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The Nanny Arrangement
by Rachel Harris

Copyright © 2017 by Rachel Harris. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Prologue

The new kid was outside again.

Shifting her weight, Hannah scratched an itch behind her knee. Despite the stifling August heat, the boy had been at it for more than an hour, shooting hoops in his driveway and now sitting on the front porch, dribbling a faded blue basketball between his open feet. It was the same thing, different day. Hannah had been watching him…okay, more like spying on him…for the last nine days, ever since he moved in, and today, just like every other day, she wanted to join him. Get to know him. Possibly, hopefully, even befriend him.

This afternoon, the pull was extra strong.

The boy hadn’t looked her way once, or done anything all that different, but Hannah had the profound feeling that he was sad. She was dying to know why. In Willow Creek, NC, newcomers were a rare breed, and while she was every bit as curious (read: nosy) as her gossiping neighbors, she also wanted to help.

Somehow, she sensed he could be a kindred spirit.

As she watched, the basketball hit the tip of the boy’s sneaker. It bounce-rolled down the porch steps, as it had done a couple times before, but this time he didn’t chase after it. Instead, he ducked his head and gripped the brim of his Tar Heels ball cap with both hands. With the way his shoulders heaved beneath the fabric of his tee, she imagined he was yelling, but her closed window blocked the sound. Then the boy plucked the cap off his head, threw it into the dirt, and dropped his head into his hands.

Hannah was out her bedroom door before her next breath.

Growing up in a small town wasn’t easy. Being a teenage outcast in a small town was even harder, and for Hannah Fisher, the cards had been stacked against her since birth. Bright orange-red hair that had only recently turned a semi-decent shade of strawberry-blonde was one strike. A wardrobe consisting of thrift store finds and homemade, overly modest items was another. But the debilitating stutter that had tripped her up for years was what ultimately pushed Hannah over the edge, making her a favorite target for bullying.

Her parents, God bless them, tried to help. They loved her, they got her speech therapy, and they always made time to talk…but they didn’t understand what it was like to be different. Older than her classmates’ parents, they couldn’t fathom what it was like to live in a generation where your mistakes and verbal ticks didn’t just haunt you in the moment but were also immediately mocked on social media. Texts, tweets, and embarrassing videos lasted forever. Almost as long as southern opinions.

In Willow Creek, people didn’t get to reinvent themselves. Judgments, once made, stuck like glue. No one seemed to care that Hannah’s stutter had improved over freshman year or that she’d found a surprising glimmer of spotlight in theater. Nope, her status as “school freak” was forever fixed.

But not so with the new boy.

Her newest neighbor hadn’t spent the last nine years listening to her struggle with simple words in class. He hadn’t witnessed her humiliation at the hands of girls like Lisa Michaels who found it hilarious to tease someone already on the bottom of the pile. This boy was her one shot at a fresh start. Even better, in all her days of spying, she’d yet to see him have a friend come over, either. It was possible that he was lonely, too.

Maybe…maybe they could save each other.

Hannah’s footsteps slowed as she neared the curb. The bright sunlight bouncing off the steaming pavement stung her eyes, and she squinted. The boy hadn’t lifted his head or given any obvious sign that he knew she was there, but she’d become a bit of an expert on him the last few days. Her gaze trailed over the rigid line of his shoulders, the hands fisted in his lap, and the sudden stillness of his feet.

Just walk up and say hi, she ordered herself, closing her eyes as she attempted to inhale courage. Unfortunately, all she got was regular old oxygen, and it was muggy at that.

Hi. Two small letters. Surely you can handle that, right?

Only, experience had taught Hannah otherwise. Stressful situations tended to make her stutter worsen and reappear—and just standing in front of this boy had her sweating through the thin fabric of her shirt.

In hindsight, she should’ve brought a glass of Mama’s sweet tea.

No one ever said no to tea.

Sighing, Hannah opened her eyes. It was too late to turn back now. She’d just have to dazzle him with her incredible wit and sparkling personality. Or, um, her impressive ability to chew her thumbnail and stare.

Yeah, that ought to do it.

Wincing slightly, Hannah crossed the street. With each step closer to the boy, she noticed something new. From her window stalking, she’d known that he was dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and a plain tee, but she hadn’t been able to make out anything more than that. Now, she saw the frayed, torn hem, the holes in his knees, and the dirty, threadbare cotton of his shirt.

Hannah glanced at his house. The windows were dark. No car sat in the driveway or out on the street. Come to think of it, she’d never seen anyone else at the house, not even parents, other than his mom on moving day. She’d always assumed they worked late…and left early…and parked in the garage.

Biting her lip, she turned back to him. Hmm. Maybe he was even lonelier than she’d thought.

Padding to the bottom step of his porch, Hannah willed the boy to lift his head. Up close, his shaggy brown hair had streaks of gold running through it. The length, now that it wasn’t covered by his ball cap, was longer than she’d have guessed and in desperate need of a trim. But it looked soft. Silky. For some inexplicable reason, her heart started beating like crazy in her chest. A small gasp escaped her lips, and the boy raised his head.

Wary green eyes so light they almost appeared gray stared back at her. His face, which Hannah had thought was cute from across the street, now caused her already racing heart to take off in a gallop.

Holy cow. He was beautiful.

Hannah’s mouth tumbled open. The strangest sensation swept over her skin, pebbling it despite the sticky heat. Her belly flip-flopped, and as she tried to make sense of her runaway emotions, the boy tilted his head, his guarded green-gray eyes narrowing as he studied her. Her lungs stopped working as he held her gaze, and she stood frozen for what felt like an eternity before she realized he was waiting for her to speak. That she’d just walked up and stood there on the sidewalk staring at him like some sort of mute weirdo. Or, you know, the school freak. The exact opposite of the first impression she’d been aiming for.

Licking her dry lips, she forced her mouth into a shaky smile. “H-h-h-hello.”

And time stopped.

Mortification burned blazing hot across Hannah’s skin. The very earth shifted beneath her hand-me-down sneakers.

Hi…never, ever hello. She knew that. Regardless of her new bag of linguistic tricks, one sound continued to trip her up time and time again—the “eh” sound. In defense, she’d learned to avoid it at all costs. Why, oh why, on today of all days, did her mind decide to slip? It was such a rookie mistake.

Hot tears scalded Hannah’s eyes as hope wilted like a cotton dress in July. There went a year’s worth of hard work down the drain. One word…one small, stupid word, and she couldn’t even get that right. So much for her fresh start.

Disgusted with herself, Hannah squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t handle seeing judgment pinch the beautiful boy’s face. Better she just walked away now, kept her mouth closed, and minimized the impact. Waving a weak hand over her shoulder, she spun around and headed for home.

“Hey.”

Hannah’s footsteps faltered. The broken whisper had been so soft she was almost sure she’d imagined it—but something made her glance back anyway. Their gazes locked for three long beats, long enough for her belly to dance and twitch again with energy, and as the hard lines around the boy’s mouth softened in slow degrees, an emotion that looked like longing sparked in his eyes.

“I’m Hannah,” she whispered back.

Internally, she performed a fist pump for how clear the words had come out. She smiled cautiously, and the boy’s lips twitched in reply. Not really into a smile—it was still too cautious and guarded to be called that—but she sensed the expression was genuine. That was even better than a smile.

“Deacon,” he replied. The sound of his husky voice created goose bumps on her skin. Her body was reacting so strangely today. Then Deacon glanced down at the split-wood stoop, cleared his throat, and said two words that would forever change Hannah’s life. “Wanna sit?”