Forbidden Hearts

You can do this, Phoebe. You’re not a little girl anymore. You are a strong, independent woman who has been through the wringer, but that’s okay. It builds character. Watching a kid for the summer may not have been part of the plan, but neither was sleeping with your married professor, and you’re still breathing. Asher Whitlock doesn’t scare you, and you definitely are not into him. Sure, he’s ridiculously hot, but you’re not into hot guys. You know how that turns out. She’s not three, she’s nine and probably won’t want to cut her hair again. You’ll do this for Daddy, get some money, which you desperately need because you had to pull money from your inheritance to get home and . . . you’re a mess.

As I open my eyes to exit the car, I scream when I see Asher standing there, arms crossed as he watches me through the window.

“You scared me!” I yell.

He doesn’t say anything back, just looks at me and . . . dear God. This man is even better looking than I remembered. He’s one of those cops you see on social media whose posts are full of comments like:

He can arrest me any day.

Excuse me, officer, I’ve broken the law. Come find me.

Are handcuffs included in every package?

Yeah, he’s that guy. Tall, dark brown hair that has this slight wave through it, scruff along his chiseled jaw, and eyes that could do a girl in. The different shades of blue almost swirl, and one second, it’s sapphire, and the next, you’re sure it’s aqua.

Anyway, those eyes are trained on me and not in a sexy way.

I roll the window down and try to salvage this so I don’t look ridiculous. “Hey. I’m here.”

“And late.”

I huff. “And not late, thank you. I have five more minutes until I am required to be here, which is fantastic considering I was just told about this an hour ago.”

“This is a mistake.”

My brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

“You have been sitting in your car talking to yourself for the last three minutes. Also, why are you out here?”

“Because you need someone to watch Olivia . . .” Duh.

“I meant the car. Why aren’t you inside, meeting Olivia and preparing? I have to be at the station in ten minutes.”

“You mean the one that’s a whole street over?” I ask, refusing to let him push me around. “How ever will you make it on time? Listen, if you’re late, I’ll call Daddy and ask him to let you off with a warning. Can you scoot so I can get out please?”

He takes two whole steps back, which gives me just enough room to open the door without hitting him.

“As soon as the agency finds a replacement,” Asher mutters.

That’s a relief. I might not have to do this all summer. Thank the Lord. “You know, you could say thank you, considering I’m giving up part of my summer to help you out.”

It’s really hard growing up in a town like this. Every mistake you make is part of the gossip mill, and no matter how small or insignificant it is, you never get to live it down. Sometimes, you can’t even live down the stuff you didn’t actually do either. Like when I took the heat for the senior prank that involved putting food dye in the pool and turning half the swim team blue. Why were the fingers pointed at me? Because no one would think to upset the chief by blaming his daughter when they all want favors. All the time I took the blame and looked ridiculous, and half of it, I didn’t even deserve.

I wasn’t always innocent, like when Asher caught me skinny dipping in Principal Symonds’s pool when she was out of town. That I totally did.

Not like the Whitlock family is without their screwups, but heaven forbid anyone holds a single one of those against them.

My big screwup hasn’t even hit the gossip mill yet, and this is just me paying for being an immature teenager.

“I could, but I won’t.”

My eyes narrow, and I really freaking hate this guy. So, just to be petty, I drop my voice to a deep baritone. “Thank you, Phoebe. You’re really saving my ass by watching my daughter.” Then I go back to my voice. “You’re welcome, Asher. I am so happy to help you when you’re in this bind.”

Not that I had a choice. My father informed me it was this, go back to Iowa, or tell him why I came home. Off to be a nanny it is.

When we head inside, the house is still quiet, but it’s six thirty in the morning, so I’m not surprised. I know I would rather be asleep.

“Where are your bags?”

“What?”

“Bags, you know, clothes, toiletries . . . the essentials.”

I must look ridiculous as I stare at Asher in confusion. “Why would I need a bag? I live down the road.”

“Right, but sometimes my shifts go until two in the morning, and I’m always on call. Plus, we rotate days and nights. You know this.”

“Right, but we live in Sugarloaf,” I remind him. “Which means you never actually get called in because nothing happens. You do know I’m a cop’s daughter, right?”

Asher clenches his jaw. “Did your dad not explain everything?”

He did, but I wasn’t agreeing to those terms. There’s no way I am staying in Asher’s house. Not a chance. I live exactly eleven minutes away.

“There’s no need for me to move in here, especially since this probably won’t last a week. You’ll get your replacement. I’ll go back to my big plans.” Of sitting in bed and regretting my life choices. “All that before I could even unpack.”

“Yes, because nannies who also know ASL are so plentiful in the area. If that were the case, I would have one.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re cheap and won’t pay them what they’re worth.” Seriously, when Daddy told me what the pay was, impressed was not the word I would use.

“I’m not cheap. According to the agency, the pay was extremely fair and people would be lined up.”

“And, yet, here I am.”

“Not a nanny. Let’s not forget I was there when the last kid you babysat almost died.”

I knew it was coming. “Does Olivia have any allergies I should know about?” I ask, sugary sweet.

“No, which is why you’re allowed here.”

I let out a long sigh. “Look, you think I’m irresponsible, and I think you’re a big jerk, but this is the only option you have. I am not sixteen anymore. I’m twenty-four, a college graduate, and am working toward my doctorate in audiology. Okay? I am smart, focused, driven, and I know ASL.”

I am also the opposite of all those things at the moment, but my little speech wouldn’t have been as impactful otherwise.

“Eighteen,” he says.

“What?”

“You were eighteen when Olivia cut her hair.”

“Okay?” I’m not really seeing the point here, but no need to fight about semantics.

“I’m pointing out that you were older than sixteen when you screwed up.”

“I’m really sorry that happened. I explained it a hundred times, but you weren’t hearing me. I promise that won’t happen again.”

He laughs once. “Yes, because she’s not three.”

“And I’m not eighteen. So, look at that, we both grew up some.” This is really getting on my nerves. “I’m doing you a favor, Asher. No need to be a dick about it.”

He sighs loudly, running his hands through his dark hair. “I’m not trying to be a dick. It’s just that Olivia is my world, and I was already hesitant about this agency thing, but Sara was adamant I go through them, so I did. Then the only nanny they have who knows ASL quit, so they suggested I have Livvy write everything down instead of sign. I just . . . I tried to take leave, but your dad needs me since I’m the SWAT leader for the county. You’re right, neither of you are little anymore, it’s been six years, and you have managed to make it through college without any major fuckups.”

I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m not about to offer up my errors. “Thanks.”

He smiles softly, and those damn eyes are all molten lava as they stare at me. For a second, I forget this is Asher Whitlock—my father’s employee and a big jerk who hates me—and only see every woman’s dream. He’s a hot, older, freaking SWAT leader, who has his life together, and did I mention hot? Too bad he’s also a huge grump.