Her Dad’s Best Friend

"I can't help worrying," I say. "I know how many nannies you've fired or who have quit."

"Somehow, I think you'll be different," Jeff says. There's a light with a little fondness in his eyes. "I promise to you give some notice if it happens." He extends his hand to me. I put my much smaller hand in his huge warm one. I can feel goosebumps prickle. It feels like electricity is buzzing through my body. Too soon, I'm on my feet.

"I'll go home now," I say, suddenly breathless.

"See you tomorrow."

I can feel the weight of his gaze on me as I walk home. As I go home, I decide that I don't want to go home just yet. I yank my phone out of my pocket to tell my father that I won't be home. He sends a short text back, "OK."

I walk to this tiny Irish pub at the end of our street. I can't drink, but I always love the live Irish music that they have on some nights and I'm totally addicted to whatever seasoning they use for their chips. It's somewhat empty, maybe half full if that. I order a basket of chips and it takes just a few minutes for them to come out. They aren't too busy.

I'm fully aware that I should be eating a real dinner, but instead I squirt a huge amount of ketchup onto the plate and indulge in calorie-filled indulgence. My head is spinning. I've been on the job for two days and I have no idea if I'm going to make it.

Jeff is really attractive. Danny seems to be warming up to me. I could be pretty happy here for the rest of the summer, except I kind of feel a spark between Jeff and me. And I don't know what to do about it.

It feels like I'm becoming Tantalus, doomed to be tempted by water that I can never drink. If I were a good person, I'd throw in the towel and not interfere with Jeff and my dad's long-term friendship that goes back to the old days when they were both deployed.

I am not a good person, so I begin to dream about what it would be like if I just went up to him and told him how I felt.

"I want you," I say. I put one hand on his cheek. "And I know you want me, too."

No hesitation at all. He takes my dress off of me and discards my undergarments. His mouth descends on mine, hot and passionate. He's wearing a shirt and pants. I unbuckled his belt as he wraps his hands around my waist and sticks his tongue in my mouth, slowly pulsing in a rhythm that makes me crazy. I unzip his pants and push his pants and boxers off. He strips off his shirt. I take a moment to appreciate the sight of Jeff shirtless. Damn. But the moment is gone because he's settling himself between my thighs.

"It's your lucky day. Today, we're giving out free berry cider."

"I can't drink," I say, blushing because I'm totally wet but also have to talk to this waitress. When I was 12, my dad had taken me to a pub where I'd ordered apple cider, which made everyone laugh. I hadn't known that it was alcoholic.

"Non-alcoholic," the waitress says to me, the smile never leaving her pretty face. "Would you like some?"

"Sounds good to me."

In another minute, she's coming back to me with a beautiful glass of purple cider. The first taste of it tastes like Welch's Fruit Snacks. It is really good.

"I didn't know that berry cider even existed," I say.

"It's a special today. If you buy a gallon, it's half price, so if you want to take some home, just say so when you're paying your bill. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No thanks," I tell her. She flounces off to bring berry cider to other people. I didn't realize how good berry cider could be with thick, salty chips, but they complement each other wonderfully well. There's a kind of bite to the berry cider which I totally love.

After polishing off the thick-cut fries, which I totally love way more than shoestring fries, I know that I have to head home. But there's a kind of dread sitting in my stomach. My dad isn't expecting me home. I decide to call my friend Camilla. She has a little boy, Jacky, so she's been kind of busy lately. I text her before I call.

Are you free?

In another few seconds, my phone buzzes. There's a little notification that says yes.

I call her. "Hey."

"Hi," she says. "Jacky, put that down right now! It doesn't go in your mouth!"

I stifle a giggle. It feels good to know that I'm not the only one taking care of a particularly unruly baby.

"Sorry about that," she says. "He wanted to put a plug in his mouth. I swear, ever since he learned how to walk, he's been into everything. We've tried to baby-proof the whole house, but I seriously don't think that they sell Jacky-proofing materials."

"You sound frazzled," I say. "When can I come meet your little monster?"

"How about tonight? Are you free? I was planning on ordering some barbecue pizza and if you're coming, I'll open up a bottle of sparkling apple cider."

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