“Yep.” She finally says. “But, I didn’t move here for that. Not that any of them did. I’m more interested in figuring out what’s next for me. I know this may come as a shock to you.” She dabs her mouth with her napkin. “But I don’t plan on being a nanny forever.”
“No?” I tease. “I hear it’s got great benefits, and a 401k.”
“What?” She plays along. “Why are you holding out on me?”
“I meanafterthis job, of course.”
“Ah.” She laughs, nodding her head. “Of course.”
A silence passes between us, interrupted by the loud slurping of a seven year old eating pasta. Both of us turn to her at the same time.
“Do you mind?” Emmi says. “You’re assaulting our ears.”
“What’s assaulting?”
Emmi flinches. “It means your being loud, and annoying the adults who are trying to eat.”
Tash, purposely eats slower, her lips pressed together dramatically. Isn’t she quite the little clown? And this ‘wash your paws’ business. That’s new. It must be Emmi’s doing. When she’s finally just tapping at her red sauce, Emmi grabs both of their plates.
“Bath time.”
“No!”
“Princesses need to be clean before they put on their gowns.” Tash doesn’t say a word, instead she bolts from the table and heads up the stairs. Once Emmi puts the dishes in the sink, she reaches for my plate. “May I?”
“Thanks.” I say, leaning back. When she leans forward, the warm scent of amber fills the space between us. I close my eyes and breathe her in. I almost tell her how good she smells, but think twice about it. I am, after all, her boss.
“I can clean up in here.” I stand, heading to the sink where Emmi’s already started the dishes.
“If you have more work to do—”
She turns around at the exact same time I approach her. My hands grip her forearms. Emmi’s soft body presses up against me. We stand there for a beat, staring into each other’s eyes. My length stiffens, threatening to burst free from my pants.
“Sorry,” Emmi says, taking a step backward. “I didn’t know you were there.”
Every instinct I have begs me to press my lips against hers. Tell her that she’s dangerous for me. That I haven’t been able to sleep without stroking myself ever since she’s moved in. But, my rational brain takes over. “I’ll clean.”
Emmi nods and heads up the stairs, leaving me rock hard and angsty.
5
Emmi
Tash stands on her tiptoes,stretching to reach the lip gloss wand to my top lip. Normally I wouldn’t take off my dark lipstick for the world, but after the blatant insistence that princesses don’t have black lips—they’re actually a dark purple, thank you very much—I was forced to wipe it off.
“Emmi, stop moving.” The little girl says.
“I’m not!” I say, smiling at her adorable insistence.
“Stop moving your lips,” Emmi whines. “When you talk, it makes them move.”
“Mm-mm.” I press my lips together as tight as I can while still giving her space to finish the job.
“All done.” Tash steps back, her tiny toes digging into the pink paisley area rug, and clasps her hands to her chest. “You look like a real live princess!” She squeals. “Look, look, look.” I try to hide my eye-roll as I head the mirror. I’ve never wanted to look like a princess, but I can’t let her see that. I step to the full length mirror on Tash’s closet door.
“Holy moly.” I examine my sparkling bubble gum pink lips. With my hair pulled up in a tight bun, and my black eyeliner washed away at Tash’s insistence, I do look a little like a princess. Minus the black, off the shoulder t-shirt and ripped jeans, of course. “I do look like a princess, Tash.”
“No.” I whip my head around in her direction.