The last time I was within arm’s reach of Zaki Marsch, team prankster extraordinaire, he wrecked my carefully replicated vintage gown. Since then, I’ve avoided him—and hockey—like the plague. But the obnoxious defenseman has morphed into a distinguished ginger-bearded dad who dotes on his girls and wears tutus on command. The attention-seeking entertainer is still there, but this new softer version has me in knots. Now, out of the blue, he’s asking me to be the nanny for his adorable 5-year-old twins. The offer is tempting. The girls are sweet, and Zaki insists he’ll be traveling with his team half the time. I’ve laid down the ground rules: My home, my turf, my way. No pranks, no chaos, and definitely no melting my resolve with that grin and little dogs trailing at his heels. He’s everything I’m not—loud, extroverted, and constantly in motion. I’m a small-town introvert who’d rather spend my evenings sewing Regency gowns or reading than watching hockey. But between backyard rink lessons, school book fairs, and at-home ballet recitals led by his girls, Zaki’s charm starts to breal through my defenses. And those stolen moments—puppies in his lap, his girls giggling through bedtime stories—are making it harder to remember why I don’t like him. It’s just a job, right? Easy. Totally professional. I’ve got this. Sure, Wynnie. Keep saying that. Maybe someday it’ll actually be true.
