The Nanny

Chapter 8

“I'm going to miss you all so much, but I'll try to call as often as possible. Please listen to Delia and don't cause her any trouble. That counts for you too Blake! Jessica, remember to study for your last test tomorrow, I know how you always slack on the last test. Meredith, you can't read the entire holiday; please go outside every now and then. Sophie, remember to practice piano, okay honey? Delia if they give you any trouble please show them who is in charge; which is you and not Blake!” Mrs. Anderson rambles, giving Blake a pointed look. We are currently at the airport, Mrs. Anderson's flight is about to board and she just can't seem to say her last goodbye.

“Since when is Delia in charge?” Blake asks feigning shock. I roll my eyes at him, he just has to be the center of attention, by making a claim to the role his mother gave me.

“We'll be fine Michelle. I'll take good care of them,” I reassure her with a smile.

“Okay,” she sighs, “I'm going to miss all of you! Please take care,” she says again, “I love you my babies!” she says kissing each of her children on the head. After giving Andrew a tight hug, she finally leaves to board the plane.

“Can we please go home now? I still have some study work to do,” Jessica pleads.

“Sure, we've been here for way too long anyway. Who's coming with me?” I ask.

“Me!” Andrew and Sophie shout in unison. I smile at them and then turn to Jessica and Meredith.

“Are you coming with me, or with Blake?” I ask them. Mrs. Anderson insisted that we all come to the airport with her, so we took two cars to get here. The one Michelle gave me to use and Blake's.

“You! Most definitely you! Blake is too serious for his own good,” Jessica says.

“I want to come with you as well, please. Blake listens to rock music and I don't like it,” Meredith explains.

“Well, thank you, guys! I love you too,” Blake says sarcastically.

“Aw, is Blake jealous that his sisters prefer me over him?” I mock.

He glares at me, “Don't start with me Johnson!” he warns. I laugh it off, even though his warning sends chills down my spine. Why must he be so intimidating yet so alluring?

***

Tuesday

Ding Dong!

I run down the stairs to answer the door. Who would show up at 10 in the morning?

The girls and Andrew are at school, and Blake made it very clear that he does not want to be disturbed. He's been in the study since I took the kids to school this morning. He instructed me to bring him some tea around eleven but to leave him be the rest of the time. I decided to busy myself by cleaning the house since their maid called in sick this week. Murphy's law that the maid ditches as soon as I start…

I quickly open the door, curious about who might be here, this time of day. I immediately regret my choice of clothing. My grey yoga pants and tight, black tank-top, make me look like a hobo, compared to this guy. I tied my hair into a messy bun and there is a blue bandana tied around my head, to keep stray strands from falling into my face. I look like a typical housemaid, while this guy looks like he should be in court. The tall figure, standing in front of me, is wearing a dark suite. His dark hair cut in a short stylish way; he has a cleanly shaven jawline and piercing grey eyes. Once I finally snap out of my daze and smile at him, he returns it with a smirk. What is it with hot guys and smirking?

“Hi! How may I help you?” I ask politely.

“Good day! I'm Michael Freeman. I'm here to see Blake,” he says. Blake didn't say anything about someone stopping by, but I'm not going to be rude.

“Okay. Well please come in,” I open the door wider and step to the side, “You can wait in the living room, while I inform him that you're here,” I say, motioning toward the living room.

“Thank you. May I ask, what is your name? I don't seem to recall meeting you before,” he steps closer to me. I take a step back, creating some space between us.

“I-I'm D-Delia. Uhm. I'm the new nanny,” I stutter. He takes another step closer to me. What is this guy's problem? Doesn't he know what personal space is? “I'll go call Mr. Anderson,” I say and quickly leave the room.

I knock on the study's door and wait for Blake to answer.

“Delia, I told you not to disturb me!” Blake says as he opens the door, “What do you want?”

“There is a Mr. Michael Freeman here to see you,” I say. I notice his eyes roaming over my casual attire.

“Oh? Thank you,” he seems surprised, “Where is he?”

“He is in the living room. Do you want me to make you some tea?”

“Yes, please. We'll be in the living room,” Blake states and then walks away.

I walk to the kitchen to prepare a pot of tea. I place some biscuits on a plate and carry everything into the living room on the tray.

“So, Michelle finally found a new nanny, hey? She's hot! I bet that is the only reason, you approved of her.”

I almost choke on my own air at Michael's comment. What is that guy's problem?

“No Mike; I approve of her because the girls approve of her. You better watch your mouth about what you say about her,” Blake says calmly but he sounds serious. I smile at the fact that he's looking out for me. I enter the living room and place the tray on the coffee table. I make sure to crouch down instead of bending at the hips, not wanting to give either of the men a show.

“Thank you, Delia,” Blake says, “You may carry on with what you were doing. If it is no trouble I'd like some lunch around two, please.”

I nod and leave the room, desperate to get out of the hungry eyes of Michael Freeman. I really hope this is a one-time visit! Even though he is extremely hot, that guy gives me the creeps!

I avoid going downstairs for the rest of the morning, afraid that I might encounter Michael again. I continue to clean Sophie's room and bathroom. I've already finished Jessica and Meredith's rooms and bathrooms. The fact that each room has an en-suite bathroom still amazes me. It is like this house was built to be a hotel or something. As I vacuum the floor in Sophie's room, my mind drifts to Michael again. Thinking about it now; he looks strangely familiar, but I have no idea where I might have met or seen him before. I remember those grey eyes from somewhere, but I have no idea why. It's not like I know him, or anyone with the surname Freeman for that matter. I shake my head slightly; I'm so overthinking this. I need to find a way to get my mind off him. Every time I think about him it sends an unnerving chill down my spine.

I take my phone out of my pocket, but then I remember that I haven't had time to put music on it. I should really do something about that. There is no way that I'll be able to survive without music… After putting my phone back in my pocket, I turn on Sophie's radio. I'm immediately greeted by Taylor Swift's strong voice. I continue my work, singing along to some of the greatest new hits.

My dancing is interrupted by an amused chuckle. I almost jump out of my skin and spin around to face the door. Blake and Michael stand there smirking at me. Blake's amused eyes make me blush, but once again Michael's stare sends chills down my spine. I feel like a pray being stalked by the predator.

I squirm uncomfortably, “Can I help you?” I ask tentatively. Why are they staring at me?

Michael laughs, “Oh, don't mind us! We were just enjoying the show. You can continue to sway your little butt around; it's quite a view.”

I am taken aback by his comment. I don't want to feel like an object of entertainment. Blake's eyes quickly turn dark, “Don't mind him. He's just being an ass,” he glares at Michael, “I just wanted to tell you that Michael will be joining me for lunch,” he says.

“Oh, okay then. Anything specific you'd like for lunch?” I ask Blake.

“I'd like you to do some of your dance moves on my lap,” Michael suggests cockily. I gasp and take a step back. What the hell is wrong with this guy? I look at him with shock, just before Blake's elbow connects with his stomach. He grunts and I smile slightly. Take that you nasty perverted bastard!

“Anything will do, thank you, Delia,” Blake says and then steers Michael downstairs.

As soon as they are out of sight, I release the breath I didn't know I was holding. That guy needs some serious help.

Around twelve I've cleaned all the rooms except for my own an Andrew's. I decide to take a shower and then make the guys some lunch. After my warm relaxing shower, I dress in some pale skinny jeans and my Nirvana T-shirt. Yeah, I know! Awesome right! I'm really into music. Old, new, metal, pop, anything really. If it has a melody or a beat, I like it!

I quickly pull on my converse and blow-dry my long blonde curls. After my mother's death, more specifically, after George, I wanted to change something in my life. Every time I looked in the mirror and saw my dark curls, I’d think of her. So, I decided to color it. That is the only thing I've really kept up as a treat for myself. After tying my hair in a messy bun again, I put my phone in my pocket and hurry down the stairs.

I will have to prepare their lunch really quickly because it is already one thirty. I decide to make them each a Philly Cheese-steak sandwich. It is Healthy, Easy to make And Delicious! Anything that sticks to the HEAD combination makes my life so much easier. I mix them some lemonade and then carry the tray of food to the living room. They are engaged in a serious conversation, as I place the tray on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Delia!” Blake says with a genuine smile, which I return happily.

“Thanks, doll. Are you going to fulfill my request too?” Michael smirks. I look at him in shock, just as I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, my phone rings.

“Sorry,” I simply say and leave the room. That son of a…

“Hello?” I answer the phone, still pissed about Michael's comment.

“Delia? Can you come to get me?” Jessica's voice begs over the phone. I immediately soften my voice, worry setting in it. Why is she crying?

“I'm on my way. Are you okay? What happened?” I run upstairs to grab my car keys.

“I-I just want to come home,” she sniffs, “I'll tell you later, okay,” she says weakly.

“Okay. I'll meet you out in front of the school in a bit,” I say and end the call.

“Blake! I'm going to get Jessica from school,” I say poking around the living room corner.

“What? Why?” he asks, older brother protectiveness kicking in.

“She called me, crying. I don't know what happened; I'll call you when I know what's going on! I don't know what time we'll be back, I might take her for ice cream or something,” I say eager to leave.

“Okay, please keep me posted,” he says, and I nod.

I quickly leave the house and drive toward the high school. Why is Jessica crying?