Max
Ding-dong.
I whirled around just as the toast popped up from the toaster and Dylan shrieked from her high chair.
“What the . . .” I glanced at the clock. It was seven thirty—a full thirty minutes before the nanny was supposed to be here. I hadn’t even combed my hair or brushed my teeth yet. And as for the kitchen?
I glanced around, looking for any place where the counter was actually visible.
“Damn,” I mumbled, and then plowed my fingers through my hair as I made for the door. When I opened it, I found Addison on the step with a suitcase, her long brown hair swept into a neat ponytail on top of her head.
“Good morning,” she chirped.
I’d bypassed my typical morning wood since I’d been awakened by the sounds of the baby screeching, but now, with Addison at the door like the openi
