Curvy Nanny for the Nerd

1. Brady

Chapter 1

Brady

N othing is working the way I wanted it to. Not today.

Not yesterday. Not any day for the past year or more. I can’t concentrate. I can’t focus, not for hours on end the way I’m used to while working. My relentless focus was why the first game in this series, Shooter Alpha ONE , was such a success, and it’s why the last three game series my company released over the past four years were equally successful.

My company, Winsome, Lose Some , has been my wife, my children, my whole entire life since I started it at the ripe old age of twenty-three. I have lived and breathed this company from the very beginning, putting my heart and soul into every game, every app and every line on every spreadsheet.

But now? It’s all gone to hell. I can’t seem to string together enough time to make Shooter Alpha TWO even better than the first game, but I have to. I need to keep the momentum going because it’s not enough to be among the top three gaming companies in the industry, and it’s not enough to be billionaire before thirty.

I want to be the best.

I need to be the absolute best.

A loud shrieking noise sounded in the distance and I tried to ignore it and get back to the task at hand, tweaking the dialogue so it sounded more authentic. The research I’d done online and in person had given me everything I needed to improve it. Everything except time.

The commotion grew louder and I got up from my desk, knowing that I wasn’t going to be able to get anything done until I stopped that infernal racket. I stood with a grunt and raked a hand through thick brown hair I hadn’t done more than finger comb in too many days to count, steadying my nerves before I made my way out of my office in the back of the mansion and down a long hall that wound through the large living room and ended at the kitchen. Here the noise was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think.

“What in the hell is that?”

Silver blue eyes that were identical to my own glared at me as if I was the cause of the offending sound. “It’s the smoke detector,” my niece Layla shouted at me. “I can’t reach it. Obviously.”

I ignored her rude tone and jumped on the counter to stop the smoke detector from making my eardrums bleed. “Better.” I jumped down and stared at my niece through a plume of quickly fading dark smoke. “What in the hell were you thinking?”

Layla folded her arms, flicking the blond hair she’d inherited from her dad off her shoulders, and rolled her eyes with all the sass of a seven year old going on sixteen. “I was thinking that I’m hungry and since there are no responsible adults in this house, it was up to me to feed myself.” She was being dramatic.

“You’re being dramatic,” I told her and glanced down at my watch to prove my point, but my eyes widened. “Four-thirty? It’s four-thirty, why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged, but the look of disappointment in her eyes made me feel like I was failing at everything. “I assumed you forgot about me. Again.”

My shoulders sank at her words, spoken so frankly and simply as if she just accepted it. “I’m sorry, Layla. I’m working really hard on this game and I lost track of time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’re busy and important. I’m aware.” She held up her hands. “I got it. You don’t need to worry about me.” Without another word she reached for the blackened grilled cheese and a butter knife, angrily scraping off the burnt layer.

I reached for the knife and she yanked it away, tossing it angrily into the sink and the sandwich in the trash. “Let me help.”

“I’m fine,” she yelled and stomped out of the room. She didn’t run, which somehow made it worse. Her controlled pace combined with her straight spine and squared small shoulders was proof that I was failing more as a parent than as a game developer.

I felt helpless, so I did what I always did, I went back to my office and buried myself in work. My sister was probably turning over in her grave at all the ways I was failing her little girl. Why in the hell did Marnie leave her kid with me, anyway? I was the awkward brother. The introvert who spent more time on his computer than with live human beings. Why had she, in her infinite wisdom, decided that I would be a good choice in the event of her untimely death?

Because it’s been me and you since the beginning of time, she’d written in a note given to me by her and her husband’s estate attorney, and she was right. Our parents died early and Marnie had stepped up to get her awkward brother to college before she made her own dreams come true.

“Dammit!” Now I was distracted by thoughts of my sister and how she’d come through for me every single time I needed her. But this one thing she tasked me with—caring for Layla—I couldn’t do it right to save my life.

I wasn’t good with people, not even small people. Hell, I wasn’t good with seven year olds even when I was one, and now? Everything I said was wrong.

Until now.

Layla was hungry and so was I, which meant this was the one thing in this moment I could do something to fix. I grabbed my phone and ordered food, enough for lunch and dinner for two hungry people, casting one last disappointed look at all the unfinished tasks on the list beside my keyboard.

Later. I’ll get back to this later, and I’ll be more productive on a full stomach and without guilt weighing me down.

“Layla!” I called out from the other side of her bedroom door. The one thing I remembered about girls was that they liked their privacy and I respected that. “Hey Layla, can I come in?”

“Yeah, come in Uncle Brady.” Even her tone was petulant, but I told myself it was what I deserved.

“Hey.” I raised an awkward hand and smiled. “I’m sorry about lunch, honestly. I didn’t forget about you, it’s just that I often forget to eat myself. But now that you’re here I should do better. I will do better.”

“Just buy some food I can make myself,” she muttered under her breath.

“I did even better,” I smiled proudly. “Lunch is here. And dinner. Sandwiches and fries, chips, salad and even a few slices of cake. Chocolate and lemon.”

Her blue eyes perked up, reminding me so much of my sister my heart squeezed. “Chocolate and lemon are my favorite.”

For the first time since I became her guardian, she looked like a happy little girl. “I know. Your mom’s too. She would smash them together and eat them like that. It was disgusting.”

Layla giggled. “That’s what my dad would say.”

“Care to join me for lunch?”

Disbelief shone in her eyes, but Layla nodded and followed me downstairs and into the kitchen. She piled two different types of sandwiches on top of a mountain of fries and sat down. She ate without a word and that feeling of failure returned.

“Layla, I’m going to try to do better,” I promised.

She sighed heavily. “It’s fine, Uncle Brady. I know you didn’t sign up for this, but you’re all I’ve got. I’ll stay out of your way and you’ll make sure there’s food in the house I can eat. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “We will be. But to be honest, I expected to have my days free to work while you were at school.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t like bullies.”

“No one does and I get that, which is why I need to do better. And I will.”

She shook her head and sat back with a sigh that held the weight of the world in it, her eyes darting around the table. “I’ll be just fine,” she whispered, taking her cake and the rest of the food upstairs without a backwards glance.

“Damn!” I needed to figure something out. Sure, Layla was self-sufficient, but she was also just seven years old and I’d left too much in her young hands since she moved in with me.

A babysitter. She needed a babysitter, someone who could watch over her while I finished Alpha Shooter TWO .

Now, can you order a babysitter online?