Page 2 of Big Trouble

“Oookay,” I draw out the word, putting together the pieces of this rapidly unfolding puzzle. “I might have picked up on that subtle undercurrent of testosterone-fueled disappointment.”

“I thought⁠—”

“That I had a penis?” I don’t give him a chance to respond before I add, “I’d say I get that a lot, but honestly, this has never happened before.”

“What kind of woman is named Winslow?” the man growls.

I stare at his angry, glowering, and yet still stupidly handsome face.

“You’d have to ask my parents. I’m told it’s because they’d been assured I was a boy and had already settled on the name,” I explain.

He just stares at me as if the words I’ve said are gibberish. “I hired a male nanny.”

“You thought you hired a male nanny. As you can tell, I am very much a woman.”

His gaze drops as he takes in my generous curves.

He growls, and I’m a little worried about that vein that’s bulging on his forehead.

“You cannot actually fire me for not being a man. That’s sexism, which I’m sure you realize is illegal,” I say.

“This is not a corporation we’re talking about. This is my home and my daughter.”

“Yes. You have a lovely home. Your adorable and, might I add, very smart daughter gave me a tour earlier.”

He jabs a finger at his own chest. “I get to decide who lives here and takes care of her.”

“Of course you do. You just cannot fire me based on the fact that I have a vagina rather than a penis. I already signed a contract. Are there some sort of tasks that require the Y-chromosome?”

I stare at the hulking man in front of me. He’s practically vibrating with anger, yet I feel zero fear being in his presence. Even though I’m sure much of that anger is directed at me, he doesn’t make me feel unsafe.

He’s impossibly tall and broad. The term ‘as big as a side of a barn’ comes to mind. There’s nothing particularly unique about his brown hair. But the brown beard he sports does nothing to hide the fact that his jawline is masculine perfection. Like God carved it by hand on a day when He was feeling particularly generous. And I can tell from the amount of glaring he does, that his jaw muscles are ones he works out on a regular basis.

He’s like part cowboy, part mountain man. Wranglers mold to his thighs like they are stretched beyond reason to encompass his thick, thick legs. I’m dying to see what they do for his booty, but I obviously am not going there. Like I said, everyone knows you don’t date your boss. Nor should you ogle said boss’s tushy.

The black t-shirt is barely containing his massive shoulders and boulder-sized biceps. This man is legit enormous. I wish I could say that his grumpy face made me find him repulsive, but alas, that is not the case.

He’s rudely hot.

“This is not going to work,” he says with a defiant shake of his head.

Before I can respond, he stomps past me.

He pauses at the office door and snaps, without looking back at me, “I want you gone by the time I get back.”

A moment later, I hear the front door slam.

I sink into one of the nearby armchairs. No, no, no, no, no, no.

“I can not lose this job,” I mutter, burying my head in my hands, only to sit bolt upright when I see a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. “Clementine?” I ask. “Is that you?”

A blur of red hair dashes across the room and hits me square in the chest as she throws herself into my arms.

“He can’t fire you!” she screeches. “He always fires the nannies, and it’s not fair. You didn’t buy any animals or accidentally fall asleep in his bed or steal his pickles or anything!”

I wrap my arms around her, patting her back. “Don’t worry, Clem. I’m not going anywhere.”

I was already prepared to fight for this job, because it’s perfect for me, and I need it, and I’m too tall to sleep in my Focus! But now?