Free Hip Check (New York Blades) by Deirdre Martin Page A

Pickers
. The stuff they bought and sold always made her wonder if her dad had any hidden treasures around the apartment.
    Nell was safely tucked in bed. She’d balked when Michelle set the new “eight thirty bedtime rule.” That was the time she used to send seven-and-a-half-year-old Malina Karle to bed, and within minutes, the girl was asleep. The same turned out to be the case with Nell. She and Nell enjoyed a bit of reading before sleep. They were starting
Harriet the Spy
, which Michelle had adored as a kid. It helped relax Nell, which was good, because she was beginning to get nervous about school.
    Michelle had just downed her first spoonful of ice cream when there was a knock at her door. She froze. She knew it couldn’t be Nell; Nell usually knocked on the bedroom door between their two bathrooms. Which meant it was Esa.
    “Yes?”
    “May I speak with you, Michelle?”
    “Of course,” she replied, as mild ripples of resentment waved up and down her body. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a minute.”
    Shit, she thought, putting her ice cream down on the night table. Leave it to Esa Saari to want to talk when it was on her watch
.
Though technically she was responsible for Nell round-the-clock five days a week, her past experience had been that once her charges’ parents were in for the night, they more or less took over. But Esa wasn’t always home for the evening, at least not early enough to help tuck Nell into bed, and that pissed Michelle off. It seemed irresponsible, almost neglectful.
    Granted, there had been times she’d been awake and she’d heard him come in and check on Nell, but it would have been nice if he was there sometimes when she was awake. He’d told Michelle he’d be home early enough to do so tonight. And he wasn’t. Thank God she hadn’t said anything about it to Nell and gotten her hopes up.
    She slithered out of her sweatpants into a pair of jeans, giving her hair a cursory brush. Her terrycloth slippers were a bit ratty, but oh well. There wasn’t much she could do about that.
    She joined him in the kitchen, where he had just pulled a bowl of blueberries out of the refrigerator. He took a few spoonfuls, then put it back.
    “Those are good.”
    “They are,” Michelle agreed.
    “Has Mrs. Guttierez been accommodating with all the foods you’ve been asking her to buy?”
    “Very much. I think she’s relieved, actually. She wasn’t too happy, either, that—” Michelle halted.
    “I was feeding Nell badly?” Esa supplied.
    “You were feeding her the way a bachelor uncle would,” said Michelle politely. “Which is to say, badly,” she couldn’t resist adding.
    “But no permanent damage done?”
    Not on that front
, Michelle thought. “Not as far as I can see.”
    “Good, good.”
    She thought of Marcus’s upgraded description of Esa from “totally smokin’” to “stunningly gorgeous.” She’d concede he was “totally smokin’” but “stunningly gorgeous” sounded too much like a description of Angelina Jolie.
    “Can I get you a glass of wine?”
    Michelle gave him an odd look. “Water’s fine.”
    “Yes, of course.” Esa looked sheepish. “I’m an idiot. I meant water, but I was just out to dinner and had some good wine . . . I forgot for a moment the, uh, situation.”
    Michelle didn’t know whether to be flattered, or annoyed. He forgot for a moment the situation . . . did that mean he was simply seeing her as a woman, not a nanny? Why would she care, anyway? Marcus’s voice hijacked her brain:
Because he’s smokin’ hot, dumbass! And being noticed by someone who’s smokin’ hot is major!
    “It’s all right,” Michelle assured him.
    “Do you mind if I have some wine?”
    “No, of course not.”
    Michelle sat down at the kitchen table, quietly watching as he poured himself a glass of pinot noir and some water for her. She found herself wondering where he’d been out to dinner, and with who. Probably one of those busty