I glanced out to my car parked along the curb and then back to the waitress.

Until now, I’d had no concept of how challenging Liza’s life was as a single mom. I was rapidly learning.

But juggling take-out food and sleeping children was the least of my worries. It was becoming rapidly apparent that the logistics of this babysitting gig weren’t going to work.

Thanks to getting the new account, I’d be working harder and more hours than ever before. I obviously needed full-time childcare.

I’d googled the duration of shingles and found it could be well over a month before my dad would be clear. And there was a good possibility my mother would have caught it by then and the cycle would start all over again. It was obvious they wouldn’t be up for tending Stewie for a while.

My apartment was tiny, so I couldn’t move Stewie into my place with me long term. My sister lived too far from where I worked, so staying at her place was out of the question. I was going to have to somehow find a short-term rental for us for at least the next couple of months.

It was a lot, but that was all taking a backseat to my concern that if Stewie woke up alone in the car while I was in the diner, he was going to flip the hell out. Then I’d be arrested for sure.

Blowing out a loud breath I turned back to try to catch the waitress’s attention and ask her how much longer it would be for the order I’d placed.

She walked by and I called out, “Excuse me.”

“Yeah?”

“I have a three-year old asleep in the car outside. Is there any way you could put a rush on my order?”

Preferably, before all hell broke loose and the cops showed up.

The waitress cringed. “The kitchen’s pretty slammed but if you want, you can go out and wait in the car and I’ll run the order outside to you when it’s ready.”

I jumped at her offer. “You’d do that?”

“Sure.” She nodded.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I’d thank her even more with cold hard cash in the form of a tip.

“No problem,” she replied before skittering off to deal with a woman waving at her from the other end of the counter.

That problem solved, I ran outside to the car and tried the door. Locked. Of course I’d locked it. I didn’t want Stewie to be kidnapped on my watch.

But I’d only brought my wallet into the diner. Not my purse. So where were the keys?

Leaning in I peered through the window . . . and spotted the keys dangling from the ignition.

Holy shit. How could I have done that? Locked my keys in the car with the kid?

Jeez, I was a horrible babysitter.

Chances where good I was going to accidentally kill him yet. Then I’d be in prison where I wouldn’t have to worry about rentals or ad campaigns.

Drawing in a breath, I looked around, panicked. There were a ton of cars parked out here, and the diner had been packed inside, but there wasn’t a soul outside on the sidewalk.

Panicked, I realized my cell phone was also inside the car, in the holder on the dashboard where it had been giving me GPS directions from my sister’s to my apartment.

Mouthing another obscenity, I glanced around me again, completely at a loss. I could go inside and ask to use the diner’s phone to call the auto club to come break into my car for me, but then I’d have to admit I’d locked my nephew inside.

I didn’t relish that idea. But I also couldn’t let Stewie wake up and realize he was trapped inside.

Could a kid his age open the car locks if I talked him through it? I had no idea.

I was so unprepared for this task it was criminal—literally. There was no way around it. I was just going to have to give in, go back into the diner and beg for help.

Fighting tears, I covered my face and groaned in frustration.

“Problem?” The manly voice had me peeking between my fingers to see the insanely good-looking twenty-something guy I’d noticed in the diner before.

The hot one who, if I weren’t crazy, had been checking me out. The one who was much too young for me to be thinking of as hot to begin with or assuming he’d be interested at a woman my age.

Nope. I wasn’t going to ask him for help. No way. I’d take a chance on the auto club getting here before Stewie woke up.

My irrational proclamation was upturned when Stewie chose that second to do just that. I saw the big blue eyes open beneath the shock of overly long, wavy dark brown hair that my sister refused to trim.

I saw the moment he saw me on the wrong side of the locked door. Luckily, he was too young to know it was locked or that there was a problem.

If I could just control my own expression he’d never know.

Forcing a smile I leaned low and said, “Stewie. Hey, buddy. You’re awake.”

“I’m hungry,” he said, his little voice muffled by the mostly closed window between us.

“I know you are, bud. The food is coming.” Maybe I could slip the french fries to him through the crack in the window one at a time.

I felt mister hot young bod behind me before I turned and saw him there. He’d leaned to see past me, to the steering column, even as I moved to block his view.

A smirk twisted his lips. “You lock the kid in the car with the keys?”

“No. I mean—” I let out a sigh. “Not on purpose.”

His grin widened. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Not like I can go anywhere,” I mumbled as he trotted away from me.

As promised, he was back in under a minute. Thank God because I was running out of small talk with Stewie.

“Let me in there,” he said as he sidled around me to get to the driver’s side window.

“What are you going to do?” I panicked when I saw the long metal rod in his hand. “Don’t break the window.”

He frowned at me. “I’m not.”

Sliding the thin piece of metal between the window and the doorframe, he wiggled it around a bit and then, thank goodness, I heard a click.

After pulling the tool back out he reached down and opened the driver’s door. “There you go.”

I let out my breath in a whoosh. “Thank God.”

“Actually, the name’s Boone, not God, and you’re welcome.” He grinned.

I couldn’t even be annoyed at his cocky attitude and dumb joke. I was too grateful. He’d helped me out of a huge jam. Saved Stewie from a certain meltdown. Prevented an embarrassing call for help.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He hit the button to unlock all the doors, opened Stewie’s and leaned in. “Hey, buddy. How you doing back there?”

“I’m hungry,” Stewie repeated, making me feel like the worst aunt in the world.

“The order is coming,” I explained.

“Yeah. They’re slammed on weekends. It can take a while. Want some of my shake?” Boone asked Stewie directly, holding the cup out toward him.

My eyes widened. We were coming into cold and flu season. I didn’t know this guy. Before I could express all my concerns, Stewie reached out for the cup.

“I’ll hold it for you. It’s kind of big.” This stranger bent his long legs and settled right in the back seat next to Stewie, holding the cup for him with one big hand while he guided the straw into the child’s mouth with the other. “It’s good, huh?”

Stewie nodded.

“Always ask for extra thick when you order. That’s the trick,” Boone explained, as Stewie focused on him like he was spilling the secrets of the universe.

“Hey, here you go.”

I spun at the girl’s voice and found the waitress next to me, bag extended toward me with one hand.

“Thank you,” I said, grateful as I realized I’d never went into my wallet to get her a tip. I rushed to put down the bag and remedy the situation when she stepped to the rear door and peered inside.

“Hey, Boone. Whatcha doing in there?”

“Hey, Sha. Just hanging out and sharing my shake with this little dude.”

She laughed. “I’d say he’s a step up from some of the people you usually hang out with.”

“Ha, ha. Smart ass,” he mumbled.

“Smart ass,” Stewie repeated with a wide grin on his face.

I sucked in a breath. I shouldn’t react. That would just reinforce the behavior, but I couldn’t control myself.

Boone’s eyes shot wide as he glanced at me. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

Stewie giggled and proceeded to chant, “Shitshitshitshitshit.”

In fact, he made it into a song. One that went on and on and actually had a catchy tune to it.

At that, the waitress lost it, laughing so hard she had to bend over at the waist.

Boone cringed and met my gaze and I knew one thing—however long I had him for, our time together was going to leave a lasting impression on Stewie . . . and afterward my sister might never speak to me again.