Page 14 of His Surrender

“I’ll be right back,” he says, his gaze lingering on his daughter for another second.

Then his blue eyes meet mine. “This way.”

I follow him down a hallway and into a home office nearly as big as my parents’ entire first floor. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line one wall while massive windows frame the Manhattan skyline. A sleek wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, though it looks nothing like I’d expect from someone as successful as Dean.

A stack of parenting books sits beside an open laptop while an empty baby bottle rests on a coaster. A burp cloth hangs over the back of his desk chair.

He catches me looking and lets out a quiet breath. “I’ve stopped pretending I have my life together.”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“It seemed easier than faking it at this point.” He gestures toward one of the leather chairs. “Have a seat.”

I smooth my blouse before sitting down and folding my hands together in my lap so he doesn’t notice how badly I want to fidget.

Dean remains standing for a moment, staring out the window, as if gathering his thoughts. Finally, he circles the desk and lowers himself into the chair across from me.

“I’ll be honest.” He rests his forearms on the desk, his fingers loosely intertwined. “This isn’t how I expected to hire a nanny.”

“I’ll be honest too.”

One corner of his mouth lifts.

“I didn’t expect to interview to become one.”

The hint of a smile that appeared is gone almost as quickly as it came.

“So”—he studies me for a long moment— “why are you here?”

The question catches me off guard. “My dad asked if I’d meet with you.”

Dean slowly shakes his head. “That’s not what I asked.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks.

“I …” I look down for a second before forcing myself to meet his eyes again. “I need a job.”

“Any job?” His tone isn’t judgmental, but definitely curious.

“No.” I straighten in my chair. “I need an opportunity.”

He leans back slightly, waiting for me to continue.

“I spent four years earning a degree. I fully intend to build a career with it.” I shrug. “But until someone gives me that chance … I still have bills to pay.”

“So, this is temporary.”

I nod. “Yes.”

His eyes remain on mine for another beat before he gives a slow nod of his own. “Thank you for being forthcoming.”

Silence settles between us and I try not to show just how nervous I feel.

He clears his throat. “My daughter is two months old.”

“My father told me.”

“I found out she existed eight days ago,” he says so matter-of-factly, but I can hear the exhaustion hiding underneath.