Never Bargain with the Boss (Never Say Never Book 5)
Never Bargain with the Boss: Chapter 12

“Sleepy baby, sleepy baby, go to sleep, go to sleep,” Janey sings to Emmett in a sweet, calm voice. I can hear her down the hallway and can’t help but smile. She’s an amazing mother, even if her impromptu song could use a little lyrical work.

I go to the kitchen, grabbing us both drinks from the refrigerator, and wait for her to get Emmett down. In minutes, she rushes me, grabbing for the strawberry-apricot Red Bull dangling from my fingers. “Ahh, my emotional support Red Bull,” she sighs, popping the top and taking a long swallow. Actually, it’d probably qualify more as a gulp.

“You could shotgun it if you need the caffeine hit that badly,” I quip.

“I went months without these, but after just a few, I’m completely addicted again. I’d mainline it if I could,” she jokes, tapping right below her collarbone. “I gave in when Emmett started cluster feeding a few days ago.”

Ah, that explains it.

Emmett is usually a sleeping pro, but if he’s having a growth spurt and needs near-constant calories, that means he’s probably blissfully snoozing while nursing, and all the while, Janey is awake and alert, getting less sleep than she needs.

“Do you think it’s okay that I’m having one Red Bull a day? The doctor said it is, but still, I worry…” She trails off, eyeing the can in her hand like it’s a rattlesnake poised to attack.

“It’s got the same amount of caffeine as a cup of coffee, you only have one, plus you drink enough water that you probably pee totally clear.” I hold up a hand to stop her from telling me if that’s correct because TMI. “If the doctor says it’s okay, you’re fine,” I reassure her.

“Thanks.” She barely gets the word out before she’s taking another drink.

“What do you want me to do today? Laundry? Clean the kitchen or bathrooms? Watch the monitor so you can shower in peace or take a nap? We should take advantage of the few minutes he’s going to sleep.” I peek at the monitor feed pulled up on her phone. She has it open constantly, often just watching Emmett sleep with a happy smile ghosting across her face.

“Can we talk?” There’s no happy smile now. She leans against the counter like she needs its support to stay vertical.

My heart flip-flops because nothing good ever comes out of a start like that. “Uh, yeah. About what?”

“Literally anything not involving poop, spit-up, nursing, or baby things. I want to talk about adult things… wait, not like adult things.” She giggles in exhaustion, and I give her a reassuring smile. “Unless you want to talk about that. If that’s what’s on your mind, that’s fine,” she clarifies. With a sigh, she finally admits, “I just need to hear about what’s happening outside the walls of this house. Literally anything is fair game. Please.”

I laugh at her gushing outpouring of words. “Bad news there, I literally have zero adult things to discuss, and I think Cole would kill me if you shared anything about your sex life.” She nods like ‘yeah, that’s true.’ “But do you want to see the pants I found thrifting? They’re this amazing plaid and I had quite the surprising model for them.”

I pull up the picture on my phone that shows Grace in her redone skirt, me in my cat t-shirt, and Cameron in the ridiculous pants, and flip it around to show Janey. Her jaw falls open as she rips the phone from my hand to get a closer look.

“Are you serious? How did you get Cameron to do that? Blackmail? Threats? Drugs? Or is it AI?” Her eyes are scouring the picture of the three of us like she might find a tell-tale sixth finger or blurred background, but she won’t find anything other than a real photo taken in the family room. There’s not even an auto-correct filter run on the image.

It’d been Grace’s idea, a memory of a fun day, and though she’d had to sweet-talk Cameron into taking the picture with the pants on, he’d done it. For her.

I understand now why he’s so wrapped around Grace’s finger. She literally saved him from the depths of despair, and in return, he wants to make her as happy as possible. It’s noble, and though that’s not a word I’d typically use given it’s the Twenty-First Century, it’s true.

I think the picture is my new favorite. I’d make it my phone’s lock screen, except that’d be weird since it’s my boss and my charge, not my actual family. But I don’t have one of those, and it’d be kinda cool to see us happily smiling rather than a generic wallpaper that came with the phone.

“Grace talked him into the picture,” I explain.

“Not that. The pants!” she exclaims. “Was that Grace too?” When I shake my head with a self-satisfied smirk, she gawks at me. “How in the hell did you do that?”

“Asked nicely?” I suggest, not sounding sure. Honestly, I’m not sure how I did it. I did ask. I also gave him a pleading look and said please, and then suddenly, he agreed, though I know how out of his comfort zone the request was.

He’s been dipping out of his comfort zone a lot lately.

The little devil in my ear doesn’t sound like Miller anymore, but he’s just as suggestive. Cameron has been different from how he was when I first arrived. He’s smiling, laughing, and he played tag with me, leaving my flabbers downright gasted. I fully expected him to abandon me in the yard like a childish idiot. But he hadn’t, and we’d had fun. I don’t think he usually has fun. But his serious, staid, uptight façade is starting to crack, which is good for him. And Grace.

I think that might be the reason I’m here—to help both of them find joy again in the wake of their loss. Cameron’s been on autopilot for a long time, and while he’s done a fantastic job with Grace, they both deserve more—more sunshine, more silliness, and a whole lot more happiness.

“I’m sure asking was all it took,” Janey says, making it sound a hell of a lot more suggestive than I did. I can feel the heat of a flush on my cheeks, and she grins knowingly. “Damn, girl, okay… Cameron?” Her meaning is clear as day, and I rush to argue, but she’s on another one of her verbal rolls. “I mean, he’s good-looking, obviously. All the Harringtons are. Lucky bastards won the genetic lottery, but he’s so…” She stands upright, spine straight, arms crossed, and face expressionless other than a slight frown in a near-perfect imitation of Cameron’s usual demeanor. “I guess there’s someone for everyone, though. I mean, look at me and Cole.”

This is getting out of hand, fast.

“It’s not like that,” I say, trying to sound assertive but coming off a bit desperate. “We’re just getting to know each other, talking about life and stuff, you know? Like about my foster families and how I came to be a nanny, and Grace and Michelle.”

Something I’ve said sets her off. Though she keeps an eye on me, she speed-walks to her phone and pushes a single button. Instantly, the call connects and though it’s not on speaker, in the quiet room, I can hear Cole say, “Yeah, I heard that.”

They are weird. And creepy. And all up in each other’s business, apparently to the point of eavesdropping on conversations. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t share anything too X-rated or personal. I’m sure Cole would love to hear about my period cramps or how long it’s been since I had any adult activities.

Janey’s gray eyes stay on me, but she’s listening to Cole, who I can’t hear now, but he’s obviously talking because Janey’s nodding along with something. “Okay, I’ll ask. Love you.”

She hangs up, and the air in the room changes, going heavy. I feel like I’m in trouble and getting interrogated by the police, but I haven’t done anything wrong. Or at least I don’t think I have. But family dynamics can be messy, so maybe I’ve done something unknowingly?

“What do you know about Cameron’s wife?” she says carefully.

“Michelle?” I clarify, and she flinches, her hand going to her chest to grip invisible pearls like I’ve said something offensive. “Just that she passed away in a car accident a long time ago. That’s mostly it.”

He said so much more than that, but that’s between me and Cameron. If he wants to share with others, he will, but I already feel like I’ve said too much and implied something unintentional, so I’m keeping the rest of our conversation on lockdown.

She exhales loudly, her eyes wide. “That’s it?” she repeats. “That’s it? Are you serious? Cameron doesn’t even say her name and you’re going around throwing it out like it’s Beyonce, like it’s something everyone knows and says easily. I didn’t even know who you were talking about for a second because I’ve never heard her called anything other than ‘Grace’s mom’ or ‘Cameron’s wife’.”

What? He doesn’t say her name? I’m surprised by that… because he did. The rest of his story felt like something deeply personal, but just her name is a big deal?

“Uh, well… maybe I shouldn’t have said anything then…” I stammer, trying to backpedal as fast as I can.

Janey shakes her head, her red curls bouncing all over the place. “You should say more, a lot more,” she counters. Then, like she’s not talking to me, but rather the room—or maybe Cole?—she paces and mutters, “He’s talking about her. That’s good. Really good, right? It has to be.”

I think she’s lost it. But when she glances over, peering at me like I’m a bug under a microscope, her eyes are clear and thoughtful.

“Is everything okay?” I venture hesitantly.

She paces a few more steps, but I think the exhaustion must hit her because she flops to the couch, her legs askew and her head thrown back on a pillow. “Yeah, better than okay… I think.” I give her a doubtful look and she sighs. “Look, Cameron’s cold, ruthless, and basically emotionless, except where Grace is concerned. Everyone else, especially people outside the family? Basically, he barely tolerates them. He finds most people to be inconsequential and worthless… again, unless it’s for Grace or the family.”

“You’re making him sound like a total asshole,” I snap.

“All the brothers are assholes in their own ways, but Cameron’s like the Mack Daddy of them.” She laughs at her own joke, but I’m offended on Cameron’s behalf.

Janey is the closest thing to a friend I have here, and I shouldn’t be snippy with her, but my protective nature is rising up. “Maybe he just likes me enough to actually be nice.”

Janey’s not put off in the slightest by my tone. In fact, she looks at me like ‘duh’. “That’s what I’m saying. I think he likes you. And that’s a good thing. Probably.”

“Oh.” My entire defensive line-up of arguments melts away at her explanation, and I sag into the chair across from her. “Uh, well… good. I’m glad we agree, then.”

A smile blooms on her face slowly, like everything I’ve said is sinking in. “Welcome to the family,” she teases. “It’s a wild ride, but it’s a good one.”

“I’m not family,” I argue. “Just the nanny.”

Even as I say it, there’s a pinch in my chest. It’s the truth, and while I’ve been ‘like family’ for lots of people over the years, admitting that this time hurts a little more than usual. More than it should, for sure.

Because I’m not family the way Janey is. I’ll be here for a short while, and then, like always, I’ll drift on to another job, another place, another family who needs me. I’m going to miss them, though—Cole and Janey and Emmett, Grace, Cameron. Especially Grace and Cameron.

I don’t get the chance to tell her that, though, because Emmett’s cries ring out through the house and Janey instantly jumps up, running for the nursery.

Alone in the living room, I replay everything Janey’s told me, trying to make sense of it. But my phone buzzes in my back pocket. Pulling it out, I see that it’s a message from Cole.

Don’t hurt him.

I snort out a laugh. As if I, Riley Stefano, could hurt a man like Cameron Harrington. I lift a brow, glaring at the camera in the corner of the room, trusting that Cole’s watching for my reaction to his text.

A second later, another one comes through.

Don’t let him hurt you either.

I lick my lips because that’s entirely possible. Plausible, even, because I’m in too deep with Grace, with Cameron, with the Harringtons.

I’m a runner. Always have been, always will be. The open road tempts me with new adventures, and I go, too afraid to put roots in deep where they’ll get ripped out anyway. But this family is tempting. The way they love each other, as imperfect as they are, and support one another, even when things are rough. It’d be nice to be a part of something like this.

But that’s not my destiny. It never was and never will be.

The best I can do is enjoy the hell out of it while I have the chance, knowing it’ll be good memories when it’s time to move on.