“Can I make you a drink or something?” I ask.
“It’s fine.” She opens cupboards and slams them shut as if looking for something. She doesn’t seem that sick. Maybe she’s bunking off music lessons.
I persevere. “How was school?”
She cuts me a glare. “You don’t need to pretend you’re interested. We don’t need to talk.”
Jeez. Mission failed. “Didn’t you and Mrs. Dalton chat?”
“You’re not Maggie,” she snaps. “She’ll be back in a few months.”
I try to remember what it was like to be a new teenager. Everything and everyone is the worst. “I get it. It’s a pain having a stranger living in your house.”
She shrugs defensively. “I’m used to the staff being around. I have security at school.”
The staff.
My eyes widen. “Wow.”
“I’ve had them since kindergarten.” Teagan studies me strangely. “What I can’t figure out is why he picked you. You’re nothing like Maggie or the other two.”
“The other two?”
“The nannies who got fired before you.”
Great.
I turn off the oven, totally unnerved. “Your dad didn’t pick me,” I tell her, deflated. “And I don’t think he would have either. Marcus, a guy who works for your father, did.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re Irish.” Her eyes narrow. “I bet you’re only here to come on to my dad.”
My eyes bulge out of my head. Where did that come from? “Excuse me?”
“Oh, please. He can’t even go to the supermarket without women hitting on him. It’s probably the only reason you applied.”
“Firstly,” I snap, putting my hand on my hips. “I doubt very much your dad goes to the supermarket, and secondly, I can barely talk to him.” I snort indignantly. I’m not having a teenybopper make out that I’m a gold digger. “Coming on to your dad is the last thing on earth I’d do. I want to keep this job. That’s very judgmental, considering you’ve just met me.”
She eyes me skeptically for a long beat. “Whatever.”
“Look,” I say more calmly. “I want you to give me the chance I deserve. Let’s get to know each other. When school breaks in a few weeks, we’ll be spending more time together.”
“Why are you bothering? You won’t have to talk to me in a few months.”
I frown. “How do you make friends with that attitude?”
She glares back at me. “I have enough friends.”
“At twelve?” I put my hands on my hips. Now it’s my turn to do a dramatic eye roll. “Listen, when you’re my age, you won’t be friends with half the people you are today. If you’re lucky, you’ll collect new people along the way.”
Her upbringing seems so alien to mine. I’m starting to think growing up in a multimillion-dollar townhouse isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Most of the rooms I cleaned today were guest bedrooms. Teagan’s bedroom is on a separate floor from her father’s. I get the impression I’m not the only one living like a stranger in the house.
“What if we end up getting on really well and staying in contact?” I ask, softening my tone.
“Doubtful.” She comes up beside me and grabs a bottled water from the fridge.
She’s not giving me an inch.
I let out a defeated sigh. “Is there any way I can convince you not to tell your dad what you heard me say? Or that I cursed?”
“I’m not ten. And Dad curses all the time.” She smiles with an evil glint in her eye, accentuated by the eyeliner. “It’ll be more fun to see what finally gets you fired.”
“I haven’t even been in this job a day, so I’m not sure where your lack of confidence comes from,” I huff. “But you’re right; I’m more than capable of getting the sack all by myself, so if you could not hurry it along, that would be great.”
“Sorry, not sorry,” she sneers.
“There’s no need to be so snarky,” I snap. “Jesus. Give me a break.”
To my surprise, she looks mildly contrite. I groan, scanning the kitchen ceiling. “Your dad’s probably listening right now.”
“Probably.”
At least I’ve got Teagan talking. It’s a start.
“Truth, why are you really bunking off music?”
She snorts. “Why? Do you think you’ll get points with my dad if you snitch?”
“I won’t snitch if you don’t.” I grin. “Believe me, I’m in more trouble with your dad than you are.”
She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch. “I play the cello. It’s fucking wack.”
Wack is a bad thing, I assume.
“Fair enough. I don’t blame you. Oh, and language. Watch your language,” I say halfheartedly. It feels hypocritical to tell her off when I cursed at her age. “I bet your dad wouldn’t let you talk like that.”
Another shrug. “He’s so freaking salty all the time. It doesn’t matter what I say.”
Christ, I need a teenager translation guide at this rate.
“Did that hurt?” she asks, taking a step toward me. I frown for a second, not understanding what she’s talking about.
My hand flies to the nose ring right through my septum. Damn, I thought I had taken it out. I covered the tattoos but forgot about the ring.
“Yes.” I smile. “Massively. They use a needle rather than a gun. As soon as the needle went in, I screamed my head off.”
“My dad would hit the roof if I got that done. What age did you get it?”
“Seventeen.”
Her jaw drops slightly, then she quickly hides her surprise. I remember it’s not cool to show a reaction other than indifference at her age. “Is your hair color real?”
“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “Like yours.”
Her face falls. “It’s nothing like mine. Yours is smooth.”
“Oh, I’ve been there.” Finally, an in with Teagan. “I just learned to tame it after years of trying. I used to get teased relentlessly for having frizzy hair. I can help you with yours if you want? I have good hair products that will take the frizz out.”
“Perhaps.” She sniffs. “I hate mine. And Dad won’t let me do anything about it.”
“When I was younger, my mam didn’t want me to dye my hair either, but I was so desperate to change it that I used food coloring. She went ballistic. But it worked! For about three days, my head was neon red. Not good.” I laugh, remembering. “But different.”
A trace of amusement crosses her face. “That’s so stupid.”
“What can I say? You live and learn.”
I’m distracted by my phone buzzing in my bag. I take it out, and there’s a message from an unknown number.
How are you settling in? Is Killian the ogre you thought he would be? Marcus.
Worse, actually, I refrain from texting back. I’d prefer to lodge with the Addams family.
Now I get why he needed someone desperate. It’s not even the end of day one, and my nerves are shot.