Living with the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 4)

by Whitley Cox

  “I tried feeding her, but she wasn’t interested,” she whispered. “Just wants to be held.” She began to rock again, humming the same lullaby as before.

  Sophie’s eyes were open, but they were hooded. Her limbs were limp too, and she kept yawning.

  “Dina used to sing that song to Sophie when she was pregnant with her. She’d rub her belly and sing Brahms’s ‘Lullaby’ before bed.”

  Her eyes flicked up to his, unease on her face. “Do you want me to sing something else?”

  He shook his head, taking a step forward until he could smell her hair and whatever luscious body wash she’d used in her shower. “Soph seems to like it.”

  “Do you want her?”

  He shook his head again. “No, she seems too content.” Trying his damnedest not to focus on Isobel’s cleavage, he pinned his gaze on her bandaged hand. How had she managed to shower with it on? He picked up her hand. “How’s your finger?”

  She made a face but didn’t pull away. “It hurts. Throbs actually, and I can’t tell if the bleeding has stopped or not. Showering was interesting. Used plastic wrap, a Ziploc bag and an elastic band.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. A real MacGyver.

  Then the image of her naked and soapy in the shower flashed into his mind, and he dropped her hand and took a couple of steps back.

  He hadn’t been with a woman in a while, let alone one as young and fit as Isobel.

  This was not a good idea. He needed a nanny he wasn’t going to have dirty dreams about. He needed a Mrs. Doubtfire, not a Mary Poppins.

  He gnawed on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. The pain was his punishment for his thoughts. For fuck’s sake, his sister had just died, leaving him to raise his niece all on his own, and yet the thoughts that entered Aaron’s mind as Isobel’s cleavage stared him down were anything but pure.

  He cleared his throat, determined to focus on the wall behind her. “Listen, I’m sorry for earlier.”

  She adjusted Sophie in her arms slightly, but that only pushed her breasts farther out of her tank top.

  Fuck me.

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry if I said something to upset you. We can hammer out the work details tomorrow. Liam said that he would take care of my wages if you couldn’t. I’m not worried about not getting paid, I just need to know what you want.”

  What he wanted …

  What he wanted was to put Sophie back in her bassinet, turn Isobel around, pull down her pants, bend her over the bed and get lost in the sweet heat of her body. He wanted to forget the last week and just feel good, even if temporarily. He wanted to hear her scream out his name as she came around his cock, her orgasm rippling through her so fiercely her knees threatened to buckle and he had to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her standing.

  “I can afford to pay you,” he said, shoving the dirty thoughts to the back of his mind for later. “Liam doesn’t have to.”

  Her smile was dismissive. They needed to move on to another topic.

  Her expressive blue eyes looked tired, and the yawn that followed her smile confirmed it. Aaron was tired too. His impromptu nap in the garage hadn’t done anything for his energy or fatigue. If anything, it just made him feel more exhausted than before, and now his back ached.

  Isobel picked up one of Sophie’s arms, then gently let it drop like a wet noodle. She lifted her eyes to his and smiled again. “Out like a light.” With slow, careful movements, she moved over to the bassinet on the bed and leaned in to put Sophie down. Only that move just showcased her luscious ass and caused her pants to pull down enough to reveal a small, discreet—fresh-looking—tattoo on her left hip.

  Aaron’s jeans were suddenly very uncomfortable.

  But he couldn’t look away. He stared at her ass. He stared at the three-inch-long tattoo of a stick figure girl with an I in the center of her triangle dress. It appeared as though she was meant to hold hands with someone, but it was just her on Isobel’s hip.

  Who had the matching tattoo?

  Just as slow as her movements had been before, Isobel stood up and backed away, pulling up her pants and covering the tattoo in the process.

  “I put your dinner in the fridge,” she whispered as they made their way out into the hallway. She didn’t shut the door because he hadn’t brought the baby monitor over from Dina’s yet and wasn’t sure how well they could hear Sophie cry if her door was closed.

  “I saw that and heated it up, thank you. You’re afraid of needles, and yet you have a tattoo and belly button ring?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Now she’d know he’d been staring at her ass and her body.

  She pivoted and lifted her tank top, tugging her pajama pants down enough to show the whole tattoo. Now his jeans were really uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, I was hammered when I got them.”

  His brows pinched. “They’re not supposed to tattoo or pierce drunk people.”

  She shrugged and released her clothing. “I consented first. Tori and I have always wanted to get matching sister tattoos, so we did it for my birthday last month. A friend of ours is training to be a tattoo artist and did it for us in her studio. I signed the waiver, then pounded tequila like it was water until she was able to get close enough without me spazzing out. The belly button was pretty easy. I just shut my eyes and it was over in a second. The tattoo was a bit more of a challenge.”

  He nodded. “I see.”

  “Childhood injury during a blood draw,” she said, a memory of a past trauma flitting behind her eyes and causing a muscle in her jaw to clench. “We went on a family vacation down to Central America, and I caught a bug while we were in Guatemala. The nurse or whoever was doing the blood draw couldn’t find a vein and kept sticking it in and pulling it out, then her hand slipped when she was about to stick the needle in again, and she got me good. My whole arm bruised. I was barely four at the time, and the whole thing was pretty traumatic. I’ve had a real fear of needles ever since. They usually have to sedate me before I consent to getting any kind of blood drawn or a vaccine.”

  Aaron scratched the back of his neck. Well, now he felt like a real ass for condemning her earlier. Some fears, some trauma were unexplainable, with no real discernible cause, while others were deep-seated, rooted years in our past from one lonely incident. And then they haunted us forever.

  Aaron had a trauma like that—and it haunted him on the regular.

  “I’m really sorry that happened to you,” he finally said. “Sounds like it was really scary.”

  She nodded. “It was. And I know that it’s silly that I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman who is still afraid of needles, but those memories still come crashing back the moment I see somebody snapping on the latex gloves and coming at me with a syringe.”

  He nodded. “Understandable.”

  She cleared her throat. He could tell she wasn’t a fan of the conversation topic. “You’ve quite a bit of ink yourself.” It wasn’t a question. Only a few of his tattoos were visible at the sleeves of his shirt. The rest were on his back and shoulders. Was she going to ask what they all meant? He really hated when people did that. Tattoos were personal, and sometimes their significance wasn’t meant for the whole world.

  He grunted, waiting for the onslaught of inquiries.

  He got none.

  She yawned again and stretched, lifting her arms above her head and pushing up to her tiptoes. A sliver of skin at her midriff peeked out at him, tempting him. Her belly ring sparkled and winked at him. Taunted him.

  Oh fuck me.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

  Bed.

  Why did that word cause every muscle in his body to wake up?

  He was exhausted. He needed sleep. His muscles shouldn’t be rousing; they should be getting ready to rest.

  It’s because you want to take her to bed. And do wickedly dirty things to her until the sun comes up and you feel even remotely human.

  He glanced down at her feet. Fuck, ev
en those were cute. Painted a bright pink and two of her toes had rings on them.

  He cleared his throat and stared at the wall behind her.

  Fuck, he was a coward.

  “Okay, well, good night.” Then he turned on his heel and headed back toward the kitchen, hoping his beer was still cold and his meat was still warm.

  He was seconds into his steak when the cry of an infant yet again interrupted his meal.

  He waited until he heard Isobel rouse in her bedroom and saw her shadow walk down the hall before he took another bite of his steak.

  Would any of them ever sleep again?

  How did parents do it?

  How did anyone have more than one child?

  These questions plagued him until he finished his dinner, jumped in the shower and saw Isobel’s almond- and honey-scented body wash sitting on the counter. Then different thoughts entered his mind, and with the shower running extra hot, his eyes closed and his hard cock in his hand, he relieved the pressure.

  Hoping to God the nanny wouldn’t be hot in the morning but knowing full well he was royally fucked.

  8

  With Sophie back in the stretchy wrap carrier, Isobel was free to get things done around the house. Not that she had much to do, as it wasn’t her house and Aaron hadn’t provided her with a list of things he’d like done, but she wanted to feel productive. She decided to get dinner for that night prepped, and while perusing his chest freezer in the garage for inspiration, she noticed a pile of Aaron’s dirty laundry just sitting on top of the washing machine in the garage, so she put in a load.

  He probably hadn’t done laundry in well over a week.

  She guessed that he’d spent nearly every minute at the hospital over the past week, probably like Sophie’s mother had until …

  Dear God, her heart hurt and tears welled up in her eyes every time she thought about Aaron’s sister.

  A gentle knock on the front door had her abandoning her station at the counter washing lettuce and padding her bare feet across the house.

  Tori had texted that morning and asked if she could come by for baby snuggles.

  Isobel jumped at the chance to see her sister. She had so many questions for her. Mainly concerning how Isobel was supposed to work for a such a hot guy and not melt into a puddle of goo every time he looked at her.

  “Hey!” Tori beamed, stepping over the threshold and into the house. It was only nine o’clock in the morning on Saturday, but already the sun was out, and it was hot. That’s what you got the last few days of August in beautiful Seattle.

  “Hey.” Isobel stifled a yawn and leaned in to peck her sister on the cheek. Tori pecked her back.

  Tori’s eyes softened as she took in a snoozing Sophie in the carrier. “Oh my God, she’s perfect.” She ran her hand over the top of Sophie’s downy-haired head before leaning in and giving her a big sniff. “My ovaries … ” she whined. “Gah. Mark wants to wait a couple of years before we have kids, but I keep telling him that he’s not getting any younger.”

  “At least he’s on board now. He wasn’t before.”

  “True.”

  “And besides, you’re focused on grad school right now. And that business management course. How on earth could you handle a pregnancy, let alone a baby? You’re not even living together yet.”

  “Touché. We will be soon though. I just want to finish my business class first before we shack up.”

  They wandered back into the kitchen, and Tori took a seat at the kitchen table, where she could watch Isobel prep dinner.

  “So I’m here for baby snuggles. Gimme, gimme.” She held out her hands and wiggled her fingers. “I can feed her a bottle if she wakes up. I just need to cuddle.”

  Grinning, Isobel gently pulled Sophie from the wrap, her little body all scrunched up and warm. She didn’t even bother to wake up when Tori took her. Instead she simply stretched, made a pouty face and then turned her cheek into Tori’s chest.

  “She’s beautiful,” Isobel’s sister cooed, standing up with the baby in her arms and grabbing a light blanket that was draped over one of the chairs. “That perfect little nose.” She draped the blanket over Sophie’s body before settling back down in the chair. “So dish. How’s the new job?”

  Isobel was about to open her mouth when the door from the patio opened and in walked a sweat-drenched, hot-as-fuck Aaron. His gray tank top was soaked, his face a mottled red and covered in sweat and his hair damp. He had earbuds in his ears and running shoes on.

  She thought he was still sleeping.

  She could not have been more wrong.

  Tori’s mouth dropped open.

  Aaron’s eyes narrowed on her before flashing up to Isobel. He wanted to know who the hell was in his house and holding his baby.

  Donning the biggest, most reassuring smile she could, Isobel wiped her hands on a tea towel and stepped out behind the counter. “Aaron, this is my sister, Tori. Tori, this is my boss, Aaron.” She was having a hard time not looking at him. The way his tank top clung to his stomach and chest left very little to the imagination, and his biceps and tattoos were in full view. “She texted me and asked if she could come meet Sophie, get her baby fix. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Tori stood up from the chair and offered Aaron her hand. “You have a lovely home.”

  He grunted and took her hand, though the reluctance in his body language was palpable.

  “Going to take a shower,” he said. “Need to go get more of Sophie’s shit from Dina’s today.” Then he headed past them and down the hall.

  Tori and her sister remained quiet until they heard the shower start.

  “Uncle John with no shirt on, sitting in a kiddie pool eating sauce-covered chicken wings,” Tori finally said.

  Was her sister having a stroke?

  Isobel looked at Tori as if she was suddenly speaking in tongues. “Huh?”

  “That’s what I would picture in my head when I was having dirty thoughts about Mark … before we … you know.”

  Isobel snorted and rolled her eyes, wandering back to her lettuce at the counter. “And look how well that turned out. You’re now madly in love with your boss and planning a future together.”

  Tori lifted a shoulder. “I’m just saying, you’re going to need some kind of a distraction if that sex on a fucking shish kebab is your boss. Especially if he’s wandering around the house looking like that. Was he all broody like that yesterday? I see a darkness around him.”

  “He just lost his sister. Of course he’s in a dark place. He’s grieving.” Memories of Aaron snapping at her last night and telling her not to say that word again interrupted her thoughts. “I’d be in a dark place—hell, I’d be destroyed if something ever happened to you. I get where he’s coming from, so I’m trying to give him some space. Give him a bye.”

  Tori’s eyes said she understood. “I’d be a fucking wreck if something happened to you too.”

  Isobel blew her a kiss.

  Tori caught it.

  “But you need something to mentally distract you from that gorgeous hunk, otherwise you’re going to wind up in a world of trouble.”

  “And you think thoughts of our barrel-chested, hairy-as-fuck disgusting uncle will help?”

  Tori bent her head and nuzzled Sophie’s head. “It can’t hurt. At least he’s finally being useful.”

  Isobel cracked a half smile. “True.”

  Her family thanked the universe after every big Jones family gathering that Gross Uncle John wasn’t a blood relative. Tori and Isobel’s dad’s sister had just chosen unwisely, thus inflicting the plague onto the rest of them.

  They heard the shower stop, and Tori’s back straightened. “So what are your hours? What days do you work? Mark’s heading to poker tonight. Is Aaron heading there too? Are you supposed to watch Sophie? Gabe’s with the respite worker tonight, so I’m free if you’re free and want to grab dinner or catch a movie.”

  Isobel nibbled on her lip in thought before speaking. “We s
tarted talking about my schedule last night, and he got all upset and stormed off. From what he said, he wants to me to work Tuesday through Saturday, including Saturday night so he can eventually start going to poker night, I’m assuming. But I get Sunday and Monday off. However, he also said he wants me to get up with Sophie between midnight and seven in the morning, so I don’t know if that includes Sunday and Monday.” She shook her head. “It’s all so messy. I’m working twelve-hour days, seven to seven, and he said to come to him with a wage in mind.” Her eyes bugged out. “I’ve never had to do that before. How awkward.”

  Tori flattened her lips into a thin line. “Yeah, sounds messy. Maybe today he’ll be in a better frame of mind. Yesterday had to be a bit overwhelming for him.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to offer to go to his sister’s place on my own. If the roles were reversed, I don’t know if I’d ever be ready to go to your home and through all your stuff.”

  “You want help?”

  The bathroom door opened, and Isobel couldn’t stop herself if she tried. Her eyes flew up from her sister’s face, and she watched a towel-only-clad Aaron saunter his big, wet frame down the hall toward his bedroom.

  He had more tattoos on his back—oh God!

  His door shut, and she finally released her breath.

  Tori let out a low whistle. “You are fucked, you know that, right?”

  Isobel’s gaze dropped down to her lettuce. “Yep.”

  Isobel tied the stretchy wrap at Aaron’s back, careful not to let his fresh manly smell or the heat from his body make her sway too much. “You just go for a walk with Soph. Tor and I will take care of the rest, okay?” she said, stowing her gasp when Aaron spun around and the intense pain in his blue eyes made her want to do everything she could to take away the hurt.

  He’d trimmed his beard, tidying it up a fair bit so it was now just a short scruff hugging his chiseled jaw. Oh boy, did he ever look good.

  She shoved down the desire to swoon. They were standing outside of Dina’s condo building, and ever since they arrived, Aaron had been twitchy and extra grunty.