“I was fired today,” Olivia said. “Again.”

  “How?” I asked, incredulous. “It’s not even noon and you’ve been on a plane for most of the morning.”

  Even she couldn’t be that incompetent.

  “Oh, don’t be a pedantic jerk about it. Technically, I was fired yesterday,” Olivia admitted. “But I haven’t been to bed yet. When a family fires you, it’s best to leave as soon as possible.”

  “A whole family fired you?” I asked, confused. I had a vision of some beleaguered office manager calling his mom for support just so he could get a word in edgewise as he tried to shove Olivia out the door.

  “Just the parents. I’m a live-in nanny,” she explained, which I guessed made sense. When she wasn’t snapping at me, she had an open, pretty, approachable air that reminded me of my favorite first class teacher. Except no one would have dreamed of firing Mrs. Malone.

  Damn. I should probably hire a nanny for Catie, I thought. I’d be working, and since it was summer, it wasn’t as if I could send her off to school. I’d rushed to the States so fast I hadn’t considered what lay beyond the immediate future.

  “They kept asking me to do things that were bad for their kid,” Olivia said, true anger leaking into her voice for the first time since she’d stepped on the plane. She clearly didn’t like me. But whatever these parents had done had obviously made her absolutely furious. “They signed Wyatt up for so many activities he developed an ulcer from stress. I didn’t even know an eleven-year-old could get an ulcer. But somehow, I’m the bad guy for refusing to take a crying kid to a violin teacher who yells at him.”

  When she was angry on behalf of a child, she didn’t look annoying. She looked fierce.

  It suited her.

  “How does one hire a nanny?” I asked, figuring I might as well get something useful out of the conversation.

  “You lie and say you’ll respect the nanny’s childcare expertise.” Olivia’s sarcasm would have been more biting if she wasn’t struggling not to yawn.

  Clearly, she wasn’t as used to sleepless nights as I was.

  “Did you respond to an ad online, or did they reach out to you?” I prompted. “I know someone who might need a nanny.” If I told her it was me, she might try to turn the rest of this flight into a job interview. And while she clearly cared about children, I was looking for someone less…her.

  Olivia bent down to root around in her purse. Her shirt road up in the back, showing a swathe of smooth, fair skin. She straightened and handed me a business card. “Here. I’m a vetted nanny with Sunny Days Childcare. Your friend can go online and fill out a form saying what they’re looking for. They’ll send your friend a selection of potential nannies. If your friend’s Irish too, he or she will want to check the box requesting someone who’s willing to travel internationally.”

  “Grand.” I accepted the card and put it in my wallet. Since she’d helped me, and I’d grudgingly given up hope of anything resembling peace and quiet, I figured I could return the favor. Even if she was the worst seatmate in the history of the world. “You know, losing a job can be an opportunity to re-direct your career. Look for ways to improve yourself so it doesn’t happen again.”

  Olivia tilted her head, jaw tense. “Improve myself? Are you saying it’s okay for parents to give their children stress ulcers?”

  I massaged the bridge of my nose, wishing I hadn’t said anything.

  “Or the time before that when—”

  “Wait, how many times have you been fired?” It couldn’t have been more than three, right? No one could possibly get fired that many times without learning their lesson.

  Olivia crossed her arms, mutinous. “None of your business.”

  Fuck. It was more than three. If she wasn’t so annoying, it would have been almost impressive. The eighth wonder of the professional world—the un-hirable woman.

  “At this point, I’d be looking for the common denominator, sweetheart,” I said.

  “How dare you,” she said.

  I hit the call button to summon the flight attendant and reached for my wallet.

  “Yes?” the flight attendant asked when she reached me.

  I handed her a €100 bill. “Please get this woman her damn white wine.” If she’d been up all night, then I was pretty sure that one drink would be enough to make her fall asleep. Maybe then I’d finally have some silence. Already this flight felt longer than the one from Dublin to New York.

  The stewardess took the bill discreetly, then returned with a plastic cup full to the brim of white wine. After some hesitation, Olivia accepted it. Hopefully, that would steady her nerves and, as a bonus, earn me a few minutes of silence.

  “I still think you’re a condescending ass,” she told me. “I’m just drinking it because it would be a waste not to.”

  “Oh my God. Drink the wine, don’t drink the wine… I couldn’t care any less. I get it, you don’t like flying, you’re having a rough day, and you clearly need to vent. It’s just…” I raked a hand over my face. “I really don’t need to hear every bloody thought that runs through your head. Believe it or not, I have a lot on my plate right now, and you’re making it impossible to think straight.”

  Olivia gaped at me, stunned.

  For a moment I wondered if I’d gone too far.

  Then she faced forward, studiously ignoring me and blessedly, silently drank her wine.

  Sometimes going too far is the only thing that gets the job done.

  After about twenty minutes, I glanced over and realized Olivia had fallen asleep. I rescued the half-empty cup from her hands since it was tipping in the general direction of my lap. Next to me, Olivia released a delicate little snore.

  Christ, she can’t even sleep quietly, I thought.

  I nudged her shoulder gently, hoping to jostle her into a position that would result in less snoring.

  It worked. She frowned in her sleep, readjusting her position. I felt a surge of victory, until she shifted and dropped her head down to my shoulder.

  I froze. Her wild, curly hair felt soft against my jaw. I ran through various options for getting her off me, but discarded them all since they came with the risk she’d wake up and start talking again.

  She sighed in her sleep and nestled closer to me.

  Something in my gut liked that. Not that I’d ever admit it.

  I didn’t move for the remainder of the flight. When we landed a half hour later, I rolled my shoulder.

  “Wake up, a chara,” I said gruffly. The term meant friend, unless you were annoyed, in which case…well, it still meant friend, but with a more sarcastic edge. “We’ve landed.”

  Olivia jolted upright. She blinked, taking in the people around us unbuckling and queuing to get off the plane. Her hair was mussed on one side from where she’d fallen asleep on me, and I could see faint lines on her cheek from the texture of my sweater.

  She looked soft like that. Sure, she was chaos incarnate and annoyingly talkative. But there was a sweetness to her when she let her guard down. Someone should protect that.

  Not me, obviously. But someone.

  “Oh my God,” Olivia said. “I’m so sorry I fell asleep on you.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, handing her back her half-drunk plastic cup of wine.

  “I mean, you don’t even like me,” she said. “Either that or you just hate people. And then I went ahead and…” She gestured helplessly to my shoulder, indicating where she’d fallen asleep. Unfortunately, she was holding the wine with the hand she was empathetically gesturing with.

  It sloshed out of the cup and drenched my face.

  This. Fucking. Woman.

  Any sympathy I’d felt for her vanished. In fact, it more than vanished. It curled up in a deep dark hole where no one would ever find it and died a really quick death.

  I wiped the wine off of my face. She stood frozen, blocking the aisle—and my exit.

  “Move.” I took a deep breath. “Out.” Another. “Of. My. Way.”

  “I’m so sorry—”

  No, no more of this.

  “Just move.”

  She flinched and stepped out of the way.

  I shoved past her and sped up the aisle. The only bright side in this whole goddamn day was that I was never going to see Olivia ever again.

  Sinead and Catie lived in half of an old house that had been turned into two apartments. I’d barely knocked when the door opened, and Catie came flying into my arms.

  “Uncle Declan!”

  I dropped my overnight bag, scooped her up, and hugged her tight. She was taller than she’d been at Christmas, but she still had the round cheeks, bright blue eyes, and wispy brown hair I remembered. She clung to me tightly.

  “There, there,” I said softly, rubbing her back. “Your mum has explained that you’re visiting me, right?”

  She nodded, looking worried.

  I tugged her ear, and she giggled.

  “It’ll be brilliant, I promise. Now go get your suitcase. I need to talk to your mum.” I set her down, and she dashed to her room.

  I poked my head in rooms until I found Sinead, sitting in a small, cluttered kitchen. She looked thinner than the last time I saw her—too thin—and her dark hair was lank and lifeless. She was hunched over the kitchen table, but she looked up at my entrance and her stark blue eyes—the same color as mine—looked weary and washed out.

  I sat down in the chair across from her and cleared my throat. “I’ve found a good treatment center nearby. Serenity Lake. They suggested a sixty-day stay.”

  “What? No, that’s too much. I want to do St. Marks for thirty days. It’s cheaper.”

  Damn her stubbornness. I’d throw her over my shoulder and cart her off to Serenity Lake myself if I had to.

  “I don’t care about the cost,” I gritted out. “This one’s better. And I’ve already signed you up.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it and sighed. “Fine. Fine. Thank you.”

  Watching the fight go out of her that fast scared me. It wasn’t like her at all. I reached for her hand. “What happened, love?”

  She pulled away. “It doesn’t matter. I realized I had a problem, so I’m fixing it.”

  I frowned. It did matter, damn it. What she was going through mattered to me. But I didn’t want to push her. Not when she looked like she was barely holding herself together.

  Catie came into the room, dragging her pink-and-purple suitcase behind her. “I’m ready,” she announced.

  Sinead looked toward her daughter. “Did you pack any clothes? Or just toys and books?”

  Catie looked sheepish.

  Sinead stood and took Catie’s suitcase. “I’ll make sure you have everything else you need.” Then she left. I caught her wiping at a tear as she stepped out of my sight.

  Searching for something to distract Catie, I remembered Olivia’s business card in my pocket. “Want to help me pick your new nanny? They’ll look after you while I’m at work, so I want it to be someone you like.”

  Catie hesitated. “Can we find someone whose favorite color is also purple?”

  I smiled, my heart cracking a bit. I wanted to make sure Catie only ever remembered this as a fun summer holiday when she’d been spoiled rotten. “Absolutely,” I promised.

  2

  OLIVIA

  One day after the most unpleasant flight of my life—including the flight where a child threw up on me—I was lying on my couch, re-watching You’ve Got Mail for the millionth time. I was still feeling like crap after being fired for the fifth time in two years, and I needed a comfort movie. And this was the ultimate comfort movie. Tom Hanks, Meg Ryan, and the cutest children’s bookstore in the whole world.

  But today as I watched Tom Hanks flirt with Meg Ryan, introducing her to the adorable kids playing his aunt and his brother, I sat straight up, suddenly realizing I never sent @DBCoder the picture book recommendations he’d asked for. I’d gotten his message when I was stuck on that hellish flight, but had completely forgotten about it, distracted by the rudest seat mate ever.

  Imagine trying to give career advice to a complete stranger, then telling her to shut up when she gently pushed back.

  Sure, his accent had been hot. Okay, all of him had been hot. He’d worn an expensive cable-knit sweater that made him look cuddly and strong at the same time, and brought out the piercing blue of his eyes. His jawline was strong. His hair was thick and dark. His skin was flawless. He looked, frankly, a little photoshopped.

  But no amount of hotness could make up for bad manners, as far as I was concerned. Lusting after a hot, rude guy was a mistake I would have made at 21. Not 28.

  No, at 28 I preferred to focus on fictional men played by Tom Hanks who understood that the way to a woman’s heart was discussing books—and buying books for kids. That was what had brought @DBCoder and me together in the first place.

  I crossed the room to inspect my bookshelf, looking for something new I could recommend to him. There wasn’t much of a room to cross. Since I spent most of my time living with the families I nannied for, my own “apartment” was just the spare room over my friend’s garage that I rented at a deep discount. It had a bed, a toaster oven, and almost enough room for all of my books. I’d amassed quite a collection of titles for kids of all ages, but picture books were definitely my favorite, and I prided myself on being something of a connoisseur. Occupational hazard of being a nanny—if you’re going to read the same book to a toddler fifteen times in a row, you want to stack the deck in your favor by making sure you have books on hand that won’t make you lose your mind. I’d started the @1000words blog on the suggestion of a friend, and it had blossomed into a really fun hobby—which had, in turn, led to some great virtual friendships.

  I was trying to remember if I’d recommended Tacky the Penguin on my book blog yet, when my phone started buzzing. I glanced at the screen and my stomach knotted painfully.

  Sunny Days Childcare. They were probably calling to tell me they were going to drop my nanny profile from their app. They’d threatened to before, but the mom of the first family I’d nannied for had the wealth and influence to convince them to give me another chance.

  Apparently, I’d run out of second chances.

  I took a deep breath, sat down on the rug, and answered my phone. “Hello?”

  “Olivia. This is Vanessa from Sunny Days Childcare. We need some additional information not included on your profile.”

  Wait, I thought. They’re not getting rid of me?

  “Are you right or left-handed?” she asked briskly.

  “Left,” I answered.

  “Which is Eric Carle’s best book?” she asked.

  I blinked. That was a highly specific question. Most people would have said The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which was certainly a good one. But I liked the writing in one of his less popular ones better. “I like Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?”

  “Hmm,” Vanessa said. She didn’t sound happy. I wondered if that had been the wrong answer.

  “What’s your favorite color?” she asked.

  This was such a weird conversation. How could any of this possibly speak to my qualifications as a nanny? “I love all colors,” I said diplomatically. “It’s important to enjoy colors the child likes.”

  “Your favorite color,” she demanded.

  “Purple,” I said.

  “Dammit,” she muttered.

  I let my head thunk back against my bookshelf. It would be just my luck if I got kicked off of their bougie platform because I had the wrong favorite color.

  On the other end of the line, Vanessa gave a long-suffering sigh. “We were going to dismiss you after the feedback from your last clients. But due to the highly detailed mandatory requirements of a new client, you are our only viable option.”

  My heart sped up. I was getting one more chance.

  “If you can get to the airport by 4 p.m. today, the job is yours. But it’s a trial basis only—”

  “Yes!” I interrupted, scrambling to my feet. “Yes, I can be at the airport.”

  “I’ll email you the relevant information,” Vanessa said.

  “Thank you, thank you,” I said. “I won’t let you down.”

  Vanessa’s silence was telling. “This is your last chance, Olivia. So for the love of God, just do what the client asks.”

  She hung up before I could explain that I wasn’t trying to be difficult. The clients just kept asking for dumb things.

  This time will be different, I told myself, as I opened my suitcase and started tossing things in. This time I’d be lucky enough to get a good client, and a great kid, and everything would work out.

  I was waiting in baggage check area, near the Delta sign, where I was supposed to meet my new boss: an uncle who would be taking care of his niece for two months in Ireland, and needed some extra help. But they weren’t here yet. I checked my watch, worried I’d gotten the time wrong.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” a man’s deep voice said behind me. Except he had an Irish accent, so it sounded more like feckin’. A sexy accent that sounded alarmingly familiar.

  “Uncle Declan! That’s a bad word,” a kid’s voice scolded.

  I turned around, my stomach sinking. Sure enough, it was the rude stranger from the plane. He looked about as thrilled to see me as I was to see him.

  He knows I just got fired, I realized, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Why would he want to hire me?

  The kid looked sweet, though. She had her hand in her uncle’s, and she was bouncing on her toes, looking nervously around at the airport.

  Focus on the kid, I reminded myself. I might be bad at pleasing temperamental parents, but I was really, really good at taking care of children.

  I gave the girl a big smile. “Are you Catie Byrne?”

  “Yes! How did you know?”

  “Because I’m your new nanny, Miss Olivia. It’s very nice to meet you.” I squatted down to her level and held out my hand for her to shake. She did.

  “You’re left-handed like me,” she told me. “And from the same city as me. And we have the same favorite color.”