Hot Dutch Daydream

by Kristy Boyce

Genres: YA Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Rom-com lovers and fans of Elise Bryant and Jenna Evans Welch will adore this next summer read from Hot British Boyfriend author Kristy Boyce.

No one has ever accused Sage Cunningham of being easily distracted. She has a plan, and she won’t be swayed. She’ll spend the summer interning in her mentor's lab in Amsterdam, and then she’ll be ready for college. All she needs to do to pay for the summer abroad is agree to serve as the au pair for Dr. Reese’s three-year-old.

Sage has it all down to a science, but she doesn’t anticipate the surprise arrival of Dr. Reese’s teenage son. Ryland is spontaneous, flirty, and impulsive—everything Sage isn’t. He’s a talented artist, but he’s desperately in need of someone to keep him focused. And as nannying proves harder than Sage had expected, it turns out she might need help too.

The two strike a deal. Sage will stop Ryland from going out with a different girl every day, and Ryland will pitch in with his little brother.

Spending the summer stuck together is the perfect way to keep distractions to a minimum. Right?

Release date: April 18, 2023

Publisher: HarperCollins

Print pages: 304

Sample

Chapter
1

I am frazzled. And I’m not one to get frazzled easily. In fact, I pride myself on my unflappable demeanor, but an eight-hour overnight flight next to a teething baby means I’m flapping all over the Amsterdam airport.

I’m in such a sleep-deprived state when I get off the plane that I leave my laptop bag on board and have to go back to get it, then get turned around trying to find a bathroom. At least I’ve now found my way to baggage claim. I tap my foot and pull out my phone even though only two minutes have passed since I last checked the time. Dr. Reese, who I’ll be living with for the next two months, will be here to pick me up soon, and I’d really like to retrieve my luggage and swing into the bathroom to wash my face first. But just as the baggage carousel jerks to a start, my phone buzzes with a text.

We’re here and waiting in arrivals.

I just need to grab my bag, I type back quickly. Next to me, a young couple chatter away in Dutch, but I can’t understand any of it. I studied the language when I realized I’d be working as Dr. Reese’s nanny this summer, but I only had a few weeks and languages aren’t my forte. My brain is much happier living in the STEM fields.

I run a quick hand over my dark pixie cut and then down my shirt. I’m wrinkly, disheveled, and exhausted, but hopefully she’ll understand. I don’t want to keep her waiting, so I grab my gray bag as soon as it comes into view and head through the exit into the rest of the airport.

There’s a small crowd waiting for passengers, including a man holding a bouquet and a family with smiley-face balloons. I scan the group and find Dr. Reese off to the left, looking as pulled together and professional as she always did in the lab last fall. Her auburn hair is cut in a stylish bob that frames her face and her blue silk scarf is both elegant and summery. Most moms I know—including my sister—are lucky if they’re wearing a clean shirt, but somehow Dr. Reese pulls off the working mother look perfectly.

Her three-year-old sits in a stroller fisting a messy sippy cup. To my surprise, he has bright red hair. So this is who I’ll be watching every day? I eye him dubiously. He does the same to me.

“Dr. Reese, it’s so good to see you again.” I’m not sure what to do so I put out my hand.

She smiles and shakes it. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here.”

“Thank you so much for inviting me. Working in your lab was the highlight of senior year, so it’s a real dream to be helping again.”

Last fall, I studied abroad in England and used the opportunity to volunteer as a research assistant in Dr. Reese’s oncology lab while she was on sabbatical there. Working in her lab was the best part of those four months—though I know my friends from the trip would say that’s blasphemous. It was hard and overwhelming, but I loved every second of it.

“It hasn’t been the same without your enthusiasm around the lab. You put my grad students to shame.” She winks at me. “Though this summer will be quite different—I hope you’re up for the challenge. If you thought research was difficult, then wait until you’re watching a three-year-old every day!”

She laughs at the joke, but my stomach twists with nerves. I’m willing to do just about anything to get more experience in her research lab, but to say I’m not a kid person is putting it lightly.

As if he knows what I’m thinking, her son takes this moment to throw his cup across the vast arrivals terminal like he’s an NFL quarterback. It sails past the Burger King and the wooden tulip shop before cracking an old man on the head.

The man yelps and Dr. Reese and I share a horrified look before I realize a second too late that I should run and grab it. It’s possible that I’m not cut out for babysitting.

I dash over and pick

up the cup. It’s sticky. Ugh, gross.

“I’m so sorry. He didn’t realize . . .” I gesture back at the toddler.

The man glares at me and turns away.

“Diederik, no throwing,” Dr. Reese says in a singsongy voice when I return. “Sage, let me make the formal introduction—this is Diederik.” Her wide, doting smile is so different from the serious face of the medical researcher I worked with in London.

I hand him back the cup. “Um . . . nice to meet you, Diederik.”

He throws the cup again.

I try to pay attention to Dr. Reese’s commentary as she drives us through Amsterdam to their place in the Jordaan district. People stroll down the sidewalks, bikes whiz past, and the gabled rooftops of narrow buildings loom over us. Unfortunately, my brain is fuzzy from lack of sleep. I’d planned to take a sleeping pill and get a full night’s rest on the plane—just as I had in the fall—but the last six months have shown me it’s impossible to sleep when a baby is crying.

I’ve spent those months living with my mom, my older sister, Wren, and Wren’s one-year-old daughter, Maddie. I’d originally thought I’d have the house to myself this year since Wren would be gone and in college, but plans changed when Maddie came into the picture. Coming here means I’m basically switching up one kid-centric house for another, but Diederik is three, so at least he won’t be up all night crying like an infant.

“How are things at the lab?” I ask, because I know this topic of conversation will keep me awake.

She brightens at my question. “They’re going really well. It was a bit of a transition back after my sabbatical, but we’re in the flow of things now. Actually, we’ve just started a really exciting collaboration with another researcher looking at the psychological effects of cancer diagnoses for patients and their families.”

I have to stop myself from cringing. I know all too well how the diagnosis can affect families. I don’t say that to Dr. Reese, though. I don’t like talking about private stuff with people, particularly not my boss.

She turns to me, her serious researcher expression back. “Once you get settled, I’d love some help pulling together the references for a paper we’re working on, and I’d like to see a rough write-up of what you’re thinking for the Berlin poster. Also, I want to start training you in data abstraction immediately. Katina is overwhelmed right now, so I’m going to rely on you for that.”

I nod eagerly. “Yes, absolutely.”

Joy blooms in me. This is the real reason I agreed to spend my summer babysitting. At the end of July there’s a huge international oncology conference in Berlin. Dr. Reese is giving a talk and also had several posters accepted, including one on the research I

 helped conduct last fall. Ever since I found out, I’ve been drooling over the idea of getting to attend with her and present the poster. I’m imagining it’ll be somewhat similar to the state science fairs I’ve attended where each person creates a poster to explain their research and then describes it to the attendees. Except for the small detail that I’ll be surrounded by some of the most well-respected cancer researchers in the world instead of kids who still need to be dropped off by their parents. Presenting at a conference like this is more than most students will do after four years of college, let alone before they’ve even moved onto campus. This kind of experience could seriously help my chances of getting into a top med school once I finish my bachelor’s at Johns Hopkins.

The problem with the conference was money—I’d never make enough shelving books at the library to cover my flight and hotel in Berlin. Particularly now, since Mom has been putting every penny into helping Wren and Maddie. Babies are expensive. I’d given up on the possibility until Dr. Reese asked if I’d be willing to nanny in exchange for her flying me to Berlin for the conference.

She pulls into a spot in front of a brick canal house with a shiny black double door. “Here we are.”

The street is charming, with big trees that extend over the canal and arched bridges that connect this side with the opposite. Bicycles are strewn everywhere—locked to posts and leaning against trees—and all the narrow houses that line the canal have decorative gables on the rooftops in various shapes. It’s just like in the travel guides.

“I love the bell gable on your house.”

She shakes her head. “You never miss a trick. I should’ve known your wide array of knowledge would extend to architecture.”

I smile sweetly. Knowing everything is my specialty.

Dr. Reese gets Diederik out of the car and pops the small trunk so I can get my bags. “I hope you packed light. We’re heading up to the third floor.”

I follow her up a set of enclosed stairs, similar to a staircase in an apartment building, and through a door into a long bright room that serves as the living room, dining room, and kitchen. It’s not a huge space, but it feels large because there are big windows at the front and back of the room.

“Welcome home,” she says with a smile. “We’re on the third, fourth, and fifth floors.” She settles Diederik on the ground with a basket of toys—which he promptly ignores in favor of something across the room—and waves me toward the stairs. “He’ll be fine for a little bit. Let me show you your room.”

The stairs are so steep and narrow that my tired legs are shaking by the time we hit the next floor. I’ve never really been into exercising, but it looks like this house will also function as an at-home gym.

“Here we are.” She

opens a door at the end of the fourth-floor hall. “This is where you’ll be staying.”

I poke my head in. The room is tiny, and there are large wooden support beams cutting into the space, but it’s functional. Except for the boxes piled on the floor and all over the bed. Just the sight of the clutter sends my heart beating faster.

“Oh.” She takes a step into the room. “Berend was supposed to clear this out this morning. I’m sorry.” She looks me up and down. “And I bet you were hoping to get a little nap.”

I shrug as if it had only just occurred to me.

She frowns for a moment and then her eyes light up. “Actually, follow me.” We walk up yet another flight of stairs that would never pass American building codes. “The attic will be a perfect place for you to sleep. There’s no one to bother you and you won’t hear any of the noises downstairs.”

The attic has a steeply pitched roof and walls that slope down so that it’s hard to walk upright unless you’re in the center of the room. Mismatched carpets cover the wooden floor and bookshelves overflow with bottles, brushes, piles of fabric, and pads of paper. Any open wall space has been covered by sketches, and a center table takes up the majority of the room. Some people might (incorrectly) describe the room as charming, but really it’s just a mess.

Dr. Reese picks up a paintbrush thoughtfully.

“I should’ve asked him to clean before he left.” She holds up the brush. “This is my older son’s workspace. As you can see, he’s an artist. He keeps telling me artists are messy, but I don’t see why the two have to go hand in hand.” She gestures to the back corner, where a couch hides amid the clutter. It’s definitely seen better days, but it looks soft.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take over his workspace.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, he’s away traveling this summer. That’s why we felt comfortable inviting you to stay.” She looks around the space. “Berend and I never come up here, so feel free to use the space whenever you like. It could be a little office for you since your room downstairs is small.” She turns to leave. “I should get back down to Diederik. He’s in a very curious phase and if I leave him for long, even with toys around, he tends to get into something he shouldn’t. You’ll see soon enough.” She smiles and waves. “Make yourself at home.”

As soon as she’s gone, I lie down. I know everyone back home is going to freak out if they don’t hear from me immediately, so I text my mom and my closest friend, Ellie, to say that I’m safely at the house. I can already imagine Ellie checking and rechecking her phone, anxiously awaiting updates. She’s more than a little jealous that I get to spend the two months before freshman year of college in Amsterdam while she’s stuck at home in DC. As she’s reminded me many times, the least I can do is send her constant texts and pictures. I close my eyes as soon as the texts go through, even though I know a reply from Ellie

 will be here momentarily.

When I wake up, the shadows have shifted. I look at my phone and groan. Noooooo, how did I sleep for five hours? Now I’ll be awake all night.

I’ve missed dinner, though Dr. Reese left a plate of food for me. At least her husband cleared the boxes out of my room so I can unpack, which immediately makes me feel better. I like having everything in its place.

I could go search for Dr. Reese and introduce myself to Berend, maybe watch some TV with them, but I’m not in a social mood. Instead, I go back upstairs to the attic with two of the latest research articles Dr. Reese has published. I might have lost the afternoon, but I’m determined not to waste any more time today.

At second glance, the attic is cozy, but there’s stuff everywhere. It makes me itchy. If her son is going to be gone while I’m here, what would it hurt if I cleaned up the space a little?

Or a lot?

I clear out all the paint bottles and papers and knives and—dear god, how many brushes does one person need? Then I think better of it and put them back as close as I’m able to. I should take photos first, so I can remember where all of this went. I don’t want him coming back in August and realizing some stranger messed with his stuff.

After I’ve taken photos of everything—feeling very much like a forensics expert documenting a crime scene—I start again. Peace fills me as the clutter dwindles.

The door to the stairway opens. I freeze and look up to find a teenage boy at the door.

“Wie ben jij?”

“What?”

He’s very pale, though his cheeks are flushed, and he has on a blue screen-printed shirt of dueling paintbrushes. But what really stands out to me is his hair. Soft waves of bright red hair fall to his shoulders, framing his face. The same color as Diederik’s hair. He has to be Dr. Reese’s older son, except he isn’t supposed to be here.

“Who the hell are you?” he asks with an offended expression.

“I’m the nanny.”

He drops a huge bag on the ground—the kind people use for backpacking across Europe—and I cringe as the crash reverberates through the room. “And what is the nanny doing up here in my space?”

I narrow my eyes. Oh no, he doesn’t get to act like I’m the one out of place in this scenario. Dr. Reese gave me permission to be here. He’s the one who needs to explain.

“And I could ask what you’re doing here. Given your hair color, backpack, and presupposed authority, I’m assuming you’re Dr. Reese’s son. But you aren’t supposed to be back until the end of summer and I was told I could use the room in your absence.”

His eyes widen and for a second I think he’s going to tell me off, but he laughs

instead. “I can’t believe this. I struggle back to my house, exhausted and defeated after the worst trip of my life, only to find an aggravated nanny has taken over my workspace. And you’re American.”

“Very perceptive.”

He laughs louder, his hair bobbing. I’ve never seen someone with such shiny red hair.

“Fair enough. And what’s your name, American Mary Poppins? I’m—” He breaks off as his eyes scan the room. His jaw drops. “Wait! Where’s all my stuff?!” He turns in a circle. “Everything’s gone. Did you—” He points at the paint tube in my hand. “Are you throwing away my supplies?”

I can feel my cheeks heat, but I only roll back my shoulders. “Of course not. Your mother said I could use this space when I needed to get away, and I tried but I couldn’t relax with this mess, so—”

“Mess! That’s my art, thank you very much!” He moves through the room, inspecting the shelves. “Where is everything? It’ll take me all night to put it back and I’m already so exhausted.”

“Oh, stop complaining.” Lord, he’s whiny. Like a very tall toddler. “I have it all over here. And I took pictures so I could put everything back before I moved out.”

“You . . . took pictures of my things?”

I pull them up on my phone. “See? No need to throw a tantrum. I’ll put it all back if you insist. Though it is a mess.”

He plucks the tube from my hand, but I think I see a hint of another smile. “Oh, okay, so you’re out of your mind. Does my mother already know or will I have to break the news?”

I sniff and we start to return everything, him from memory and me with my very useful and not at all weird pictures to help. It turns my stomach to re-create the chaos.

“You never told me your name,” he says.

“Sage.”

“Like the herb.”

“Like the American nanny who hates clutter.”

He chuckles. “I can already sense we’re going to get along well.” He swings around and sticks out his hand. “Ryland Hayes.”

I shake it, noting the different last names. I don’t know a lot about Dr. Reese’s personal life, but I believe this is her second marriage. Maybe Ryland is her son from her first one.

We work silently, and in a few minutes everything is back into its whirlwind place. If I wanted to, I could probably see why he had things laid out this way. But I don’t want to. I gather up my articles and head for the stairwell.

“Where are you off to?”

“Well, now that you’re unexpectedly back, I won’t bother you in your space. I’ll go read in my bedroom.” It’s too bad. I’ll have to work on my bed now, and that always gives me cramps in my shoulders.

Ryland flops onto the couch dramatically. “Mom is not going to be happy when she finds out I’m back.”

I look at him sharp

ly. “She doesn’t know?”

“No, I came up here directly. She and Berend are watching TV. I’ll tell them later.”

“Where were you backpacking?”

He raises an eyebrow. “The better question is ‘Who was I backpacking with?’”

“Actually, in that case, the better question is ‘With whom was I backpacking?’”

He groans and covers his face with a pillow. “You’re not going to be here all summer, are you?”

That brings up a good point. Will Dr. Reese need me now that Ryland is back? She mentioned only inviting me here because her son was gone. If my babysitting skills (whatever those might be) aren’t required anymore, then I might be headed home before I’ve gotten a chance to work more with Dr. Reese, let alone go to the conference.

“I guess I’ll be here until your parents don’t need me.”

“You mean my mom and stepfather.”

I smile—I was right. I love figuring things out before I’m told. I’m anxious to get back to my quiet and solitude—I’ve already lost so much time—but first I need to know. “Are you Diederik’s usual babysitter?”

He barks out a laugh and peeks from under the pillow. “Uh, no. Mom wouldn’t trust me alone with him for long.”

Huh. I wasn’t expecting that, but I guess my job is still secure. “Okay. Well, good night.”

“Wait.” His voice sounds a little strangled. “You could stay. I don’t actually mind. I could use the company—I’ve had a hell of a day.”

“No thanks.” Staying means being pulled into whatever drama he’s got going on, and that’s a horrible idea. “I need quiet to study and I’m already getting the impression that I won’t get any of that here.”

He sits straight up.

“Study? What in the world are you studying? Diederik’s eating habits? I’ll let you in on a little secret—he loves bananas and bread. ...