Nanny for the Neighbors

by Lily Gold

Jane and Paul are my old foster parents, and Benny’s adoptive parents. Benny and I met when they fostered us both as teenagers. They kept us for almost a year before booting me back to the group home and starting the process of adopting him.

Jack Insley is even more stunning than I remember. High cheekbones, square jaw, and electric-blue eyes shining at me from behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. His blonde hair is spiky from him running his fingers through it, and he’s wearing a pair of Converse with Pacman printed on the side. The whole effect is very geek chic.

No one says anything. I look up. All three men are staring at me, their eyes wide. I blink. “What?” “She’s a witch,” Cyrus says faintly. “What the hell. She’s been crying for about six hours straight. Are you saying all we had to do is pick her up?”

He’s… intimidating-looking. Everything about him is sharp and angular. He’s dressed in a dove-grey suit, with a crisp white shirt and a thin tie knotted precisely around his throat. His coppery-brown hair is styled neatly, his pale grey eyes are cold and steely, and his hard, sculpted face looks like it’s been carved out of rock. The only thing that softens up his expression is his mouth. His lips are full and pink, almost sulky, as he steps towards the coffee table, laying a hand on the car seat.

“I don’t fancy her,” I protest. “Say her name without blushing.” I open my mouth, then snap it shut again.

Jack’s hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist, keeping me in place. “I have a crush on you,” he blurts out.

“He’s reading her a story,” he says, looking amused. “Seriously?” “Well. It’s a chapter from a textbook about international copyright law. I’ve told him he has to at least do funny voices to keep her interested, but he refuses.”

I float awake to the sound of voices. “Quick,” someone hisses. “Oh my God, they’re so cute. Get a picture.” “Don’t,” Seb’s voice warns.

“Holy shit, Seb,” she mumbles. “You’re a freaking nuclear weapon.” It was just as good for her, then. Thank God. I nuzzle into her soft curls, breathing in her sweet apple scent. “My dick causes widespread death and destruction?” “It belongs in a fucking containment facility. Made of concrete. Buried fifty feet underground. Somewhere near the Earth’s core, where no poor, innocent girl will accidentally stumble across it and get fucked to pieces.” She twitches as an aftershock runs through her. “I think I’m dead. My vagina exploded.”

“What were you expecting?” I wrap a curl around my finger, tugging it and watching it spring back into place. “Silent missionary sex where you counted your thrusts and thought about the upcoming tax season to get yourself off.”

“I’m not a punishment,” I choke. “I’m a person.”