I’m about to fight back, but Willa turning her strawberry lips up at me stops me in my tracks. “Come on. It will be good for you.” My brows knit together as I stare down at her. The nanny. The nanny. The nanny. The nanny. The nanny shouldn’t look this fucking good to me. The nanny shouldn’t know or tell me what’s good for me. And I shouldn’t listen. But I’m an idiot, so I respond with, “Fine.”
