navigated the swimming pool three times. Although it should be noted that a life preserver magically appeared beside the pool on Monday morning that I have no doubt was left behind by an overprotective father. I keep it close by just to be safe.
I even got to meet a few other nannies who are watching some of Everly’s private school friends when we all met up for the monthly book club. The kids honored me with the label of “top tier nanny” because I made up a themed charcuterie board to share with everyone. I just took notes from Everly’s book report on 11 Before 12 and filled the board with things pre-teens would love. Ring pops to represent boy crazy thoughts, gummy bears to represent helping the environment, and friendship bracelets to remind them all that despite going into middle school next year, their gal pals are their most important allies. Everly helped me shop for all the supplies, and we had a fabulous time assembling it all. I chuckle to myself when I consider what I might use for a Mercedes Lee Loveletter-inspired board.
Mostly, I was just excited to use the new board I had just made. The workshop Max gave me has twice the supplies that I had in my sister’s garage. And when I found a random scrap of maple that was probably meant for some luxury cabinets, I knew I could get it done relatively quick. Everly even helped apply the food-safe wood wax at the end. Our summer of willy-nilly was off to a great start for sure.
I worried that Max would work from home again after our tense barbecue moment on Friday night. But I think gifting me the workshop was his idea of a peace offering and to show me that despite leaving things off my résumé, he did trust me.
In fact, I’ve barely seen him this entire week. He sent me a text and asked if I could be in the house by six o’clock every morning this week so he could get to the office early. I’d barely catch a glimpse of his perfectly tailored suit before he hightailed it out the door. When he’d come home, he barely made eye contact with me, directing all his attention on Everly.
Rightfully so.
I don’t know why I’d want him to look at me anyway. It seems the more I’m around him, the more questions he asks, and that’s not really a box I care to open with my new boss.
So instead, I text him updates and photos of Everly throughout the day—what we get up to and how Everly’s mood seems. It’s usually nothing exciting or groundbreaking. That would go against our “do less” summer motto. But I think that if I had to leave my daughter every day for work, I’d love to see glimpses of her throughout the day. Even if it’s just a picture of her reading a book by the creek. It’s got to be a healthy dose of serotonin that a full day of the corporate grind requires. Who needs kombucha when you have an adorable blond daughter who looks like literal sunshine?
Also, a side benefit of texting Max all day is that I don’t have to have a face-to-face recap with him when he gets home at night. My lusting over him hasn’t improved, even after his grumpy, prying questions at the firepit. In fact, I think I like the pushy side of Max Fletcher. More than I should.
Finally, it’s Friday, and Everly and I are seated by the creek with our feet in the sand and our nose in our books. It’s heavenly. I can’t believe I’m getting paid to hang out with a cool kid all summer. This couldn’t be more perfect. I glance at the time on my phone.