calm.â
âYouâre pretty good in the trenches yourself.â His eyes narrowed as he brushed dirt off Summerâs nose. âLearned that in nanny school, did you?â
âWe learned a lot of things in nanny school.â Summerâs throat felt tight, her pulse erratic. He was too big, too quiet, too
close.
âJust like I told you, itâs a real profession now.â
âSo you said. Didnât you hear me tell you to stop moving?â
âI thought it was just an excuse to rile me.â
âNever take anything for granted. When I say things, itâs for a reason. Always.â
The tension between them tightened. As she looked into his eyes, Summer felt the oddest sensation of falling.
A door slammed up at the house. âMs. Mulvaney, there you are. Sophy, she is calling you many times.â Imelda, the housekeeper, was staring across the lawn, one hand shading her eyes. âYou will be late for her ballet class, I think.â
Ballet class. Summer glanced at her watch and stifled a curse. âWeâll just make it, if I run.â
Gabe cleared his throat. âI doubt they teach you to wear your skirt like that in nanny school.â
When Summer looked down, she saw her skirt was unbuttoned, riding low on her hips. The pale lace of her panties was clearly visible before she straightened the dark wool and jerked the top button closed. âOne word and youâre toast, Morgan.â
âIâve got a lot of words, honey. Somehow they just donât seem to apply in this case.â He leaned back against the shed and waved at the house. âYouâd better get moving. Be sure you ask Imelda if she saw anything, because I want my facts straight when I talk to Ms. OâConnor later.â His smile faded. âThis is one joke those two little hooligans arenât getting away with.â
Tugging on his shirt and tool belt, he headed off toward the back fence.
Â
Never take anything for granted.
Funny thing for a gardener to say, Summer thought as she sprinted toward the house. But Gabe was right. One or both of the girls were responsible for the locked door, and they needed to be severely reprimanded for their latest trick. Unfortunately, pinning them down now, with the clock ticking for Sophyâs ballet class, would be hard.
âSorry,â she muttered as she raced up the steps past Imelda. âI got tied up in the potting shed.â
âSophy, she is waiting for you. The first room to the right at the top of the stairs,â the housekeeper added.
Summer took the steps two at a time, tucking in her shirt as she went. Not that she was nervous about a silly dance class with a surly Russian ballet teacher. If things got too rough, she could always pull her service weapon and shoot out a few kneecaps.
But the pleasant fantasy faded when she reached Cara OâConnorâs room. A pink leotard lay on the bed, flanked by pink tights and pink toe shoes. Both looked at least two sizes too small for Summer.
I canât believe Iâm doing this.
The girls stopped arguing when they saw her. âWeâre going to be late,â Sophy said shrilly.
âNot if we hurry.â Summer swept a glance at Audra, who stared back coldly. âAnd after your class, we need to talk about what just happened in the potting shed.â
She could have sworn Audra snickered, but Sophy stared back, wide-eyed. âWhat do you mean?â
âI mean that the door got locked. I had to climb out through the roof.â
Sophyâs eyes got bigger. âReally? Gabe tells us weâre not allowed in the potting shed on account of thereâs pastry seeds in there.â
âPesticides, stupid.â Audra squared her shoulders. âThatâs why we donât ever go near the potting shed.â
âExcept you left your bag there,â Summer pointed out coldly. âOr so you said.â
Audra shrugged.
âWant to