P.S. You’re Intolerable (The Harder They Fall)

TRUE TO HIS WORD, Elliot took care of my salary the day after my living room breakdown, and I felt supremely stupid for not bringing it up months ago.

Not only did I receive a substantial increase in pay, but he’d deposited months’ worth of back pay he claimed I was owed. The number on my bank account was mind-bogglingly fat. Probably more than I was “owed,” but again, gift horse, mouth, wasn’t gonna happen.

To compound his generosity even further, he’d gotten me in with his mortgage broker within a week and helped me refinance as my cosigner. How he’d managed to do it so quickly, I’d never know. It was his special brand of Elliot Levy magic.

With the raise and lower mortgage payment came the realization I could afford a nanny for Joey. Once I had permission from Elliot to use his home, I set up interviews for the next week.

Other than brief conversations about mortgages, nannies, groceries, and Leafy-Daniel, along with notes every day, Elliot and I kept our distance.

I was mortified.

He was probably regretting the day we met—and especially inviting me to stay here.

I still couldn’t believe I’d sobbed all over him. His poor shirt had been soaked with my tears. At least I hadn’t leaked milk on him at the same time. I never would have recovered.

He hadn’t asked us to leave, though, so he couldn’t have been as mortified as I was. In fact, he reiterated in his daily notes that Joey and I were welcome to stay for as long as we liked.

And we did like.

Joey had become a sleeping rock star since we’d moved in, and I was…well, less of a rock star and more of a cruise ship lounge singer. Still, previously, I’d been more of a karaoke singer without a mic or the scrolling screen of lyrics.

But the sleep I got was restful, which made a massive difference in my disposition and outlook. It no longer felt like the sky was falling. My house was still a wreck, Liam had done a runner, my body wasn’t the same, and sometimes I considered what it would be like to kiss Elliot, but I was okay. Safe, with a gorgeous roof over my head and an even more beautiful little daughter.

I stroked Joey’s cheek as she nursed. “We’re going to meet some nice people today, honey. One of them might be your nanny while Mommy and Elliot go to work. Not that it matters if Elliot is here. He’s not responsible for you, which you know, of course, even though you like when he holds you in the palm of his hand. I think you got a little mixed up about that. You’re supposed to wrap him around your pinkie.”

The first of three candidates arrived right on time. Mary was young, no more than twenty-two, but according to the agency I’d contacted, she’d been taking care of babies and children most of her life.

She bustled into Elliot’s house, giving me a firm handshake, then swept her gaze over the architecture.

“You have a very beautiful home,” she said in a brusque tone.

“Oh, it isn’t mine. The baby and I are staying with a friend.”

“And the father?”

“It’s just me,” I breezed. I had to get used to saying that since I was certain I’d be asked the same question for as long as I was single—which would be a long, long time.

Mary’s thin lips flattened into a straight line, and my gut bubbled with reservation. When I’d pictured a nanny for Joey, Mrs. Doubtfire or Mary Poppins had come to mind, not a staid-looking young woman with all the warmth of an ice cube.

I was probably being too hasty in my judgment, and that was most likely due to being nervous about leaving Joey with someone else when we’d been attached at the boob for two months.

“That’s okay,” Mary said in a tone that conveyed she didn’t actually think it was. “Is the baby sleeping?”

“Yes. She has a pretty regular morning nap, so she should stay asleep while we chat.”

“Good.” Mary nodded sharply. “Schedules are vital for infants’ development. They are the backbone of my nannying philosophy.”

Thinking she was joking, I started to laugh—a nannying philosophy sounded a little ridiculous. Mary merely glanced around the foyer with a tight expression, her hands clamped tight around the strap of her shoulder bag.

“Okay, great. Let’s go have a chat in the living room. I’d love to get to know more about you, Mary.”

She finally looked at me, lifting her chin in acknowledgment. “Certainly. I’ll follow you.”

We settled in the living room, Mary in an armchair, me on the sofa across from her. I’d set out bottles of water and cheese and crackers, which she ignored. It was fine. I wouldn’t have been able to eat during an interview either.

“Okay. Let’s get started.” I smiled at her, trying to convey good mother and totally not an impostor. She only blinked back, so I wasn’t sure how convincing I was.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry I’m late.”

Mary and I whipped around at the sound of Elliot’s voice. He unbuttoned his blazer as he strode into the living room. His gaze landed on mine, and he offered the barest hint of a smile.

He sat down beside me, so close his thigh brushed mine. I stared at him, confused by his sudden appearance.

Turning to him so my hair blocked my face, I murmured, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for the interviews,” he stated, like it was that simple.

“You are?”

“Yes.” He patted my knee once then gave it a firm squeeze. “Introduce me.”

Mary leaped from her seat with more energy than she’d shown me the entire time. “Hello, I’m Mary Lewis. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Elliot didn’t offer her his hand and remained beside me. “Hello, Mary. I’m Elliot Levy. Catherine and I have some questions for you. Please, sit down and we’ll get started.”

This was the Elliot I was familiar with. The one who inspired hundreds of postscripts. Cold and abrupt. He hadn’t been that way with me lately, and the little green-eyed monster inside me was pleased Mary was receiving that treatment.

The hopeful expression on her face was instantly dashed. What she’d hoped for from Elliot, I could have only guessed.

“You have questions?” I asked under my breath.

“I do.” He raised a brow. “Don’t you?”

“Yes. This is my interview.”

He flipped his hands over on his legs. “Then I’ll just sit back and listen. Two heads are better than one, right?”

A part of me felt like I should have been arguing with him over this, but I really couldn’t think of a reason why. Elliot was well versed in interviewing, and even though I hated to admit it, I was relieved to have him beside me.

“Right.” I turned to Mary and pushed out a smile. “Let’s get started.”

We ran through the basic questions. Mary really did have an impressive résumé. I would have taken that with a grain of salt since I knew all too well how easily résumés could be faked, but an agency had vetted her, so I accepted it at face value.

Elliot, not so much.

“And you don’t mind if we call the last family you were with?” he asked, taking charge.

Mary shook her head. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I expect it. I know it’s difficult for first-time parents to cut the cord and let go of complete control.”

I bristled at her words. Yeah, it was hard to let go, but I wasn’t a hover mother or anything. Well, I sort of was, but Mary didn’t know that, and I didn’t care for her implying there was something wrong with being nervous about leaving my baby with her.

Elliot was on a roll now. “Isn’t it understandable parents might be apprehensive?”

Mary melted into a saccharine smile. “Of course it is. I do my best to alleviate those nerves.”

“That’s a relief,” he stated dryly. “I’d like to ask what you would do in a few different situations. I’m sure hearing your answers will further calm our nerves.”

She stacked her hands on her knees. “Yes, feel free. I’m happy to answer all your questions, Elliot.”

Oh, this chick. My middle finger was twitching hard. No way was she getting this job. I was, however, eager to see her get the Elliot Levy treatment since he appeared equally unimpressed with her and her attitude.

Elliot rapid-fired a couple scenarios at her, and to her credit, she had very good answers. She clearly knew a lot more about taking care of babies than I did. What she didn’t have was warmth. I couldn’t imagine her snuggling a baby to sleep or comforting a small child. There was nothing nurturing about her. I might not have known when to seek medical attention should Joey have a fever—I refused to believe she’d ever get sick, but if she did, I’d be in her doctor’s office faster than he could say influenza—but I did know how to give powerful hugs and patch up a boo-boo.

“How do you handle bad days when a baby is fussy for no discernible reason?” he asked.

Elliot was pretty good at patching up boo-boos too, come to think of it. We both had a leg up on this chick.

I laid my hand on his arm. “Not that Joey’s fussy. She only really cries when she’s hungry.”

Mary quickly but unmistakably rolled her eyes. The gesture hadn’t escaped me. From the way Elliot tensed beside me, it hadn’t escaped him either.

“Well, I—”

Elliot cut her off by raising his hand. “How am I to interpret your eye roll?”

Her mouth flapped open and closed. “What? No, I didn’t—”

“No, you did,” he replied. “From where I’m sitting, you rolled your eyes because either you don’t believe Josephine isn’t a fussy baby, or you don’t consider what Catherine had to say about her own child valid. Which is it?”

She grew beet red from her throat to her forehead. “That isn’t what I meant, Elliot. It’s just—”

“It’s Mr. Levy, and I know exactly what you meant.” Elliot rose to his feet, towering over Mary and me. “We’ve heard enough, Mary. We won’t be using your services. I’ll show you out.”

Before I could utter a single word, Elliot hustled Mary from the room, leaving me gawking after them.

I had whiplash. Elliot had hijacked my interview then dismissed her without any say from me. Not that I’d been planning to hire that awful woman, but still, it was the principle. This was about my child. If anyone was going to do the dismissing, it should have been me.

Moments later, Elliot reappeared, hands in his pocket, a deep frown tugging his mouth down.

“The agency needs to know what kind of person they’re sending out on interviews.” He shook his head with disgust. “She tried to slip me her number before I tossed her out. As if I’d have any interest in someone who showed no respect for you.”

I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest. “What are you doing, Elliot? When I asked if I could hold interviews here, I didn’t mean for you to show up to them.”

He waved off my concern. “It wasn’t a problem for Daniel to reschedule my appointments.”

“You never reschedule your appointments.”

His gaze landed on mine. “I haven’t had a reason to.” Crossing the room, he stopped in front of me, wrapping his fingers around my forearms. He unfolded them and lowered them to my sides, but he didn’t let go, holding on to my elbows in a firm grip. “Are you mad at me?”

“A little, yeah.”

“There is no way you wanted that woman to watch Jo. I did you a favor by ending the interview early. Myself a favor too. I couldn’t sit through any more of her condescending answers, could you?”

“No, but that isn’t the point. I need to be the one who has the final say. You can’t take that away from me.”

He tapped my arm twice, and it reminded me of the way he tapped his mouse when he was annoyed with me. Tap, tap, motherclucker, I’m a little annoyed with you too.

“You do have the final say.” That tapping finger stroked along the crook of my arm, back and forth. “But you agreed I could sit in on the interview when I arrived.”

“When you showed up without warning.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed warning to show up in my own home.”

I huffed. “I could have been naked.”

His brow winged, but this time, it wasn’t dubious. More like devious. “More reason for me not to warn you.”

My jaw dropped, and Elliot chuckled. “Shut up,” I muttered.

“You’re not mad, Catherine.”

“Says you.”

He laughed again. “I’ve never seen this pouty side of you.”

“And I’ve never heard you say you want to see me naked. We’re both learning things about each other.”

He cocked his head. “Did I say that?”

“It was implied.”

“Hmph. If that’s what you wish to think.” I rolled my eyes. It couldn’t be helped. “That little move got Mary thrown out.”

“Don’t be so obtuse and I won’t roll my eyes at you.”

One side of his mouth hooked. “I remember when you didn’t talk back.”

“And now you’re missing the days when I was a little mouse around you?”

“Did I say that?” he repeated.

His head was tilted down, and mine was tipped back. We watched each other, both with a hint of a smile. I still should have been annoyed with him, but that wasn’t what I was feeling. Awareness of our proximity made my breath quicken. His warm, broad hands cupping my elbows and the intensity of his gaze tracing over my features set alight long-cooled embers in my belly.

The chimes of the doorbell shattered the moment, making me jump. Elliot’s hands fell away.

“That must be the next nanny,” I said, turning toward the door.

Sharp cries from the baby monitor stopped me in my tracks. Elliot swept the monitor off the table, checking the screen.

“Josephine’s awake and pissed off.” He started for the stairs in a rush, like he couldn’t get to her quickly enough. “I’ll get her while you let the nanny in.”

“Okay. Thank you.” My heart did a funny thing at the sight of Elliot Levy bounding up the stairs to collect my daughter.

With no time to decipher what the twister inside my chest meant, I hurried to the door.

A broad man with soft brown eyes and a flop of chestnut hair stood on the other side. His smile held all the warmth Mary’s hadn’t.

“Hello. You must be Sam.”

He offered his hand. “I am Sam. You’re Catherine Warner, correct?”

His big hand engulfed mine as we shook. “Please, come in. And call me Kit.” I waved around the grand entry. “Joey and I are staying here temporarily. It’s okay to oooh and ahhh—I did the first time I saw it.”

With a grin, he swiveled his head left and right. “Oooh. Ahhh.”

I laughed, optimism blossoming. “Come on in. My friend Elliot is grabbing Joey. She just woke up from a nap, so she’ll be joining us for the interview.”

“That’s great. I’m eager to meet her,” he answered.

Joey’s cries greeted us in the living room. The girl was clearly hungry and angry about it. I directed Sam to a seat then met Elliot on the other side of the room, where he was jiggling and swaying with my daughter.

“I changed her, so she’s extra mad,” he told me.

My breath caught. I didn’t know exactly why, but Elliot changing Joey’s diaper had made my throat tighten with emotion.

“Thank you so much.”

He huffed a laugh. “It was just a diaper, Catherine. You’ve probably changed a few hundred by now.”

“I have. Only me.”

His gaze went almost tender with understanding. “You’re welcome.”

“Give me the girl, Elliot.”

As soon as I took her from him, she started rooting on my chest. I moved to go sit down to feed her when Elliot caught my shoulder.

“Why is there a man in my living room?” he asked in a controlled, flat tone.

“He’s here for his interview, of course.” When he didn’t let go of me, I glanced down at his hand then back up to him. “I need to feed Joey. You’re going to have to release me.”

“You’re interviewing a man to be Josephine’s nanny?”

“That’s Sam. He seems really nice. Better than Mary, that’s for sure.” I shrugged, trying to knock him off. “Joey’s going to eat my soul if she doesn’t get milk soon.”

His brow pinched. He slowly let his hand slip down my arm until it fell away. “I’ll get your nursing cover.”

While he raced back upstairs to find the cover I loathed and rarely used, I sat down across from Sam, Joey squealing in my arms.

“Do you mind if I nurse her? She’s this close to staging a mutiny due to starvation.”

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “It’s completely fine with me. I’ve nannied for several nursing mothers.”

I put a pillow under my elbow and pulled up my shirt. Fortunately, I was wearing a nursing tank underneath, saving me from flashing my soft, white stomach at Sam. Not that he was looking. He had averted his gaze to the papers he’d brought with him.

What a nice guy.

Before he’d shown up, I hadn’t been too sure about hiring a man as a nanny, but Sam was giving me good vibes. I hoped he didn’t ruin it.