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calm.”
    â€œYou’re pretty good in the trenches yourself.” His eyes narrowed as he brushed dirt off Summer’s nose. “Learned that in nanny school, did you?”
    â€œWe learned a lot of things in nanny school.” Summer’s throat felt tight, her pulse erratic. He was too big, too quiet, too
close.
“Just like I told you, it’s a real profession now.”
    â€œSo you said. Didn’t you hear me tell you to stop moving?”
    â€œI thought it was just an excuse to rile me.”
    â€œNever take anything for granted. When I say things, it’s for a reason. Always.”
    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. “Ms. Mulvaney, there you are. Sophy, she is calling you many times.” Imelda, the housekeeper, was staring across the lawn, one hand shading her eyes. “You will be late for her ballet class, I think.”
    Ballet class. Summer glanced at her watch and stifled a curse. “We’ll just make it, if I run.”
    Gabe cleared his throat. “I doubt they teach you to wear your skirt like that in nanny school.”
    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. “One word and you’re toast, Morgan.”
    â€œI’ve got a lot of words, honey. Somehow they just don’t seem to apply in this case.” He leaned back against the shed and waved at the house. “You’d better get moving. Be sure you ask Imelda if she saw anything, because I want my facts straight when I talk to Ms. O’Connor later.” His smile faded. “This is one joke those two little hooligans aren’t getting away with.”
    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 Sophy’s ballet class, would be hard.
    â€œSorry,” she muttered as she raced up the steps past Imelda. “I got tied up in the potting shed.”
    â€œSophy, she is waiting for you. The first room to the right at the top of the stairs,” 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 O’Connor’s 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 can’t believe I’m doing this.
    The girls stopped arguing when they saw her. “We’re going to be late,” Sophy said shrilly.
    â€œNot if we hurry.” Summer swept a glance at Audra, who stared back coldly. “And after your class, we need to talk about what just happened in the potting shed.”
    She could have sworn Audra snickered, but Sophy stared back, wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”
    â€œI mean that the door got locked. I had to climb out through the roof.”
    Sophy’s eyes got bigger. “Really? Gabe tells us we’re not allowed in the potting shed on account of there’s pastry seeds in there.”
    â€œPesticides, stupid.” Audra squared her shoulders. “That’s why we don’t ever go near the potting shed.”
    â€œExcept you left your bag there,” Summer pointed out coldly. “Or so you said.”
    Audra shrugged.
    â€œWant to