Nanny for the SEALs by Cassie Cole

21

Asher

“How do we look today?” Rogan asked me.

My fingers flew over the keyboard. I had four monitors arranged in a grid on my desk, each one showing different social media data for our seventy-four clients. A few keystrokes and mouse-clicks later and I had filtered out everything except Amirah Pratt’s data.

All celebrities got daily threats from fans. There was an amount of background noise on social media that was, for all intents and purposes, normal. This was the case especially for female celebrities. It was an unfortunate truth: they were constantly bombarded with abuse on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and via email.

But I had flagged a few specific threats.

“It’s getting worse,” I said.

Rogan exhaled. “Worse?”

“The threats from the man Brady visited last night have ended. But six more sprang up in his place.”

“Anything specific we should be worried about?”

I filtered the results further. My computer had access to all of Amirah Pratt’s accounts. Instant Messages, Direct Messages, emails—you name it. Everything was fed through my computer so we could identify real threats.

“Here’s one,” I said, maximizing an email that had come in during the early hours of the morning. I read it out loud in a deadpan voice. “Amirah. I cannot wait any longer. I’m going to climb the ivy on your south wall to get into your bathroom. Then I’m going to watch you sleep. Sleep, peaceful, like an angel. When you finally wake up, I will make you sleep forever. Then you will always be an angel. My angel.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rogan said.

I twisted in my chair to look at him. “Any part of that stick out to you?”

“The part about the ivy.”

I nodded. “Amirah’s house has a perimeter wall around the property. The ivy is hidden… Unless you are inside the perimeter. And no, it’s not visible on Google Maps.”

“Her stalker has climbed the wall.”

“At least once.”

Rogan pinched the bridge of his nose. I didn’t envy his position. I was happy to focus on the intel and technological side of the business, but Rogan had to make most of the decisions. If he made the wrong one, someone could end up dead.

“I have a bad feeling about this one,” Rogan finally said. “I have Cooper covering her right now, but he’s still green. And he gets complacent at night. I want an extra set of eyes on Amirah’s place this week.”

“I would be happy to do it,” I said. “I have not done surveillance work in over a year. It wouldn’t hurt to keep me sharp.”

I made the offer knowing full well that Rogan wouldn’t accept. And sure enough, he shook his head.

“I’m going to take this one myself. Can’t shake this bad feeling.”

“Part of running a company like HLS Security means learning to delegate,” I said gently. “You don’t need to be in control of every single client.”

“Old habits die hard.” He nodded, then lingered next to my desk. “Speaking of old habits, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Is it about how you’ve been sleeping with Heather?”

I rarely got the jump on either of my teammates, so I relished whenever I did. Rogan gave a start and said, “How’d you know?”

“I’m in charge of intel,” I said simply. “I’m a perceptive man. And you have been getting sloppy. Several times, you came home smelling like her.”

Rogan cocked his head to one side. “You know what she smells like, eh?”

I thought about the first night I met Heather, back in the suite at the Lakers game when we thought she was Amirah Pratt. Her smell had wafted through the suite the moment she arrived, and remained long after she left. I wouldn’t have been able to forget that smell even if I had never seen her again. But now that she was working for us, that smell lingered in the residence every night when we came home from the office. It was pungent and intoxicating.

I couldn’t get it out of my head, no matter how hard I tried.

“When were you going to tell us?” I asked.

“Right now,” Rogan said. “I’m the one who brought it up.”

I shook my head. “I mean, when would you have told us if Brady hadn’t caught you last night?”

For the second time that day, I caught him off guard. “How do you know…”

“Brady has no poker face. I knew he found out the moment you two came home last night. When were you going to tell me?”

Rogan sank into the office chair next to mine. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“You told us you weren’t going to do anything,” I reminded him. “You said getting the children taken care of was the most important thing, and we couldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

“You sound like Brady.”

I smiled. “Normally that would be an insult, but in this case, he’s right. Is it just physical, or is there more there?”

Rogan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know.”

He was telling the truth. Brady could be fooled, but Rogan knew he couldn’t get a lie past me.

“Go on,” Rogan insisted. “Let me have it. I deserve it.”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. “You told us Heather was off-limits, then you broke your rule. It’s not like you to put your own selfish desires above the group.”

“I know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Perhaps Brady wanted to make a pass at her, but held off,” I said.

Rogan examined me for a long while. “Brady, or you?”

“Either of us,” I said, deflecting the accusation.

“Make a move on her if you want,” Rogan said. “She’s her own woman. I don’t own her.”

“That won’t make you jealous?”

“I don’t know. It might. But it’s only fair.” Rogan ran his hand through his hair. “Oh, by the way. She’s moving in tonight.”

I nodded. “I suspected she would. It’s the only way to keep Brady from spoiling the boys while she’s gone.”

Rogan stared intently at me. “Doing it at the hotel is one thing. Doing it here is another. If you don’t want us fooling around at the residence, then I’ll understand. Just say the word.”

“You don’t need my approval,” I said. “You’re an adult, and so is she. I don’t care what you do.” I swiveled back toward my screens.

“Are you sure?” Rogan asked.

“As long as it doesn’t blow up in your face and affect the children. If we need to find a new nanny next month because you broke her heart, then I will be upset.”

Rogan chuckled. “I don’t think I have to worry about breaking her heart. Heather’s a strong woman.”

She is, I thought while returning to my work.

*

That evening, Rogan drove Heather back to the hotel to retrieve her belongings. I expected them to be gone a while—to enjoy one last night of fun—but they returned so soon that I was still in the kitchen cooking dinner. They must not have done anything.

“I’m heading out to Amirah’s,” Rogan told me after carrying Heather’s suitcases to her room. “Text me if you need anything.”

Glad to know he’s prioritizing work over play.

“I forwarded her social media feed to your phone,” I told him while stirring tomato sauce on the stove. “Keep an eye out for anything coded orange or above.”

Rogan gave Heather a hug goodbye—just a hug, I noticed—and then left.

“Code orange?” Heather asked me.

“Severity levels of different social media threats. We filter out the lower threats based on perceived chance of occurring.”

Heather came up behind me and learned close to the pot of sauce. Her fragrance cut through the spice and garlic, activating part of my brain.

“Smells great,” she said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It does.”

Dinner was more pleasant with Heather at the table. She was a persistent force affecting the boys, causing them to mind their manners just a little bit more than usual.

“I like it when Miss Heather is here,” Cora chirped up when we cleaned the table. “I hope she stays here more often.”

“I think she will be, honey-bee,” I replied. Cora beamed.

Bath time was also easier. Usually we did the boys first, then Cora. Not to separate them out by gender, but just because three was too many to handle in our bathtub at once, and the boys liked to play together. But with Heather here, she took care of Dustin and Micah, which freed me up to bathe Cora at the same time.

Then Heather read a bedtime story to all three of them. Usually the boys fidgeted and started kicking each other at this point, but they gave Heather their full attention.

I considered myself a modern man. I wanted a full woman: one who was smart, had a career, and was fulfilled in every aspect of her life. I didn’t just want a mom to watch the kids.

But when Heather tucked Cora into bed and kissed her on the head, something relaxed inside my chest. The primal part of my brain was deeply attracted to her while she was taking care of my daughter.

The maternal instinct was sexy. Especially when it bubbled to the surface from a woman as feisty and independent as Heather Hart.

“Beer?” Brady asked when we were all back in the kitchen. He opened the fridge and wafted a can in the air.

I was going to decline, but Heather said, “Hell yeah. Beer me.”

Brady tossed the can to her and she caught it with one hand. “I’ll take one too,” I said.

After accepting our beers, I sat on the couch. Brady took one of the recliners, and then Heather flopped down next to me.

Here’s the thing about me. I’m an analytical kind of person. I’m perceptive, and I notice things. I collect all that data and then analyze it.

This is a great thing when it comes to protecting clients from stalkers, but it’s bad when it comes to women.

Heather had the entire couch open to her left. Two enormous cushions to choose from. Yet she had chosen to sit right next to me, her bare leg only inches from the cuff of my dress pants. Her skirt ran up her thigh as she propped her foot up on the Ottoman.

“The boys were real good tonight,” Brady said.

“Because I was here to keep certain people from sneaking them candy,” she replied.

Brady rolled his eyes and guzzled down half his beer. “Yeah, yeah. You’re a regular Mrs. Doubtfire.”

“Minus the cross-dressing,” I said. I wasn’t good with jokes, but it seemed like a funny one.

Heather thought so too, because she giggled. “Who says I’m not a cross-dresser? I could be swinging some serious pipe under this skirt.”

She gestured at her groin, which immediately drew my gaze. Her legs were long and smooth. I wondered what they would feel like beneath my fingertips.

“Well, you’re the hottest cross-dresser I’ve ever seen,” Brady said.

Heather raised her beer. “That’s a weird compliment, but thank you. You two aren’t so bad yourselves, although I’m pretty sure you’re all man underneath those clothes. Asher’s arms are practically ripping the sleeves.”

I felt my cheeks turn hot. “I’m not as muscular as Brady. Or Rogan.”

She leaned sideways and gave me a long examination. “Comparison is the thief of joy, you know.”

“Teddy Roosevelt said that,” I remarked.

“Did he?” Heather shrugged. “It’s true, no matter who said it. You’re fucking ripped, man. It’s weird working for three guys like you. I’ve never had hot bosses.”

“Well, we’ve never had a hot nanny, either,” Brady replied smoothly.

“I don’t know,” I said, giving Heather a wink. “Our last nanny was pretty sexy. You should have seen the skirts she wore…”

Brady put down his beer and pointed across the coffee table at me. “You fucken take that back. That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

“Was she?” I said with a small smile. “She has a much better ass than you.”

Brady pretended like he was going to hurl his beer at me. Heather rolled sideways on the couch in a fit of laughter.

“Don’t listen to this pervert,” Brady said. “You’re way sexier than Patty.”

“Careful, boys,” Heather said. “You’re going to make a girl blush.”

Heather was flirting with us. And Brady was flirting back. I was pretty sure he had a thing for her. I couldn’t blame him. Heather’s scent was surrounding me, making me feel more light-headed than the beer ever could.

Three of us. One nanny. You didn’t need to be analytical to realize the math didn’t work out.

And now she was living with us.

Things are about to get a lot more complicated.