Barely Yours Read Online Free PDF

into you today? You’re vicious. You’re showing no mercy. I mean, great game, but come on, I was out late last night with Helena. Can’t you take it easy on a bloke once in a while?”
    “’Fraid not,” I laugh. “You know how this works. We play properly or not at all. And anyway,” I add, “I’ve got a lot of tension to work out. It’s Tabby.”
    “What’s up with her? Not the nightmares again I hope?”
    “No, nothing like that,” I explain, “but I hired a nanny. Someone to be with her all day. It’s her first day today, and I guess I’m just concerned.”
    “Well, good for you,” says Bruce, his usually curly ginger hair now plastered with sweat to his forehead.
    Maybe I do need to go a little easy on him.
    “What d’you mean?” I reply, wiping the sweat from my brow.
    “I’m just glad you’ve finally done it,” he says. “I know you wanted to look after Tabitha on your own, but it was never gonna work. Not while you’ve got a business to run as well.”
    “Yes, I know you’re right,” I sigh. “And I’m sure I’ll get used to it in time. It’s just strange to think there’s someone else looking after her right now.”
    “So,” Bruce says, moments before he serves, “is she a hottie?”
    The question takes me completely by surprise, the ball whistling straight past my head at a hundred miles an hour.
    “What?” I stutter, almost tripping over my trainers.
    “This nanny,” Bruce persists. “Is she a hottie?”
    “I haven’t noticed,” I lie. “I’ve employed her to look after my daughter, not just as some eye candy for me to ogle around the house.”
    “Sure,” Bruce grins, “but why not kill two birds with one stone, if you get my meaning?” 
    “Just quit it,” I growl, giving him a look that wipes the smile off his face.
    “Wow,” Bruce says, grabbing the ball for his next serve. “I think someone’s protesting a little too much ...”
    Damn it. He’s right.
    She’s not even here and it’s totally obvious.
    I came here this afternoon to try and get her out of my mind. But it’s not working. What am I getting myself into?

 
     
     
     
     
     
     

    Seven o’ clock on Friday night. The end of a long first week in my brand new job. And oh my god am I exhausted. Perhaps it was a little naïve of me, but I thought this job was gonna be a total breeze. I mean, hang out with a cute kid all day? Take her to the park? Maybe fix her a sandwich for lunch and then relax in front of some kiddie TV? Plenty of time to chill out on my phone and catch up with all the gossip back home, right?
    Wrong.
    For a start, I’m on my feet all the time, even more than in the shop. Tabby has got so much energy. It’s like nap time means nothing to her. Sure, I take her to the park. But she wants me to push her on the swings, play peekaboo in the trees, pretend we’re both dragons. It’s totally exhausting.
    And another thing?
    The hours are killing me . I know I shouldn’t complain. I know my pay is crazy, insane – the kind of money I didn’t think I’d be earning even in fifteen years time, even with whichever masters degree I decide on in the end. But I start at eight am, sharp, not a moment later, and I’ve got to stay until Will – I mean Mr Cavendish – gets home. Which hasn’t been any earlier than eight pm all week long.
    I mean, that’s a twelve hour shift, right? I suppose the upside is that I haven’t had to spend any time at home, so I’ve hardly even seen my crazy flatmate Magenta.  On the upside, I’ve had no time to get annoyed by all the maddening things she does. Drastic way to solve a problem, I know, but it’s worked.
    The worst bit is that I had to cancel my weekly pub date with Brian. I really hated doing that, but he’s been so understanding, not to mention excited for my new job. And he’s promised to take me for a celebration brunch tomorrow in this hot new place in Fulham. I can’t wait .
    And right now Tabby’s fast asleep, and