Page 44

And it seems he wants some work while he sees if the position at Luxton works out—which if this goes well, and I have anything to say about it, it will.

As I see his gaze shift to the other side of the room, to the boys who are quietly drawing, I feel the need to shift on my seat. He seems to relax at the sight of them, or maybe he’s resigned?

Surrendering to how adorable my brothers are is the only way to move forward with them—I learned this when they were still infants, so maybe it’s that.

Maybe that’s what has him seemingly settling in and . . . putting down his walls.

I could tell they were high up and reinforced from the moment he stepped into the conference room behind his sister.

Those walls fell away a bit when he met the boys, but then, when Hannah stepped out and I called him over, they went back up with a vengeance.

I hate the part of me that’s desperate to know why.

What is it about me that makes him go on the defensive?

Even if his tone and words don’t reflect that, I saw it.

I see him.

Sunny.

Apt nickname, if his behavior with Maddox and Mason is anything to go by, but not when it comes to me.

And fuck, that pesky stubborn part of my brain also wants, suddenly and desperately, to have him show me that side of himself too.

I have to nip that in the bud.

Stat.

I haven’t acted on my attraction to men often since I first realized that’s what I was feeling my freshman year of high school. I might not be that much smarter now than I was then, but I had the necessary firing neurons to know that shit would not fly with Jim.

Still, I did plenty with some men in college. Men who either didn’t know who I was and I never exchanged names with or men who had as much to lose as me—okay, maybe not as much—if it got out that they’re queer.

I don’t have anything to lose now, and I don’t owe anyone any type of coming out. I’m free to do anything and anyone who wants me, but now definitely isn’t the time to be thinking about that.

Because Sunny is about to become my employee.

It would be all kinds of wrong.

I try as hard as I can to come up with something to say that will be respectable, professional, and encouraging, but Liv’s voice sounds from behind the frosted-glass doors, and a second later, I feel the temperature of the room change with my sisters’ presence.

In that other universe, I might’ve had enough of those firing neurons to focus on what’s most important and might have taken the time to warn Sunny about the grilling he’s about to go through, but then again . . . not in this universe.

Here and now, Sunny—insanely beautiful Sunny, way-too-qualified-to-be-a-nanny Sunny—turns as soon as Victoria and Lawrence round the table to come greet me and screech excitedly.

“Uncle Tuck, we brought our trucks for Mads and Mace.” Law’s adorable toddler voice snaps me out of whatever it was that had my brain so focused on the wrong thing.

She’s three like the boys, and a copy and paste version of Luna.

Victoria on the other hand, is quiet. Always happy to sit and play with dolls or read her picture books in peace. She might only be four, but we’re all dead certain her personality is all Aaron and no Liv.

“Who are you?” Victoria asks, her quiet voice full of curiosity as she looks up at Sunny with her face completely blank.

It always startles people, how intently she can stare, but not Sunny.

No, his face transforms in an instant from “man on his way to the gallows” to “gentle listener.”

“I’m Sunny. What’s your name?”