The Nanny: A Single Dad Romance

by Aria Ford

  The mere fact that thinking of him made my mind run down those tracks surprised me. Hell, this was the first time he’d been into my house, and I was already wondering if I was serious about him. This was all happening a bit fast! But then, recalling the way his eyes looked into mine, it wasn’t like any of that made sense.

  He was looking at me with more than a friendly politeness. I felt my face flush remembering that look. He wants you too.

  I snorted. That’s rubbish, Ms. Price, I told myself crossly. “He’s just friendly.”

  He had given me a free roof repair. He was a nice man. Was he nice nice? Yes, he was. Very, very much so. But I wasn’t going to go there. Not yet.

  I fell asleep with thoughts of Riley in my head and had tumbled, confused dreams. When I woke it was early morning. I could hear the birds singing in the trees. I strained to hear if Parker was awake, and sure enough, I heard the patter of little feet.

  “Baby!” I yelled, bursting out of the door still in my pajamas.

  “Whee! Mommy!” she yelled. She embraced me and I lifted her off the floor, surprising myself with the depth of my love.

  “Happy Christmas!” I said and she echoed it almost at the same time. I sniffed, noting that I was crying again. She looked up at me quizzically but didn’t ask why I was crying, which was a good thing.

  “Father Christmas came,” she informed me. “Come and see!”

  “Ooh!” I said, excited. I had remembered to put the presents under the tree the previous night and the effort was well worth it when she led me in with such an expression of wonder it made my heart flip.

  “Look, Mommy!” she said in delight. “He brought me lots of things!”

  “He did,” I nodded. “Are you going to unwrap them?”

  “Can I?”

  Her reticence stabbed at my heart. How had I not noticed how, since Richard and I started fighting so often, she had turned from a lively, fun-loving child into a cautious, wounded individual, perpetually worried?

  “Of course you can,” I said. She nodded. She went over and retrieved one and started unwrapping with, I noticed thankfully, more enthusiasm than she let on. I fiddled with the CD player and put on Christmas music.

  The morning passed surprisingly quickly, and before long it was time to get ready for dinner. As I dressed, I found myself thinking about Riley.

  “Should I wear the usual sweater?” I asked myself. “Or the red dress?”

  The thought surprised me. I hadn’t thought about the red dress for years. Not since Richard told me that I was showing myself off to other men. Now, I stood in front of the closet with a frown on my face. The red dress hung there, unused. I took it out and let it slide smoothly off the hanger into my hand.

  “You know what? I’m going to do it.”

  With a sudden stab of rebellious joy, I slid the dress over my undies and stood back from the mirror.

  Yes. I thought. That’s me.

  A red-haired woman of medium height looked back at me. Her curvaceous body was draped in burgundy velvet that clung to her breasts and draped her hips. Her face was defiant. Triumphant. She was alive. Sexy, sassy and alive. I turned, watching the fabric shimmer and swirl. I grinned over my shoulder and then wafted downstairs.

  I found myself looking into a pair of brown eyes.

  “Oh…” I covered my mouth with my hands. I had forgotten it was twelve o’ clock. I stepped down the last step and into the hallway opposite Riley Robson.

  “Mrs. Price?” he said. He was looking at me with a sort of wonderment on his face. I blushed, then shrugged.

  Probably wasn’t expecting me to just appear like that.

  “Brooklyn,” I said automatically. “Happy Christmas.”

  “Oh. Yes. Happy Christmas!” He said with a big slightly nervous grin. I smiled up at him—I couldn’t help it. He looked at once eager and a little goofy at the same time.

  “Well,” I said with a slightly helpless shrug. “Here you are. Shall we sit down.”

  “Uh. Yeah. Thanks,” he added. He followed me into the kitchen. He looked really uncomfortable, and I wondered why. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t dressed up much.

  On reflection, actually he had. He was wearing a khaki shirt and dark-brown trousers that fit his legs perfectly. It was a mix of casual and smart that made him look sizzling. I went over to the oven and distracted myself checking the roast.

  “Okay,” I said. “We can eat.”

  I found myself addressing an empty kitchen. Which was a bit annoying, really, considering that I had taken the trouble to set the table and decorate with streamers and a plastic wreath I bought last week at Aldi.

  “Guys?” I called.

  I went out into the hall and found Riley and Parker sitting on the floor. Parker was showing him the Barbie car I had bought her for Christmas.

  “An’ look, Mister Riley…it can fit two people in tha’ front, an’ a baby seat in tha’ back.”

  “It’s a good car,” Riley observed, sounding as if he was discussing a real car with an adult buyer. “Nice, solid wheels on the thing…look how nicely it goes.”

  She chuckled as he pushed the car forward with a “whoosh” noise. I found myself blinking rapidly. Richard would never have done that. He would have been too busy trying to make Parker prefer the gifts he had chosen.

  “Guys?” I asked softly. They looked up.

  “Oh, sorry,” Riley grinned, dusting off his trouser legs. “Got distracted. Cars do that to me.”

  “Well, dinner’s ready,” I offered.

  “Dinner!” Riley grinned. I felt the warmth of that grin tingle right through me, all the way down to my toes. “Now that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “Yay!” Parker exclaimed, and dashed into the kitchen ahead of him, climbing into her seat. She looked so pretty in the little blue dress I’d bought her—a small blond Christmas angel.

  We all sat down to dinner. Riley ate the first course—cream of pea soup—with such relish that it made me smile. His eyes met mine.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I answered, coughing.

  Maybe it was purely an accident, but his knee moved to press against mine at that moment. I jumped. It might also have been imagination that his grin deepened. Either way, I left my knee where it was. The feel of his body alongside mine made my heart thump in my chest. He looked up at me and our gazes locked.

  He spoke.

  “What?” I asked. I hadn’t heard a word of it. My mind was elsewhere, focused on similar wild imaginings to the ones I had been thinking of last night in bed.

  He chuckled. “I asked if you could pass me the pepper, please?”

  “Oh!” I flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry. I was miles away.”

  “So was I.” He grinned. “But thanks,” he added as I passed him the pepper.

  I looked across at Parker, who was staring between us as if we had both lost our minds. I smiled. I suppose we must have seemed strange.

  “Well,” I said, looking at everyone’s plates a moment later. “It looks like we’re ready for the second course, right?”

  “You said it, partner,” he said in a fake Cowboy accent. I laughed. It was only when I was cutting up the main course that I realized it felt right to have him call me “partner”. I let out a deep breath.

  Stop getting distracted, Brooklyn. This is ridiculous. He is the handyman and you’re thanking him with a Christmas lunch you were meant to share with your aunt. It’s straightforward.

  All the same, it didn’t seem straightforward. He came over to see what I was doing and his body leaned against my back. I shivered and tensed.

  “How’s that coming on?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I said, struggling to keep my voice level. Dammit but he knew how to get to me! I was shaking, now, with pent-up desire. I finished spooning boiled vegetables onto our plates and carried my and Parker’s dinner through to the table.

  “Goody!” Parker said. “You like chicken, Mr
. Riley?”

  “I do, yeah,” he said. “And this smells amazing.” He breathed in the savory steam with the air of a connoisseur. I laughed at him.

  “Well then,” I said, lifting a glass of orange juice. “Cheers!”

  “Cheers!” Parker exclaimed, clashing her glass against mine with all the force of a very small freight train. I giggled.

  “Heck, Parker, sweetie! We’re lucky these are sturdy glasses!”

  “Cheers!” she said, clicking glasses with Riley.

  “Cheers,” he replied to her, and gave me a grin. I smiled back.

  We ate in contented silence and, during the pudding, the knee came back and leaned on mine. This time I knew he meant it. He looked into my eyes, and I looked into his, and the gooseflesh started on my arms. I felt as if my loins were slowly catching fire.

  “I’m sleepy, Mommy,” Parker said at length. I nodded.

  “Me too, honey pie.” I replied. “Well, maybe you can lie down. I’m going to wash up.”

  Parker slid out of her chair, took Bluesy, and headed up the stairs.

  “See you in a minute, sweetie,” I called to her. “I’ll just finish down here first.”

  “I’m going to help,” Riley interrupted, pushing in his chair.

  “No! You’re a guest,” I protested, then laughed as he poked my shoulder.

  “And you are the best cook in the neighborhood, and I’ll not have you washing up too,” he said.

  “No, stop it, Riley,” I protested as he packed the dishes into the sink. “I’m warning you…”

  Laughing, I elbowed him out of the way and he jostled with me and soon we were both in hysterics, leaning on the sink, shoulders shaking with mirth.

  “Oh,” I said, sniffing back a tear. “I haven’t laughed like that for ages.”

  “No, me neither,” he said.

  We were very close and we were looking into each other’s eyes. He leaned forward and I leaned forward and out lips met.

  A shock of wonderment thrilled through me as his lips slid over mine. They were sweet from the dessert and they were warm and so gentle. He nibbled my lip in slow exploration. I sighed and leaned against him. His arms drew me to him, and the kiss became hungrier.

  I gasped as his tongue slid in between my lips, penetrating the gap between. I leaned against him and was surprised to find myself aching with the need for more.

  “Whoa,” I said, as he stepped back. I was panting and his breath was tight in his throat too. We looked at each other. I was hungry for him the way I had forgotten how to be hungry. My eyes were sightless with need, my body throbbing with want.

  “Oh, Brooklyn,” he murmured. “Oh, my.”

  “Now,” I said, clearing my throat, “we have to do dishes.”

  “Yes,” he agreed meekly.

  Oddly, he seemed to decide it was better just to listen, and with a respectful silence he took the plates as I rinsed them and stacked them in the dishwasher.

  “I should fix the spring in the door,” he murmured as he closed it. “It’s broken.”

  “It is,” I nodded, grimacing as I helped him to jiggle the door into place and click it closed.

  “It wouldn’t take two minutes to fix it,” he said. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Piece of…”

  “No,” I interrupted whatever he was going to say.

  “What?” he asked. His brow shot up and he looked down at me like a quizzical Disney Prince.

  “No,” I said again, more quietly this time. “I won’t let you do any more things for free around the house. This is getting silly, Riley. We’re adults.”

  “Yeah,” he chuckled. “You can say that again.”

  I closed my eyes. “Stop it, Riley. I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  He was very close to me and his eyes warmed my skin as if he touched me. I wanted him.

  “No. Stop it,” I said, wrenching impatiently aside. “I am a mother, Riley.”

  “I know,” he said seriously. “I respect that.”

  “You don’t seem to realize what it means,” I said quietly. “It means I can’t just go randomly hooking up with strangers. I can’t have here today, gone tomorrow arrangements. My kid needs security.”

  “I know,” Riley said. “I respect that.”

  “Well then,” I said, feeling annoyed with him but not knowing why. I bustled about the kitchen, turning my back. “You understand why we can’t…do these things.”

  “I understand,” Riley sighed. “I do.”

  “Okay,” I said. Damn it. Why was I so sad? I almost wanted him to argue the point, to say he disagreed; that we should feel free to kiss and make out in my kitchen anytime we wanted to. But of course I knew we couldn’t.

  “I respect your need to have stability for Parker,” he said softly. “But at the same time, I can offer you something. Would you…” He paused. “No. I can’t ask that. Not now. It’s complicated.”

  “Ask me, Riley,” I said woodenly. “I’m here. I’m listening.”

  “No,” he said. “I can’t ask you that now. You wouldn’t understand. I need to show you something first.”

  “Show me what?” I was curious. Part of me wanted it to be something really personal. Something along the lines of “I’ll show you mine…”. I shook my head. Stop it, Brooklyn!

  “Okay,” he said. “Want a walk?”

  “What?” I blinked.

  “I said, will you come for a short walk with me?”

  “How short? I mean…” I was already heading up the stairs to check on Parker. “I can’t leave her in the house alone, Riley.”

  “It’s not far, I promise. In fact, we can see it from here if you come into the front yard? Or onto the pavement. It’ll be minutes.”

  “Okay.” I let him step in front of me and opened the front door, and then he followed me to the street. “I’m looking.”

  “See that garage?” he asked, pointing up the road to an old cement edifice on the corner opposite.

  “Mm,” I agreed. It had stood on the intersection between Ascot and Maine street since I could remember. I had no idea what it was or if anyone used it. It looked like a small warehouse more than a large garage, I always thought.

  “Well, I want that,” Riley said simply. I frowned at him.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “I don’t know why, but good for you,” I nodded. I was confused. Why was he showing me a warehouse? What had it to do with me?

  “Okay,” he said. He looked relieved. “Shall we go in now?”

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  We went in and I went to the kitchen, to finish tidying up. He followed me. “So,” he said. He looked at me with a questioning look, as if wanting to ask what I thought of something.

  “So?” I said. I felt myself slowly losing patience. “For Pete’s sakes, Riley,” I said. “Just tell me what this is all about. Please?”

  He sighed. “Okay. It’s…” he paused. “When I first started my business, what I really wanted was to sell cars. I know, it sounds like a weird ambition. But I love cars. I love working on them, fixing them, driving them. I…” He sighed. “Okay, that’s off topic. What I wanted to say was, I want to start my own business.”

  “Yes?” I said cautiously. “So? I think that’s a great idea. You want to rent that big building there and start a garage, or a dealership. Good for you. What’s it to do with me?”

  He sighed. “The reason I’m telling you is because…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty much broke, Brooklyn.”

  “Okay,” I said again. “So am I.”

  I had to say it—if this was some kind of weird run-up to asking me for a loan, I needed him to know that I was not exactly rolling in wealth either. Richard paid a bit each month in maintenance—not really enough to cover Parker’s school fees—and the rest I earned in my secretarial job. I didn’t have the money to lend even if I wanted to. And at this point I wasn’t really sure I wanted to.

  “Well,” he sighed. “I’m sorry to hear
that, but not for myself. I’m not asking for a loan, Brooklyn. I’m asking you to be my wife.”

  End of Sneak Peek, click here to read the full story: Temporary Wife

  Brother’s Best Friend Unwrapped

  Chapter One

  Amelia

  “Whew!”

  I sighed as I collapsed through the door of my apartment in Berkeley, shivering from the cold wind. I put my shopping bags on the floor and blew self-made hot air on my fingers, trying to warm them. As I slammed the door behind me, shutting out the freezing cold wind, I said an inner prayer of thanks for the heating system and hung my coat on the peg by the door.

  It doesn’t seem possible that it’s December already.

  It was the twentieth already, and I had just finished my shopping. Pausing to wipe my shoes neatly on the welcome mat, I carried my stuff through to the kitchen to unpack. My neat, pristine, Account-style organized home offered me its bleak welcome on the way past.

  That wind does destroy one’s good hair days, I thought ruefully, catching my own eye in the tall mirror by the kitchen. My honey-brown hair was wispy and had fluffed out around my face, flushed with cold. I blinked blue eyes, damp with the wind.

  With the cold, at least my cheeks are pink.

  It was the best I could think to say for myself as I hefted the shopping bags and headed to the kitchen. I knew I was self-critical; most people said I was pretty and on my good days I could see it. Right now, I was cold and stressed and all I wanted to do was check if I’d finished my last-minute gift-shopping. In the kitchen, I lifted the weight of it onto the counter and opened it carefully.

  In the bag were some basic groceries and some gifts: socks and chocolates for Brett, my big brother, and some little surprises for his kids, Cayley and Josh, bought at the local sweet-shop. I was sure I would see them sometime this holiday, but I didn’t know when.

  “I hope he lets me know soon.”

  As I unpacked the rest of my groceries, I silently swore at my elder brother, Brett, for failing to let me know when I was expected to arrive. He was always like that—impulsive and unpredictable. From the time when he spontaneously brought the entire junior football team back to our house without warning, to the time he announced out of the blue that he was flying to LA for a job interview, my elder brother’s been surprising me. I just hoped that he might think to give me some warning about his Christmas plans.