BareBottomGirl (2 page)

So Greer was back home, buying bread and cat food for her
mother. After picking up her purchases, she headed for the doors, but something
made her stop at the bulletin board, a collage of community announcements.
Soccer games, church fundraisers, puppies and ponies for sale, and then she saw
it. The announcement wasn’t big or fancy, just a simple computer
printout—housekeeper and part-time nanny needed.
Older woman preferred
.

Natch.

Greer tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and started to
walk on.

Screw that. Backing up a step, she looked at the ad again.
No little number tabs to pull off, and of course she didn’t have a pen. With a
glance over each shoulder, she yanked the tack out and stuffed the paper in her
grocery bag.

On the way to her dad’s truck, she considered what she might
have to offer for the job. She liked kids, and heaven only knew she’d had
plenty of experience along the maid and cook line. She’d just ignore the older
woman part. Age was a relative thing. She was almost twenty-five. She was older
than—well someone.

A few miles down the highway, she turned onto the narrow
county road leading to her family’s home. Greer’s eyes strayed to the stone
pillars and iron gates leading to a big brick mansion set on the hill. Not her
home. It was the Carles’ place.

She’d sneaked all over the back of their property as a kid,
playing in the creek and swinging from the grapevines in the woods. In her more
Walter Mitty-ish moments, she’d pretended she lived there. Somehow it seemed
better than the old log cabin tucked into a holler along a back road. Great.
Now she was channeling
Coal Miner’s Daughter
. Her parents weren’t poor.
Her dad was an attorney. They just liked a quiet, modest home. A really old,
quiet, modest home.

As soon as she’d parked the pickup under the shed and put
away the purchases for her mother, Greer folded the ad in her hand and slipped
down the hall to her room. Once inside, she scanned it again. A local number,
no address, or any real information about how many children she might be
expected to look after.

Well, it was now or never. Her mom and dad would be home in
an hour, and she sure would like to be able to tell them she had a job
interview. Clearing her throat, Greer practiced making her voice sound deeper
and older. When she was sure it was as good as she could make it, she grabbed
the phone and dialed.

It rang and rang and rang. Greer sighed. Figured. Just as
she was about to hit the Off button, a deep, male voice barked, “Hello?”

In the background she heard what sounded like her dad’s air
compressor.

“I’m calling about the job you had advertised.”

“You from the agency?”

“Uh…no. This was an ad on the board in the Kroger.”

The air compressor noise stopped. “So you’re from around
here?”

Now the voice was decidedly friendlier, deep and warm. Greer’s
hand relaxed on the phone. “Yes.”

“Tell me about your experience.”

This was the tricky part. She didn’t need to mention how
long she’d worked at any of her positions. “I’ve worked as a maid and caregiver
for an elderly woman. I’ve also done housekeeping and kitchen duties for a local
bed and breakfast—”

“When can you come for an interview? This evening?”

Greer swallowed, almost unable to believe her luck. Thinking
quickly about when she might be able to get the car… “Would eight be too late?”

“Perfect. Let me give you the address.”

As he rattled it off, Greer’s brow knitted. That wasn’t very
far away at all. She’d Google it as soon as they got done.

“What’s your name?”

“Greer—”

“Well, Mrs. Greer, we’ll look forward to seeing you at eight
this evening.”

“All right, but—”

She heard a click on the other end before she could correct
him about the name. It also occurred to her, she hadn’t gotten his name. Dumb.
No wonder she had such a hard time finding work. Her hands were shaking a
little, so Greer pressed them against her pants legs and took a deep, calming
breath. Before she forgot it, she scribbled the address, snatched the paper and
sat at her laptop.

She plugged the address in and watched familiar road
intersections pop up in the satellite photo showing a mixture of farmland and
woods with the ribbon of the Ohio River at the edge. As the address flag
appeared, her heart skipped a beat. Zooming in, she caught her breath. The
Carle estate? Oh shit.

Greer made a grab for the phone again to call back and
cancel. Then she recalled the man’s voice on the other end. He’d sounded nice,
not stuffy or snobby. If his wife was nice too… She withdrew her hand and
swallowed nervously. If they needed a nanny, maybe they’d want her to stay
there. Greer took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She loved her mom and dad. They’d been great since the
accident, not putting pressure on her, but Greer needed a change, needed to be
able to get out on her own. She was ready.

Older woman preferred.

Not much she could do about that, except dress
conservatively.

By the time she reached the call box at the iron gates with
their ornate C design emblazoned on each side, her hands shook so much she
could barely press the button. No one answered. The gates simply swung inward
to allow her in. Evening shadows stretched across the wide expanse of manicured
lawn, making Greer wonder why this household would even be in need of more
servants. And why stick an ad on the bulletin board in the grocery? Were the
children all rich, spoiled little brats?

She parked under the shade of several large beech trees,
swallowing a little nervously and hoping her throat wasn’t so dry she wouldn’t
be able to talk. For good measure, she practiced her more mature sounding
voice. Maybe it would help. Smoothing her hands down her dark skirt, Greer
adjusted the collar of her blouse to be sure nothing other than the hollow of
her throat was visible.

After letting the door knocker fall, her gaze darted over
the house’s façade. When the door opened, she had to look up a long way.

“Mrs. Greer?” The outright doubt in the tall, golden-haired
man’s voice made her spine stiffen.

“Greer’s my first name,” she said. “You disconnected before
I could tell you my last name. It’s Davidson.”

He smiled, and it seemed to her there was just a touch of
smirk to it, but the expression in his gaze was warm enough. Strange. “Well
come on in, Greer Davidson. I’m Chas Lynch, not the person you spoke to by the
way. I think Liam will be surprised.”

There was a hint of laughter in the man’s voice, and it made
Greer’s nerves flutter. Nothing about this seemed amusing to her. What the hell
was she getting into? And who was this guy—the butler?

As he led the way through a hallway stretching nearly the
full length of the house, Greer’s eyes widened. She stared at the spacious
formal rooms and the broad staircase ascending to an overhead landing. The
house was even larger inside than it appeared from the exterior.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Ms. Davidson, just how old are
you?”

Her glance darted to his laughing blue eyes. “Almost twenty-five.”

Now she did hear a chuckle. “How almost is almost?”

Greer raised her chin. “Next month.”

He nodded, a smile still making his lips twitch. “Liam will
be with us in just a moment. He was working in his studio and wanted to clean
up.”

He opened a door and stepped aside to allow her to precede
him into the room. Greer glanced around, quickly absorbing the feel of rich
wood paneling, polished furniture and beautiful paintings. Her stomach rolled.
What was she doing here? This was so far beyond anything she was accustomed to,
even Mrs. Henry couldn’t compare.

“Have a seat. May I call you Greer?”

“Yes.” She saw his medical diplomas on the wall behind the
desk. “You’re Dr. Lynch?”

“Chas,” he corrected in an easy tone. Instead of taking a
seat behind the desk, he pulled his chair around to the side where he could sit
closer to her. Wow. Mr. Bedside Manner.

Greer tried to keep her hands still in her lap, but found
she was biting her lip instead. Too many doctors had figured prominently in her
life the last few years.

“Are you nervous?” Chas asked. “We won’t bite.”

Greer chose to ignore that. “Mr…” She halted, realizing she
didn’t know the last name of the man he called Liam.

“Carle,” Chas murmured. “Liam Carle’s who you spoke to.”

She didn’t know why she hadn’t made the connection earlier. “L-Lee
Carle? The sculptor?”

“That’s me.” The voice was even warmer in person. “Who might
you be?”

Chas rose, chuckling as he waved a hand at her. “This is Ms.
Davidson. Greer Davidson.”

Lee’s dark brows rose, his warm brown gaze lingering for a
moment on his friend before switching to her and cooling like whiskey on the
rocks. “You’re Mrs. Greer?”

Feeling at a disadvantage with both men towering over her,
Greer stood. It didn’t help much. They still towered over her.

“Yes, I’m Greer Davidson.”

“Is this a joke? Some prank for your college sorority?” The
warmth was leaving Lee’s voice too.

“No.” She swallowed, her gaze shifting to the doctor. “You-you
hung up. Before I could give you my full name. And,” she took a deep breath, “I’m
not in college. I’m twenty-five.”

“Almost,” Chas said.

Liam’s brows drew together as he glanced at him. “Almost?”

“Next month.” Chas smiled.

Liam swung his gaze back to her, looking her over as if she
were a biology experiment gone wrong. “What about all the experience you told
me about on the phone?”

It came out as an accusation, as if she’d lied. Okay. That
pissed her off.

“I’ve done everything I told you.”

He raked a hand through hair that had fallen over his brow
and snorted in disgust. “Well obviously not for very long.” He turned to his
friend with a frown. “It appears, Chas, that neither one of us is having much
luck. Everyone from the agency you contacted has been a bust, and…”

She knew where this was headed…and so was she. Greer grabbed
her purse. Okay, so they weren’t going to hire her. It didn’t mean she had to
wait around to be insulted.

“I’ll see myself out.”

She didn’t wait to hear anymore, paid no attention to Dr.
Lynch or Lee Carle. Screw it. Maybe she could get a job with one of the
cleaning services. As her heels clipped along the hard wood of the hallway, it
was all she could do to keep herself from running toward the front door. Her
parents had been so thrilled when she told them where she was headed.

What a joke.

She shut the door quietly behind her, but that was the end
of her stoicism. Greer ran to her car, tossed her purse on the passenger seat,
and slid behind the wheel. Only when she raised her hands to turn the key in
the ignition did she realize she was shaking. Everything was all right. It was
just a job interview. One she’d bombed. Greer rolled the window down and made
herself sit, sucking in deep breaths to keep from panicking.

Shit. It wasn’t working.

It happened anytime she got stressed. Hadn’t happened in
quite some time, so she thought she’d gotten beyond the panic attacks. Greer
gripped the steering wheel as though her life depended on it, but the more she
tried to regain control, the more she lost. Sweat popped on her brow. She felt
smothered and dropped her head against the seat while she gasped for air.

The car door yanked open and strong arms pulled her out.
Greer went into freefall, totally losing it and not even aware who grabbed her.
She shoved blindly, still gasping, but the more she panted the more panicked
she got. She needed to breathe.

Whoever had pulled her out was gone. A voice penetrated her
fog.

“Are you asthmatic?”

She shook her head. “P-panic at-tack.”

“You’re safe, Greer. It’s Dr. Lynch. Will you let me help
you?”

She nodded, her fists clenched to her chest as she tried to
get air.

“Look at me.”

She raised her gaze, meeting calm, blue eyes. Even through
her panic, something in his expression connected deep inside her.

“I’m going to count and you’re going to breathe with me.
One-two. Breathe in. One-two. Breathe out. With me?”

It took a while. He gradually extended his counting. As her
breathing slowed and her heart settled, he smiled and touched her
shoulder—touched
that
shoulder—but she didn’t panic again, and she was
proud.

“Why don’t you walk with me? I’ll show you the barn and even
Liam’s studio, if he doesn’t mind.”

“That’s fine.” Liam answered from off to one side. Greer
darted a glance at him, saw his face was pale and his expression tense. Her
breathing started to accelerate.

“Greer. Pay attention to me. We’re walking now, okay?” Dr.
Lynch took her hand in his, tucked it next to the crook of his elbow and set
off. She knew Liam followed, but he kept his distance. Greer wanted to tell him
she was sorry, wanted to tell them both, but she couldn’t get it out.

“Breathe, Greer, and keep counting. It will help.”

She clutched the doctor’s arm as if it were a lifeline and
simply listened to his soothing voice, ever conscious of the man who followed a
couple of steps behind them.

“This is the barn. We have two horses, mostly pasture
ornaments, but they get ridden every once in a while. We’ve talked about
getting a pony for Wyatt, that’s Liam’s son, but he’s only three. You like
kids?”

She nodded. She’d done a lot of babysitting as a teenager to
earn extra money, but she’d enjoyed the job too. Little kids, really little,
didn’t judge you. Most of them just wanted to know you’d keep them safe, feed
them, play with them and give them a hug. Greer could do that.

Dr. Lynch took her inside. Two heads poked over the stall
doors. The horses whickered softly. “Want to pet them?”

She turned him loose. Her hands were nearly steady as she
stroked a silken neck, touched her fingers to a velvety nose.

“Do you have medication to take, Greer?” His voice was so
easy, so soothing.

“I-I quit.” She started to say she didn’t need it, but that
was hardly the truth anymore. She started to shake again, worried she would end
up back where she’d been five years ago.

“Would you like to see my studio?” Not warm, Liam’s voice
was now cautious, but Greer met his gaze as steadily as she could. She took a
deep breath. A chance to see Lee Carle’s studio was beyond amazing. It was a
bucket-list opportunity. She had more faith in bucket lists than she once had.

“I would.”

Liam took her arm this time, tucking her hand in the crook
of his arm, making her feel for a minute like she’d stepped back in time. Greer
darted a glance at him. Hair just a little too long, jaw shadowed with beard.
She wanted to touch it, see if it felt scratchy or soft. He tilted his head,
met her look, and she felt heat stain her cheeks. Dr. Lynch followed behind
them.

When Liam swung the door wide on another building that
looked like it might once have been a greenhouse and gardener’s shed, Greer
gasped. A huge stone sculpture of a horse was in progress, more than half its
body already emerging from the stone.

“It’s beautiful!” She moved forward, panic forgotten in her
desire to touch it. As she reached toward it, she stopped at the last instant
and looked back over her shoulder. “May I?”

Liam smiled, his brown eyes lighting with warmth. “Of
course. This is a commission for the Children’s Museum. I’m sure it will have
lots of hands touching it. Yours can be the first.”

It was a gift, and one she’d cherish. Lee Carle was a name
that would go near Rodin or Calder or Remington. Only none of her textbooks had
mentioned where he lived, and she’d never made the connection to the Carle
estate.

The stone felt warm, as if the sun had heated it during the
day, and it still held onto that. As she ran her hands over the curves and
planes, Greer’s tension eased and the last of the panic faded away as if it had
never happened. At last, she faced the two men. They stood next to each other,
watching her.

“I’m sorry,” Greer said. “I embarrassed you and me. Thanks
for helping me, for being so patient.” She looked around awkwardly. “I guess I
should go.”

“Don’t.” Liam spoke, his expression briefly mirroring his
own surprise that he’d spoken. “Could we start over?”

Greer shifted nervously from foot to foot. “You…why? I mean,
you couldn’t possibly want to hire me.”

Liam arched a brow. “I don’t really know that yet, do I? We
haven’t interviewed you.”

“Come back to the house,” Dr. Lynch said. “We’ll get
something to eat and drink, then sit in the kitchen to talk.”

Greer couldn’t believe her luck. With a nod to both of them,
she said, “Thanks.”

Chas sighed with relief. From the moment he’d laid eyes on
her, something had shifted inside him. He’d been afraid when she’d fled his
office she would be gone for good. Thank God for that panic attack. Though he
was determined to discover the cause behind it, right now he was just grateful
she was still here, that she’d consented to talk to them.

He stepped forward and extended his hand. She smiled shyly
as she took it. She was delicate, an elf compared to the gorgons they’d already
interviewed, but deep behind those dove-gray eyes of hers, he sensed a kindness
that would be good for Wyatt. Maybe good for all of them. Liam had enough
bitch-from-hell working in his life having to deal with his ex. Chas’ gaze
shifted to Liam. This was the man who made his heart beat faster, whose touch
could arouse or relax him, depending on their mood.

“Shall we?” Liam stood near the door, his hand on the light
switch. It was rare he actually allowed anyone inside his studio, let alone
touch a work in progress. As Chas passed his lover, he arched a brow
inquiringly. Liam ignored him. It seemed Chas wasn’t the only one intrigued by
their nanny candidate.

Once inside the kitchen, Chas pointed to the table. “Have a
seat, Greer. Liam, why don’t you get some coffee started. I think we have some
leftover cannoli. Would you like some?”

Greer looked a little overwhelmed. “I’ve never had them
before, but I’ll try one.”

Liam turned from the coffeemaker and grinned. “Thatta girl.
That’s the attitude we take with Wyatt.”

Greer’s cheeks turned pink. Chas smiled as he set a plate in
front of her and handed her a napkin. “I think they’re easier to just eat like
a hot dog.”

She picked it up, her tongue flicking out to taste the
creamy filling oozing from the end. Chas was glued to what she was doing, not
even trying to fight the way his cock was swelling. Wow. What a switch. He
glanced at Liam and found him equally enthralled. Interesting. They’d talked
casually before about their interest in women, but never acted on it. Never
been inclined to, and now he was lusting after the first nanny candidate who
didn’t look as if she chewed nails for breakfast.

Chas sat to hide his bulge. “Why don’t you tell us about
where you’ve worked.”

Greer sneaked a glance at Liam. “I really have worked all
the places I mentioned. I know it seems a lot for my age, but,” she sighed, “I
seem to have really rotten luck. You know, maybe you shouldn’t hire me, Dr.
Lynch.”

“Chas,” he corrected. “Chas and Liam. What makes you say
that?”

Liam set mugs of coffee in front of them. “Do you need cream
or sugar?”

She shook her head. “Well, I started out working for Mrs.
Henry.”

“The Henry family with the Thoroughbred farm?” Liam
inquired.

“That’s the one. She was nice enough to hire me. I helped
her around the house, ran errands for her, and cooked.”

“She died of a stroke in her sleep, didn’t she?” Liam
continued.

“Yes. I had the weekend off to go to a wedding, so I wasn’t
there. Anyway, when she passed, I was out of work. Then I got a job at the
Woodwind waitressing.”

Liam’s eyes shut before he asked blandly, “How long before
the highway project closed it?”

“Six months.”

Chas was starting to see a pattern. “Where did you go then?”

“You know the B and B the couple from New York made the big
splash about?”

Chas grimaced. “Even I remember that. The one the river
flooded out. Jesus, Greer. You’ve had a rough time of it. What was your major
in college?”

He watched the vitality just evaporate, like it had drained
right out of her in one big whoosh. Her glance darted to Liam and away again.
Interesting.

“I didn’t finish.”

“You could always go back,” Liam said.

She shook her head. Seeing the panic start to enter her
expression again, Chas grabbed her hand reassuringly. “What made you interested
in the job here?” he asked trying to divert her.

“Well, it seemed to fit with a lot of my experience, and I
saw it was a local phone number…”

“You also saw we preferred an older woman,” Liam added. “Is
that why you tried to make yourself sound older on the phone?”

Greer sipped her coffee and glanced at the half-eaten
cannoli. “Yes. But I would be good at this. I like kids and I’ve had a lot of
experience as a babysitter. I can keep a house, and I’m a pretty decent cook.”

“We have a cleaning service that comes in once a week
already to do the heavy stuff,” Liam continued. “Even so, we want someone
live-in, which is why we were looking for an older woman.”

Liam liked her, Chas could tell, so why was his friend
trying to shut her down? None of the people who’d come from the agency he’d
contacted had her combination of skills. They were either maids or caregivers,
and it had been obvious the older women they’d talked to weren’t willing to
make adjustments.

“Uh, Liam,” Chas slipped in. “Why don’t we talk about this
and get back to her?” He looked at Greer. “Would living here be an issue for
you?”

She shook her head. “No. My parents aren’t far from here,
but I know they’d be okay with it.”

Chas stood. “Great. Let Liam and me talk about it, and we’ll
give you a call tomorrow.”

She picked up on the cue and stood. Her glance at Liam was a
little worried. Chas took her arm and led her through the house, giving her a
brief tour as he did so. This time when they reached her car, she turned to
him. “I’m not going to get it, am I? Is it because I freaked out?”

Chas couldn’t help himself. He tucked a lock of her short,
dark hair behind her ear. “Greer, we haven’t made a decision. You
are
younger than what we’d discussed, but that’s not equal to no.”

He took a deep breath. As a physician, he felt he had to
reach out to her. “About what happened. I could give you the name of a
colleague of mine…”