Never Bargain with the Boss (Never Say Never Book 5)
Never Bargain with the Boss: Chapter 6

After school, I follow the GPS to the barn where Grace has horseback riding lessons, and when I pull in, she tells me where to park. “You can sit in your car if you want. Or you could watch?” She says it casually, but she cuts her eyes toward a fenced-in area I can see in the distance. She wants me there.

“I’d love to watch you,” I assure her genuinely. “Tell me where to go and show me whatcha got.” She’s been doing that for the last couple of days already, but based on her excitement to get to the barn, I have a feeling I’m about to see a new side of Grace, and I can’t wait.

“Really?” Her smile is wide and filled with joy, and she virtually leaps from the car. “Come on! You can meet my horse, Pegasus, and the barn cat, Cricket. He tried to ride on Pegasus’s back one time and it was so funny. That’s how Pegasus got his name, because he was literally flying, trying to get Cricket off him.”

Her exuberant chatter carries us into a large barn, where I see rows of half-doors on either side of a wide aisle. Grace runs up to one stall and stops. “Hey, Pegasus,” she coos, her entire energy changing and her voice calming as she greets the horse, who answers her with a whinny. “This is Riley. She’s my new nanny. Yeah, another one.” She rolls her eyes like she and Pegasus have had this conversation countless times before.

As I come up to the door beside Grace, I see the horse for the first time. Pegasus is huge, or seems like it to me, but I’ve never been around horses, so what do I know? He’s beautiful, dark brown with white socks on all four legs and a long black mane and tail, and his nose is wiggling, scenting the air. I hold my hand out, letting the horse sniff me too. He seems friendly, so after a moment, I risk gently rubbing above his nose. When he presses into my touch, I gasp, feeling like a Disney princess. “I think he likes me,” I whisper to Grace.

“He kinda likes everyone,” she says, ruining my fantasy. Totally comfortable with the horse, she pets along his neck and tells him, “I’m gonna get you out of here, ’kay? But let me show Riley where to sit first.” She waves for me to follow her, and I do, though I walk while she runs.

Back outside, she leads me to a set of bleachers set beside a big ring surrounded in white fencing. “You can sit here.” I do as instructed, taking a seat high enough to be able to see everything. Grace nods her approval. “I need to change and get Pegasus ready for my lesson. That’s part of my responsibilities.”

I can’t help but smile at her excitement. “Do your thing. I’ll be right here.”

When she disappears back into the barn once again, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, enjoying the warm sunshine on my face and the beginning hints of fall in the air.

“Can I help you?” a voice asks.

My eyes pop open and I see a guy in faded jeans, a blue T-shirt, and a cowboy hat. His face is tanned like he spends a lot of time in the sun, but I’d still estimate him to be in his twenties. Resting one booted foot on the edge of the bleacher, he lets a friendly gaze skim over me like he’s trying to figure out what I’m doing here, which is understandable given my leopard print skirt and tennis shoes don’t exactly scream ‘cowgirl’ the way his dusty, work-worn outfit says ‘cowboy’ loud and clear.

“Oh, hi. I’m Riley, Grace’s new nanny.”

Tipping his hat, he says, “Nice to meet you, Riley. I’m Miller, Grace’s coach.”

“Nice to meet you too. She should be right back with Pegasus. She was very clear that getting him ready for her lesson was part of her job.”

He chuckles as he glances toward the barn. “That it is.” When his eyes find me again, he says, “I’ve been on vacation but heard Grace had family bringing her for lessons. Guess another nanny bit the dust?” There’s a cynical tone to the question, like he’s seen it all before.

“Seems so,” I answer, “because I’m here now.”

He licks his lips slowly, a smile blooming on one side of his mouth. “That you are. Too bad those Harringtons go through hired help faster than I can go through a six-pack of beer on a Friday night.” He pats his flat stomach, and despite the complete lack of a beer belly, I get the sense that he can put a six-pack down.

“So I’ve heard,” I say, good-naturedly acknowledging the truth of their previous hires and fires.

“Miller! You’re back!” Grace yells, grabbing both of our attention.

She’s dressed similarly to Miller except in place of a hat, she’s wearing a helmet. She’s beaming as she leads Pegasus by a leash. Okay, I’m sure that’s not what it’s called, but I don’t know its actual name. The horse now has a blue blanket and a brown saddle on his back and matching brown leather straps over his nose and around his head.

As I have these thoughts, I realize that I have a lot to learn about horses if they’re this important to Grace. I didn’t know a thing about volleyball before Jordan made the team, but there was no doubt I was going to be her loudest cheerleader, so I put in the effort to learn, and I will do the same for Grace.

Even if it’s only for a few months.

Grace starts to run and Pegasus follows her direction, trotting alongside her. “Did you meet Riley?”

Miller flashes me a bright smile. “I did. She’s already better than Beatrice. Didn’t ask for my birthday” —he drops his voice, talking out of the side of his mouth— “May seventeenth.” Back in his normal tone, he says, “Or how much a cowboy makes? And if I’m single?” Lower again, he mumbles, “Not enough. And as a Pringle if you want to grab a beer Friday.” He tacks on a practiced wink to the nonchalant invite before turning to Grace. “Maybe try to keep this one around a little longer? I like pink.” He lifts his eyes to my hair, and unconsciously, I reach up to push it behind my ear.

I fight not to smile, but he’s easily charming me and Grace simultaneously. She even laughs outright as she promises, “I’ll do my best. Come on, I want to show you what Shana taught me while you were gone. Wait till you see my canter.”

I have no idea what a canter is, but if Grace wants to show it off to her coach, I want to see it too.

“Well, get in there and warm up then,” Miller instructs, gesturing toward the ring.

And though Grace goes in the ring, Miller stays by me, both of us watching as she begins making slow loops around the fence line.

“What do you think so far?” When I tear my eyes away from Grace, glancing at Miller in confusion, he clarifies, “About the Harringtons.”

This feels like a loaded question, but I’m not sure if he’s a spy gaining intel for Cameron or a fellow Harrington employee wanting to dish about the boss. It could go either way, but honesty is always a good policy. So is humor, though…

“Grace’s aura is blue and sparkly, like her eyes. Cameron’s is more charcoal gray, like a staid suit.” Even with his hat pulled down, I can see Miller’s eyebrows climb high, and I chuckle. “Gotcha. I don’t know a thing about auras, but I heard the last nanny was a star sign girl.”

“Thank fuck. I thought you were a Beatrice 2.0 there for a second.” He laughs, good-natured about the tease. “She tried to give me a piece of rose quartz one time, said it was a symbol of love.” He pauses dramatically, making sure I’m ready for this, and then grins. “Only problem was, it was a chunk of one of the horses’ salt licks, not a crystal or rock at all. She wasn’t too happy when I told her that.” He shakes his head, feigning sadness but not doing a very good job of hiding the grin lifting his lips.

“Probably because she was trying to flirt with you. I mean, you don’t go around giving rose quartz to just anyone. Well, I presume not, anyway. I wouldn’t actually know.”

“One point, Riley.” He draws a tally mark in the air, and then we both turn our attention back to Grace. “Looking good. Take it up to a trot, but drop your shoulders a little, keep ’em steady.”

I watch Grace adjust her posture and guide Pegasus into a faster gait.

“Seriously, though? The Harringtons?” Miller asks, obviously not letting this go, so I decide to reveal a bit more.

“Grace is a riot. Her energy is infectious, and she’s so animated about everything.” I can feel the smile stretching my face as I watch her. It’s like she’s becoming one with Pegasus, and when they pass us by, I wave and give her two thumbs up. “Get it, girl!”

“And Mr. Harrington?”

“Cameron’s great too,” I reply, cutting my eyes his way because it feels like he’s looking for a specific answer, but I’m not quite sure what it is.

Miller’s lips turn down the slightest bit. “Ah, got it. You’re one of those.” He sounds… disappointed? But I don’t know why.

“One of what?” I ask carefully.

“The nannies talk, you know?” He smiles, but it feels forced and empty, not like the friendly one he gave before, and as he speaks, he keeps his eyes on Grace, not sparing me a glance. “They start like Pollyannas, with high hopes and naïve stars in their eyes, but they soon learn that Harrington’s a cold, demanding, asshole of a boss who’ll expect you to be at his beck and call twenty-four, seven, three sixty-five, and will never give you a single compliment, praise, or raise. As wild as Grace is, he’s the main reason the nannies keep leaving.”

Miller doesn’t sound angry about that, more like he’s giving me a sneak peek behind the curtains of my new job, lest I be under any illusions of it being a cushy deal. And though it’s not my place, I feel the need to defend Cameron despite having had a similar thought when I first met him and Grace. “Thanks for the warning, but I assure you, I’m as far from a Pollyanna as one can be. And while Cameron’s not effusively gushing about how awesome I am… yet,” I say, emphasizing that, “it’s only been a couple of days, so he’s got time to truly appreciate my amazingness.”

Miller nods his head slowly, then leans my way to oh-so-casually add, “He also doesn’t fuck around with the help.”

I make a sound of indignation and clip out, “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not looking for that.” Any guise of friendliness in my tone has evaporated because how dare he presume I’m the type who’d screw my boss.

He smirks disbelievingly. “That’s what they all say, right before they throw themselves at Daddy Warbucks. Fuck knows, I’ve listened to a few of them go on and on about his icy blue eyes and intimidating assholery, which is apparently sexy to some women.” He twirls a finger by his head, like that’s some crazy shit. “Then they’re gone—poof—like all the ones before them. Harrington doesn’t fuck around, literally or figuratively.”

“Well, that’s not what I’m here for.”

He pushes off the bleachers, smart enough to sense he’s stepped over the line. “Nice to meet you, Riley. Hope you stick around… at least for a little bit.” Effectively dismissing me, he strides away, calling out to Grace, “Alright, show me this new and improved canter.”

“And Riley watched my whole lesson. Well, most of it, anyway,” Grace rambles on, telling Cameron about our afternoon at the barn after dinner.

I can’t help but grin at the picture she’s been painting of today. She’s relayed her entire lesson in near real-time, minute by minute, with in-depth analysis of her riding, Pegasus’s response to her lead, and her plans for the upcoming end-of-year showcase. All of which Cameron has listened to intently, asking questions and hyping her up at all the correct points.

It’s honestly adorable.

With Cameron’s jacket long gone, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his eyes sparkling as he gives his complete attention to Grace, I don’t think he’s ever been cuter. Not that I’d tell him that. Or that for some weird reason, cute is suddenly feeling confusingly close to sexy in my brain.

Damn Miller for even suggesting that. He must’ve gotten my wires crossed because that’s definitely not why I’m here, working for the Harringtons. I’m a professional and there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Sleeping with the boss is definitely one of them and a one-way ticket to getting fired.

But while one particular part of my body is arguing that, thankfully, my brain is keeping up with Grace’s monologue, so wrist deep in soap suds at the sink, I pause my pan-scrubbing to argue, “Hey! I watched the whole thing.”

“Yeah, when you weren’t talking to Miller,” she teases, ducking her chin and batting her lashes at me. To Cameron, she clarifies, “And by talking, I mean flirting.”

Deciding to let the pan soak, I shut off the water, and laughing at how wrong she is, I tell Grace, “I was not flirting with your riding coach. Yes, we were talking, but I watched you the entire time, warm up to cool down for both you and Pegasus.”

Drying my hands on a towel, I turn around, and though Grace is grinning, Cameron isn’t laughing at all. His expression is stern, his jaw tight, and his eyes are ice-cold and locked onto me. He’s the definition of mercurial, going from relaxed to harsh in the timespan of a few words.

But before I can reassure him that I wasn’t falling down on my supervisory duties with Grace, she coos, “He was smiling at you and you were smiling back, and you were both laughing. That’s how you know someone likes you.” She nods with all the certainty a pre-teen can muster. “And he said he likes your pink hair and asked you out for a beer on Friday. Riley, that’s literally the definition of flirting.”

“Okay, yeah, you’re right about that,” I admit, “but Miller was just being friendly and welcoming to the new girl.” In reality, it’s more likely that he asks out anything in a skirt to see if he can get under it, but that’s not exactly age-appropriate to tell her. “That’s all, nothing serious.”

“Why not? He’s cute, right?” she demands like a stubborn dog with a bone.

I swear I hear Cameron’s teeth grinding together, but when I chance a quick sideways glance to him, he’s perfectly still and his face is completely blank, so maybe I imagined it.

Treading carefully as I explain my feelings about her beloved coach, I start, “Miller is a good-looking guy.” Grace’s whole face lights up, so I rush to continue, “But not my type. Actually, I’m not sure I even have a type because I don’t date much.”

“Oh.” She sounds disheartened to hear that. “Why not?”

This is awkward as hell. How do I explain to a child that I’m a drifter who craves stability but never quite settles into it, and that people always leave me so I tend to cut my losses before they get the chance in a misguided attempt to save us both the pain? There’s not exactly a children’s book version with cute, fuzzy teddy bears to help explain the mess of a life like mine and its fallout.

“Always moved around too much, I guess. Plus, not everyone likes pink-haired weirdos, you know? Now, if my hair were blue? Or rainbow? Then it’d be a whole different scenario.” I send Cameron a teasing wink, which he answers with a scowl.

“So, you don’t have a boyfriend, but you don’t want to date Miller?” Grace still sounds confused, but at least she’s catching on to the main points of my TED talk.

Nodding, I repeat, “I don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t want to date Miller.” I make sure each word is crisp and clear so she gets it.

Honestly, right now, I’m pissed at Miller.

If he hadn’t been flirty and charming, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with Grace, which is entirely pointless, and losing whatever progress I’ve made with Cameron.

And more importantly, if Miller had kept his opinions about Cameron to himself, I wouldn’t be wondering which nannies threw themselves at my new boss, only to be rebuffed with a pink slip. Because before today, I hadn’t really cared whether Cameron was a man who would or wouldn’t sleep with his nanny. It didn’t matter since I’m not that girl.

I do stupid, careless, wild things sometimes—like moving across the state with a few days’ notice, with no plans beyond helping an acquaintance. Or running away. Or listening to my gut instincts about which job to take or turn down.

But sleeping with my boss? Nope, not doing that. So the little voice in my head that sounds annoyingly like Miller can shut the hell up because I’m not getting fired.

Well, not for throwing myself at Cameron. For something else? Maybe. Or even probably.

Grace shrugs, accepting my declaration. “That might be for the best, anyway. I think Shana likes him because she asked if I knew where he was last week, and when I told her that he went to a rodeo, she smiled like this.” She lets a lovestruck, vacant-eyed smile wash over her face and then laughs like people are so silly when they like each other. She blinks, her face resetting into her little girl happiness. “Can I have some more mac and cheese?”

And like that, the awkwardness should be over. Grace is no longer trying to pawn me off on her riding coach or making it sound like I was humping his leg during her lesson.

But Cameron’s still glaring at me like I’ve done something wrong. Like the quintessential professional I am, I glare right back, daring him to say one word about it. Because while his face said a whole hell of a lot, his mouth has been downright silent through this whole thing. He didn’t even try to steer Grace away from digging into my love-slash-sex life, basically leaving me to fend for myself. I can handle that, but I bet if she’d been trying to hook Cameron up with Ms. Flanders, he would’ve shut that shit down quick.

“That reminds me, Ms. Flanders wanted to make sure you’re chaperoning the Fall Ball again this year.” I give Cameron a doe-eyed look of pure innocence, like I have no idea why my words would make his cheek twitch.

“Oh, yeah!” Grace shouts. “You’re gonna come, right?”

If looks could kill, I’d be a dead woman. The Clue cards would read: Murder by glare, in the kitchen, by Cameron Harrington.

But I’m grinning as I scoop another spoonful of mac and cheese onto Grace’s plate.

Turnabout is fair play, after all.

“Yeah, you absolutely have to go. Ms. Flanders said to save her a dance. You do dance, right?” I haven’t forgotten that Grace reminded Ms. Flanders that he always attends but never steps onto the dance floor. In fact, that’s probably why I’m twisting this particular screw.

“Of course he does,” Grace informs me, countering her previous declaration and speaking for her father who is now glowering at me.

I wouldn’t have thought there could be this many degrees of fire in one man’s look, but Cameron’s got an entire scale that goes from frown to scowl to glare to glower. I wonder what comes after that? It might become my new mission to find out.