“Oh!” She let out a nervous laugh. “Evan. Of course. He, uh, he called this morning to talk to Lyon.”
Angel fell quiet again. Kimber checked the screen of her iPhone to be sure the call hadn’t dropped.
When she returned it to her ear, Angel said, “I am so dim!”
Her intuition prickled. Or maybe that was her pride. “What? No you’re not.” She snapped a Lego into place. Lyon pulled it off and put it on again, frowning in concentration. Perfectionist. She thought of his concise, intentional uncle and had no doubt who Lyon had inherited that quality from.
“It’s Landon,” Angel said.
“What’s Landon?” Kimber offered the next piece to Lyon. He took it. She was glad. She couldn’t take the rejection.
“Has it always been Landon?”
Uh-oh.
“I’m hungry.” Lyon pouted and held his stomach.
“You’re always hungry,” she told him before returning to her call. “Angel, what are you—”
“I thought you had a crush on Evan all those years ago.” She gasped and Kimber’s skin erupted into goose bumps. “How could you keep this from me?”
Guilt pinged along her ribs like a pinball had been shot into her chest cavity. “I didn’t mean to. I just… never corrected you when you assumed it was Evan.”
Lyon frowned at the mention of his father’s name. Right. She should watch what she said in front of the little playback machine.
Angel’s good-natured laugh startled her. “Landon’s a good choice,” she said. “He’s single, he’s rich. He’s not what I’d call romantic, so if you’re suffering any chocolates-and-roses fantasies, I think you can hang those out to dry. But he is established. Stable. Lives close to you.”
Only he did bring me chocolates. And potato chips are better than roses. She shut her eyes. That so wasn’t the point. “Angel, I’m not really looking for—”
“Can I have Teddy Grahams?” Lyon flopped to the floor, doing his best impression of a famished child.
“Yes,” she answered him. “Do you need me to get them for you?” And hang up with your prying aunt? But he was already on the move, tapping into a store of energy that sent him bouncing out of the bedroom like Tigger hopped up on Red Bull. “It’s not like that,” she told Angel, raking her fingers through the pile of Legos. “I don’t even know him.”
But her friend wasn’t about to be thwarted. “So get to know him. You live with him. How hard could it be?”
She thought of last night’s conversation. Landon hadn’t answered her when she prompted conversation about Windy City. Then he’d practically drawn a line in the sand when she’d offered him leftovers from dinner. It’s not your job to cook for me.
“I don’t… think he likes me.”
“Pssh! Kimber. You’re beautiful, you’re stylish, and you’re mothering his only nephew. He probably thinks you walk on water in your spare time. I know he seems like a fuddy-duddy, and I’ll admit this whole Lissa situation was… weird.”
Kimber frowned at the mention of Lissa. She wanted to ask, but refused to pry.
“Maybe he needs a real woman,” Angel said. “A woman who knows who she is.”
Whoa. Get ahead of herself much? “I’m here for Lyon,” she reminded both of them. “And a paycheck so I can buy my ex-boyfriend out of my business. I’m not interested in Landon.” She touched the tip of her nose to make sure it hadn’t grown a few inches and sprouted leaves. Because there wasn’t a bigger lie than the one she’d just told. She’d been interested in Landon since she’d laid eyes on him at age sixteen.
Angel sighed. “Fine. I just got all excited. You’d be good for him. Yin to his yang. Butter to his bread. He’s a family man, you know. Underneath that ridiculous arrangement with Lissa, I believe he really wants to be in a stable relationship.”
Ha! If he was looking for stable, he’d stumbled into the wrong nanny. Kimber had no idea where she’d be in five years, five months, or in five minutes. She was spontaneous and fell in love too quickly and made spur-of-the-moment decisions without much rational thought. Like buying Hobo Chic with Mick. Landon, with his details and lists and über-organized penthouse, would go crazy if someone like Kimber were his other half.
Now who’s getting ahead of herself?
Angel covered the phone, muffling her voice. “I know. I’m not!” she called out, probably to Richie. “I’m back. My husband is berating me for playing Cupid. It’s a pastime.”