Nanny I Want to Mate: A Single Dad Romance

by Mia Kayla

  “Mary, honey. We have to get going, so we can continue making your cake.” Yes, I was bribing her and playing her game, but right now, she was on top of the leaderboard.

  “You guys ready soon?” Brad yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

  “It’s been literally one minute since he left,” I deadpanned, my annoyance showing through my tone.

  “Mary, out.” Charles stepped around me and bent down to lift her.

  I placed a wet palm against his shirt. A bad move since he was dry but, considering he was going to chuck a fully soaked and not rinsed Mary out of the water, I needed to stop him.

  “You’re going to get wet,” I said, standing. I used my elbow to push the hair out of my face. I was already fully wet, so there was no need for the both of us to get ourselves soaked.

  “It’s fine. Mary …” He sidestepped me and turned on the faucet, running the clean water into the tub.

  “I’ll do it. Mary, can I have that little bucket, so I can rinse you?”

  Mary was being extremely difficult today as she continued filling up her pool.

  “You’re not listening!” Charles growled, making me jump. “You’re grounded.” He yanked the bucket out of her hands and tried to lift her from the tub, grabbing under her one arm.

  “I’m not done, Daddy.” Her pout was on full display.

  Charles gritted his teeth, and the muscle in his jaw jumped. When he spoke, it was like the earth shook with the authority in his tone. “You’re done when I say you’re done, and you’re done now.”

  Mary’s tears streamed down her face as he rinsed her, dumping water over her head and over her body. There was no doubt that Charles would need to get changed before the shoot because he wasn’t only a little wet; he was a lot wet.

  “I have it, Charles.”

  “No, it’s fine.” He plucked her out of the tub, but because she didn’t release her Barbie pool, she took the pool full of water with her, tipping it over and all over the floor.

  “Fuck.”

  “Oh no.”

  “What’s going on here?” Brad rushed into the bathroom.

  I was about to warn him to be careful until he stepped into the bathroom and wiped out, slipping and falling to the ground.

  “Great,” Charles grumbled, wrapping a crying Mary in a towel. “Now, we all have to get changed.”

  “Why me? Why now?” Brad lay there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, and then he began to laugh.

  Charles placed Mary on her feet and grabbed a few towels, layering them on the floor. I assisted but stepped on a puddle and slipped. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, twisting toward the tub, steadying me, but too bad we both fell in a heap over the towels, me on top of Charles.

  My breath caught as I felt every inch of him against me—his chest against my chest, his hip by my hip. I pushed at his chest but ended up getting tangled up and head-butting him.

  Ow …

  I expected more anger, more frustration from him, but out of nowhere, he let out a deep rumble of laughter that eased my insides.

  Then, I started laughing. Brad was laughing. All the adults were laughing.

  What a day. And there was no way it could get worse, right?

  Wrong.

  Suddenly, from the door, a bright light caught us all off guard as the flashes from the photographers began.

  Chapter 19

  Charles

  Every king, even the powerful, almighty ones, fell.

  And I fell.

  Hard.

  For the first time in a very long time, I was sick. Not just a little cold, but a full-on type A flu. It had been confirmed by the doctor. It had also been confirmed that since I had gone too late, I couldn’t take Tamiflu.

  Good God. My only saving grace was that it was the weekend, but I felt like utter shit.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  “Daddy,” Mary said. “I made you something, but Uncle Brad said I can’t come in there.”

  I grunted, unable to move because every muscle hurt, as though I’d just worked out. “Thanks, baby.”

  “I’m just going to slip it under the door.” There was a long pause before she continued, “And don’t die, okay? ’Cause I love you.”

  I laughed. Then, I realized it hurt to laugh.

  “Dad?” It was Sarah this time. “Brad and Uncle Mason are going to take us out. We might sleep at their place in the city since you’re … sick and stuff.”

  Good. Even better.

  I didn’t want to contaminate anyone with this virus, let alone my children, who had perfect attendance thus far this year.

  I lifted my head and peered over at the tall glass of water at the side table. Stretching my hand, I tried to reach for it. I could have tried harder, but I plopped back down and threw one arm over my eyes.

  Fuck it.

  I was going to sleep instead.

  Becky

  I’d been knocking on Charles’s door for the last few minutes, but he hadn’t responded, so I turned the knob and walked in, bringing a tray of soup, crackers, tea, and medicine.

  I’d never been in his room before, and I was surprised it was so bland. Where the rest of the house was filled with color, Charles’s room was gray, from his sheets to his walls, and there was nothing hanging up. Not a speck of art or a single frame.

  I’d suspected he’d have a picture of Natalie somewhere, anywhere, or maybe even of the children, but his dresser and side table were empty. I didn’t know if I found this interesting or incredibly sad.

  The blinds were all shut, but little shadows of light still filtered through the slits of the blinds.

  “Charles?” I padded to the bed and placed the tray on the floor.

  Half the sheets were off the bed. He had one arm thrown over his head, and he was breathing heavily. I could hear the congestion in his chest. He was in the middle of his California-king bed, so I had to slide onto it to feel his forehead and his cheeks.

  “Oh, Charles, you’re burning up.”

  He needed some Tylenol to get his fever under control. And he needed a change of clothes because his white shirt was damp.

  I decided to tend to him first, then feed him, and then medicate him.

  In nurse mode, I went into action, walking to his master bathroom made for a king. A tub the size of a small swimming pool was situated in the far corner, and every crevice of the white marbled bathroom sparkled.

  Interestingly enough, his bathroom was not as bare as his bedroom. For instance, Natalie’s side of the double sink was untouched. Her makeup and her jewelry case were there. Even her toothbrush was in its holder. She’d died almost four years ago, yet all of her belongings were still here in the bathroom, as though she’d never left.

  In the middle, on the counter, was a mini ceramic dish, and as I walked closer, I realized it held their wedding rings.

  I paused as I thought about it.

  No, he’d placed it here. This was originally his parents’ house.

  My heart clenched at the enormity of his heartache. He’d moved her stuff in, after she’d passed away, because he’d wanted her still with him.

  My heart ached for Charles and for a woman that I didn’t even know. Just the fact that her life had been cut so short, that she was not able to enjoy her children, love them, love and take care of Charles.

  Take care of Charles.

  I shook my head into focus and went to the linen cabinet to grab some washcloths. Finding everything I needed wasn’t that hard; it just consisted of opening drawers and rummaging through some of Charles belongings.

  After a good few minutes, I had washcloths, a bowl, and a clean T-shirt.

  “Charles?” I approached the bed. I dipped the washcloth in the water and wrung it out. After climbing onto the bed, I placed the damp cloth across his forehead before dabbing it down his cheek and around his neck.

  His eyes fluttered open. “Becky? What are you doing here?” he croaked out. “You need to stay away.” He co
ughed. “Whatever I have, I swear you don’t want it.”

  I ignored him, swiping at his cheek and his neck, repeating the motion.

  He grabbed my wrist, his skin on fire. “Becky, I’m fine.” His voice was low, rough, as though there were sand in his throat.

  “You’re far from fine,” I said gently. “Your fever is through the roof.”

  “I probably look like death and smell like death, so please … let me keep my dignity here.” His fingers moved from my wrist to my hand, placing it on top of his chest. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “You will be because I’m here now,” I said, maternal determination in my voice.

  He lost his argument at that, and his eyes fell shut. His lips tipped upward, and it made my heart pitter-patter. Why couldn’t he smile more often, not when he was in an utter state of delirium caused by a high temperature?

  “I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” he slurred, his eyes still shut. “That’s my job. Why I was born. It’s my purpose in life. I take care of people.”

  I paused, just staring at him, at the light stubble forming at his chin, at the length of his eyelashes with his eyes shut. It wasn’t fair, was it? All the responsibility set on his shoulders.

  “Maybe you should let people take care of you sometimes,” I whispered.

  I watched the even rise and fall of his chest, wanting to hug him for no other reason than for taking on that role, for being a good guy. He could have left the company to his brothers, he could have chosen to be less, but he hadn’t. He took on the world and refused to let it crush him.

  I admired that more than he’d ever know.

  “First things first.” I placed the washcloth in the small basin and got closer, on my knees. I am going to need all my strength for this one. “Let’s get you into a fresh, clean shirt. This one is damp.”

  My arms went to the upper part of his chest, right underneath his armpits, and I lifted him.

  “Becky,” he said groggily.

  “Just help me a little here. Can you sit up?”

  He grunted as I helped him to a sitting position. Grabbing the edge of his shirt, I lifted it to his neck. And then I just … stared. I couldn’t help myself. Because damn …

  I knew Charles worked out on his lunch break at work, and for the most part, he ate clean, which paid off because holy washboard abs.

  “Are you taking advantage of me, Becky?” Charles tried to joke, his eyes still closed.

  I pushed his shirt over his neck and pulled it up his arms before throwing it on the floor.

  “And about the other day … about Mr. Woody.”

  Mr. Woody?

  I smiled because he was cute, making jokes.

  “That’s a natural reaction in the morning for men.” He coughed a few times. “But let me tell you a secret.” He coughed again. “Mr. Woody is almost always at attention whenever you’re around.”

  Oh goodness. High-fever delirium.

  My cheeks heated. Thank goodness his eyes were still closed, so he wouldn’t witness my flaming hot cheeks.

  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t help but be flattered because there was no way I couldn’t be. Did he like me? I truly hoped and wished he did.

  I shook my head, dimming the thoughts. Wanting him, wanting him to like me, would complicate things—this job, my relationship with the kids. He couldn’t like me. He wouldn’t like me if he knew about my broken past.

  I focused on the task at hand and pushed the clean shirt over his head and down his stomach. With a lot of effort, I helped him slide down to lie flat again.

  It was fine until I fell on top of him in the process in a big oomph.

  “Taking advantage now, are we? You don’t even have to ask.” In that moment, he sounded like Brad.

  I would have laughed if my pulse wasn’t in overdrive. I pushed myself off of him and groaned when I spotted the Tylenol on the tray on the floor.

  Mother-pluckers.

  I stared back at my patient, who was now snoring soundly.

  One of my greatest qualities, in addition to staying hidden, was my persistence.

  I hopped off the bed, grabbed the Tylenol, then climbed back on, and straddled his waist. I bent down and lifted his chin. “Charles.” I shook him a little. “Charles!”

  “Hmm?” One eye opened and shut.

  I needed his fever to go down. I placed the little pill on his pillow and reached for his full glass of water at his side table. Then, I dipped a few fingers in his water and splashed some water on his face. “Charles!”

  He didn’t move. Stupid me, it probably felt good. If I were raging with fever, I’d probably love some cool sprinkles to the face.

  With a sigh, I repeated the motion until he stirred, and both sleepy eyes opened. I pulled at his shirt until he was elevated a little higher on his pillow. If he started choking, we’d have a different problem.

  “Open your mouth.” When he didn’t comply, I pulled at his chin and stuffed the pill in his mouth. Then, I put the glass on his lips.

  His eyes fell shut again, and I slapped at his cheek. “Hey, you. Come on. Come on. Come on.” Slap. Slap. Slap. “Come on. Swallow.”

  “Do you swallow?”

  This guy. I couldn’t dim my smile even if I tried.

  I tipped back the glass, cupping the back of his head to guide him.

  When the pill went down with a gulp of water, I almost laughed out my next words. “I always swallow.”

  His eyes slowly opened, and a drunken smile surfaced before I let him fall to his pillow.

  Gah!

  If I wasn’t careful, I could fall in love with this guy.

  Charles.

  Who knew what time it was or what day it was? All I knew was that I had to take a real bad piss.

  I stepped off of my bed and almost tripped on the comforter on the floor.

  “Becky?” I asked, my throat as dry as a desert.

  She yawned and slowly pushed herself to a sitting position.

  “What are you doing here?” I shook my head, confused, and did a once-over of my surroundings. Yeah, I was still in my room. “Becky, I’m sick, so you really shouldn’t be here.”

  She stretched, and her voice was heavy with sleep when she spoke, “But I had to check on you and make sure you were okay.” She pushed the covers off and stood. “I’m glad I did. Your fever was through the roof.”

  After she stepped into me, she placed the cool back of her hand on my forehead and then my neck.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief and smiled. “I think your fever broke.”

  I stood there in silence for a good whole three seconds, taking her in. Her messy blonde hair, the green in her eyes that seemed to sparkle against the light in my room. And in that moment, something broke in me.

  My heart warmed, and that tough demeanor that I always displayed cracked. She’d taken care of me—me! The guy who had been taking care of himself for the last four years. The last time I’d gotten really sick, I’d had the stomach flu. I had woken up in sweat and thrown up, but I’d peeled myself out of bed, showered, gone to bed, and repeated the process until the virus was gone. All by myself.

  So, taking in her blanket on the floor, the tray with Tylenol, some soup, a washcloth and basin … well, shit. This touched me on a deeper level, a level that caught me off guard. I blew out a long, slow breath, and my eyebrows pulled together as I took her one hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Becky.”

  She smiled a sweet smile. Then, it hit like a train coming at me full force, knocking the breath out of me. Just like I had known many years ago, when I was in high school, I knew now. It had only happened one time before. I wasn’t only drawn to Becky’s beauty. I was falling for this girl. Deep, hard, and completely.

  The shock of realization had me dropping her hand and turning toward the bathroom, almost sprinting. “Sorry. I have to piss.”

  I shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, running one shaky hand down my face.

  My bladd
er was about to explode, but I was paralyzed in my spot because I couldn’t deny it. I liked the nanny. I knew this. I had admitted this to Natalie.

  Problem was … what was I going to do about it?

  No, that wasn’t the problem.

  The problem was, how was I going to get her to fall for me?

  Chapter 20

  Charles

  The moment I realized I was going to pursue Becky, everything changed. But not in a good way.

  It was as though my life had been turned upside down and inside out.

  That Monday morning, I’d woken up late. I’d forgotten my tie at home and a belt, too, for that matter. I’d missed an important vendor meeting at work. I had been spacing out when people were talking to me because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  I was a damn lovesick puppy again, as though I were living my high school years all over again.

  I sat at the boardroom table, but everyone else had already cleared out. Monday mornings, I led our company meetings with all of the VPs and above to get an update on what everyone was doing. My job was to give them an overview from an upper-management perspective on our projections and upcoming projects we had planned.

  My fingers tapped on my knee, then on my untouched coffee, and then tip-tapped on the long mahogany table that took up the room. Problem was, I liked her, and I didn’t know what I was going to do about it.

  Like the CEO I was, I started listing all the pros and cons of dating her in my head.

  The major con was that if we didn’t work out, it wouldn’t be the same in the household, and I’d have to terminate her employment. Because how could we possibly go from seriously dating to her just going back to her regular job as the nanny? We couldn’t.

  I wasn’t going to pretend that was even an option.

  Also, the kids. I’d never even thought I’d be contemplating this—dating again.

  How will I break it to them? How will they take it?

  And will she want to date me? Am I even her type?

  A knock sounded from the door, and I lifted my head from my daze.