Summer Position

I'd been babysitting for the Hartley family for three years, since I was sixteen and desperate for spending money. Now I was nineteen, home from my first year of college, and Mrs. Hartley, Catherine, had called asking if I could watch her kids for one more summer.

I should have said no. I had internship applications to think about. But the Hartleys paid well, the kids were actually cute, and there was another reason I couldn't quite admit to myself.

Catherine Hartley.

She was forty-two, recently divorced, and absolutely stunning. Tall and graceful, with auburn hair that fell past her shoulders and green eyes that seemed to see right through me. She ran a boutique marketing firm from her home office, which meant she was often around when I was babysitting, appearing in doorways, asking if I needed anything, leaving glasses of lemonade on the counter with sticky notes that said "You're a lifesaver."

I had the world's most inappropriate crush, and I was certain she had no idea.

* * *

Week Two of Summer

The kids were at their dad's for the weekend, but Catherine had called me anyway.

"I know it's unusual, but I'm hosting a dinner party tomorrow night and I could use help setting up. I'll pay double your normal rate."

"Sure. What time?"

"Come by at three. And Emma? Wear something nice. You might end up meeting some of my clients."

Wear something nice. Like I owned anything nice. I raided my mother's closet and found a simple black dress that was probably too short but made me feel almost sophisticated.

When Catherine opened the door, she looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time.

"You look... different."

"Different good or different bad?"

"Different grown up."

She stepped aside to let me in, and I caught a hint of her perfume, something expensive and subtle that made my head spin.

"There's appetizers that need plating in the kitchen, and I need help with the flower arrangements. Think you can handle it?"

"I've been taking care of your kids for three years. I can handle anything."

She laughed, a warm, surprised sound, and something in her expression shifted.

"Yes. I suppose you can."

* * *

The dinner party was for her biggest clients, a tech startup that was about to go public. I stayed in the kitchen mostly, refilling wine glasses and bringi

ng out courses, watching Catherine work the room like the professional she was.

She was magnetic. Charming but not fake, confident without being arrogant. Every person in that room wanted her attention, and she gave it freely, making each one feel like they were the most important person there.

Including me.

Every time she passed the kitchen, she'd catch my eye. A smile. A wink. A whispered "Thank you" that felt more intimate than it should have.

By 11 PM, the guests were gone and we were alone in her kitchen, surrounded by dirty dishes and empty wine bottles.

"You were wonderful tonight. I couldn't have done this without you."

"It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing." She poured two glasses of wine and handed me one. "You're not a kid anymore, Emma. I keep forgetting that."

"I've been nineteen for six months. Definitely not a kid."

"No. You're definitely not."

She was looking at me again with that expression, the one I couldn't quite read. The one that made my pulse race.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

"Sure."

"Are you seeing anyone? At school, I mean."

"No. I was, but we broke up in January."

"He broke your heart?"

"She. And no. I broke hers."