by Kendall Ryan
Almost as if she’d read my mind, my tiny daughter let out a peal of maniacal laughter that sent a chill straight down my spine.
Famous last words.
Chapter Four
Addison
I let out a slow, calming breath and then forced myself to hold in my squeak of glee when I opened the door.
“Guess what?” I swung my arms wide, careful not to fling the bag of takeout in my hand across the room.
Lara turned around, midway through stirring whatever was in the skillet on the stove.
I frowned, my shoulders slumping. “I brought home dinner. I thought it was my night.”
Lara shrugged, shooting me a half smile. “Figured you’d be busy, so I made chicken marsala.”
I pushed the door closed behind me, practically trembling with excitement.
“But I’m guessing that’s not what you came in here all fired up to tell me?” Lara said.
I skirted around the couch, still pulled out from the night before, and set the bag of food on the counter. “No. It’s not.” The squeak I’d been holding in escaped, sounding like the air coming out of a balloon. “I got the job, and I start tomorrow!”
“Holy shit, yay! That was fast.” Lara’s eyes widened. “So, what do you think?”
“I think it’s perfect. The house is on the cutest little street.” I pressed my hand to my heart.
Maxwell Alexander lived in a well-kept two-story brick house tucked back on a deep lot filled with mature trees. It was a very pretty home . . . white brick with black shutters framing the windows, a big front porch, and a bright red front door.
“My favorite thing about it was the trees. It makes you feel safe, like you’re hidden away in the woods.” Then again, that could have been because symbolically, and maybe literally, I was all about hiding.
But not anymore. I wasn’t hiding at this job. There, with baby Dylan, I was going to be my authentic self. I was going to be completely and totally honest.
Except, of course, for one tiny little detail . . .
“All right, girl, relax. You’re just working there, you’re not getting buried there,” Lara said with a chuckle.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s just the perfect environment. And this little girl—oh my God, you should see her. She’s an absolute dream.”
“How can a one-year-old be a dream? They’re like screaming little poop machines,” Lara said with a shudder.
“She never cried. She came right to me, and she was a complete delight. I think it’s going to be perfect.”
I let out another long sigh, picturing the untidy living room. Before long, it was going to be cluttered with toys and books, and I would be there with Dylan, taking care of her and doing what I was always meant to do. And then in the evening, I’d make dinner, and Max would come home and . . .
And I would let them enjoy their family time. And stay far away from her hottie of a daddy, Max. Because the new Addison was firmly rooted in reality and aware of everything going on around her.
Lara spooned the chicken, mushrooms, rice, and sauce onto plates, and I grabbed some naan and hummus from the bag I’d brought. We sat together at the tiny table in the corner of the room to eat.
“Tell me, how was your day? I’m totally hogging the spotlight,” I said, feeling like a bit of a fraud for not even mentioning how sexy Max was. It was so not relevant, but still.
“No, no,” Lara said as she forked her chicken. “My day was nothing to write home about. I want to hear more about you. Go on.”
“Well . . .” I searched my brain. “I think he’s going to need some help with the baby’s room. I don’t get the feeling that he has a passion for decorating. But that will be a fun job for me, I think.”
“What’s he like?” Lara raised her eyebrows. “Cute?”
I shrugged and tried to keep my cheeks from flushing. “Sure. I mean, yeah, I guess.”
Lara chewed, then after she swallowed, asked, “How did he end up a single father? Is he divorced or a widower?”
I frowned. “Oh, I, um, didn’t ask.”
Of course, it had occurred to me to ask, but given my frantic heartbeat and near-panting status when I got within five feet of the guy, I thought it was probably best not to focus too much on how single he was. After all, it was an interview, not a speed date.
“Weird.” Lara shook her head. “Men almost never get custody.”
“I guess not. I didn’t really think about it.”
“Too taken with the picturesque neighborhood and hobbit-like forest?” Lara laughed.
“Oh, make your jokes, but I’m telling you, you would be knocked out by this place too. I think I can really make a difference here. Max has this cool philosophy about making sure Dylan—that’s the baby—stays down to earth. No Snow White nonsense for her, just a pink tool set and a good strong work ethic.”
Lara pursed her lips. “No dress-up?”
“Not the princess kind.” I picked off a piece of naan and popped it into my mouth. “I think it’s good. Healthy.”
“Whatever you say. You’re the nanny.” She held up her hands in surrender and then retrieved her fork.
“Yeah, I think this could really work out, you know? It could be really, really great,” I repeated, then took another bite of my food, although I barely tasted it.
Instead, I was thinking about the house. And Dylan.
And what it was going to be like when tomorrow came and I was all alone there.
With Max.
If he noticed the way I’d looked at him, he definitely wouldn’t have given me the job. I had to hope that the charisma pouring off him and the effect of that smoking-hot bod wore off once we spent a few days around each other. Otherwise? I was in big trouble. And I wasn’t about to ruin this dream opportunity.
“Are you nervous about living with a strange man?” Lara asked, and I blinked for a minute, certain she could read my mind.
“No, no, of course not. It’s professional. Totally professional.” I stumbled over the words and Lara smirked.
“I never said it wasn’t. Unless you think—”
“No, I don’t. I said yesterday, remember? I’ve sworn off men. I clearly can’t be trusted to make the right choices. I was with Greg and then, bam. All my dreams were gone. Two years of my life wasted.”
“But we weren’t talking about romance, I thought?” Lara asked lightly.
“We’re not. I’m just saying—” I shook my head. “Ugh, it came out all wrong.”
“So he’s hot, huh?” Lara asked, that knowing smirk still mocking me.
I wanted to bang my head against the dining room table. “Yes,” I confessed on an exhale. “He’s gorgeous. He’s tall and tanned and muscular, and he’s got that jaw—you know how some guys have that defined jaw?”
“I do.” Lara nodded.
“But anyway, I’m not going to get involved with him,” I pronounced.
“Because you’ve sworn off men?”
“And because he’s my boss,” I sputtered. “Can you imagine the disaster? I’m not going to be homeless and jobless again. Not ever.”
Lara shrugged. “Probably a smart move. But are you sure you can resist him?”
I snorted. “Positive,” I said with a nod.
Then I thought back to the way he’d looked when he opened the door, his hair all messy, his face in need of a shave, that scowl painted across his full lips, and the bad-boy ink on both forearms. He wasn’t like any other man I’d ever seen in real life, and certainly none that I’d dated.
In truth? That was no small part of the appeal. But self-destructive, bad-decision-making Addison was dead and gone.
And she was going to stay that way.
Chapter Five
Max
Ding-dong.
I whirled around just as the toast popped up from the toaster and Dylan shrieked from her high chair.
“What the . . .” I glanced at the clock. It was seven thirty—a full thirty minutes before the
nanny was supposed to be here. I hadn’t even combed my hair or brushed my teeth yet. And as for the kitchen?
I glanced around, looking for any place where the counter was actually visible.
“Damn,” I mumbled, and then plowed my fingers through my hair as I made for the door. When I opened it, I found Addison on the step with a suitcase, her long brown hair swept into a neat ponytail on top of her head.
“Good morning,” she chirped.
I’d bypassed my typical morning wood since I’d been awakened by the sounds of the baby screeching, but now, with Addison at the door like the opening shot to a porno flick titled Naughty Nanny’s First Day, my cock swelled.
“Uh, hi. You’re early,” I said, stepping aside so she could walk into the foyer. Catching sight of her bag, I scrubbed my hand over my face. “Shit, you probably have stuff you wanted to bring. Should I have sent some movers or—”
She shook her head and held up a hand. “I’m completely fine. I’ve got everything I need. I’m just going to run my stuff upstairs, and we can get started.”
“Perfect,” I said, my tone slightly annoyed as she headed for the stairwell beside me while I was careful not to reel around and try to catch a glimpse of that round peach of an ass.
God, five minutes in and I was already acting like a fuck-stick. What was wrong with me?
Dylan squealed again and I rushed for the kitchen, pulling the bread from the toaster and slathering a healthy portion of peanut butter over the browned surface.
“There you go, kid.” I set the toast onto the tray of her high chair. “One for you, and one for me.”
She reached for my piece, ignoring her own, but I chomped on it, brushing away some of the crumbs I was dropping all over the floor.
Watching Dylan navigate her piece of toast, I was suddenly hit with a wave of worry. Am I doing the right thing by leaving her here today with a perfect stranger?
The coffeepot dinged and I made my way over, briefly debating whether to pour one mug or two before realizing there was only one clean mug left, anyway.
“All right, all settled.” Addison appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a light blue button-down top with polka dots. It was prim and proper, very Carol Brady—not that Addison was old enough to know who that was.
She glanced around the room and winced, but then covered it quickly with a smile. “I can take it from here.” She aimed that grin at Dylan, who cooed in delight. “All I need to know is what Dylan’s daily schedule is usually like.”
She turned her gaze on me and I frowned, unsure how to respond. “Her schedule?” Dylan was a baby. She didn’t exactly have a to-do list.
“Yeah, what kind of routine do you guys have?”
I blinked. “We, um, we’re sort of free spirits. Not much of a schedule.”
Addison tilted her head slightly, but her expression didn’t change from its placid, thoughtful state. “That’s cool. Since I’m new around here, Dylan and I can probably develop our own schedule over time. You’ll be surprised what a difference routines make for little ones. I’m sure you’ll see the improvement.”
“I’m sure I will.” I glanced at the door, then back at Addison. “Maybe I should stay around since this is your first day? I can work from home while you learn the ropes. I don’t want to just toss you in here.”
Dylan cackled, and I became uncomfortably aware of the electricity buzzing between Addison and me.
This poor woman must think I’m insane. One minute I’m an asshole, and the next I’m leering at her.
She swept her arm through the air, waving me off. “Don’t be silly. You need to work, and Dylan and I need a schedule. It’s a perfect arrangement for everyone.”
“I left a list of important information on the fridge. Phone numbers too.”
Addison nodded. “I appreciate that.”
Already, she was wiping away the smudge of peanut butter from Dylan’s cheek and clearing the crumbs from her high-chair tray.
“Don’t be afraid to use it, all right?” I said, suddenly filled with a strange apprehension at the thought of leaving.
“I won’t.” She picked up a few errant mugs from the table in front of the wide bay window and plunked them on top of the mound of dishes that filled the sink. “It’s almost eight. You should probably get going. Do you need some coffee first?” She motioned to the pot, and I shook my head.
“No, no, I’m fine. That’s for you.”
She grinned. “Thanks, that’s really nice.”
“Don’t be afraid to call me if something is wrong. My cell is the first number on the list.”
“You bet. Don’t worry. You have my number, and everything is going to be great,” she said encouragingly. The dimple in her cheek made the briefest appearance, and despite myself, my lips split into a matching smile.
“Yeah.” I nodded, and I wasn’t sure how she did it, but twenty minutes later, she managed to push me out the door of my own house. Before I knew it, I was standing on the steps where she’d been only moments before, staring at my truck and digging in my pocket for my keys.
I had half a mind to walk back in there and read aloud to her everything I’d written down. I was nearly to the point of turning the handle when she appeared with Dylan at the front window, both of them waving me off.
“Bye-bye, Daddy,” Addison cooed. “Say bye-bye.”
I waved back at them, then trudged toward my truck with a full heart. As I backed out of the driveway, they never moved from where they stood. All the while they waved after me, and I watched them in my rearview mirror until they were only specks.
How could Jenn have left Dylan with me like that when it was making my gut churn just to leave her behind with the nanny? I shook my head, marveling at the oddness of parenthood, and doing my best to ignore the little voice in my head that urged me to turn around and go back home to be with Dylan again.
Maybe that was why the drive to work felt so exceptionally long. It was like every light turned red and all the traffic crawled to a standstill. My only options were to the stare at the clock on the dashboard, or wait for my phone to buzz with news about the baby. I knew that any second I would get a message asking me to come home, or telling me that Dylan was sick or . . .
I took a deep breath. My office building was just ahead of me now, and I pulled into my parking space, suddenly overcome with exhaustion.
“Coffee,” I muttered to myself. “I’ve got to get some coffee.”
Climbing out of my truck, I pulled my cell from my pocket and glanced at the home screen. It was cheesy, I knew, but Dylan’s face stared back at me from the photo I’d taken yesterday and chosen as my wallpaper, a spit bubble still wet on her lips. No messages.
“Probably still having breakfast,” I said, then internally scolded myself. I couldn’t go through the entire day talking to myself. I wasn’t going to become that guy—that nervous parent who left the office at lunchtime because he couldn’t stand to be away from his kid.
Dylan was in good hands. I just had to be patient. I could do this.
With all that in mind, I climbed the stairs to my office and managed to only check my cell another four times before opening my door and trudging toward my Keurig. As I popped a K-cup into place, Tiffany hurried through the door, her red hair slightly mussed.
“Damn, I was trying to beat you to the coffeepot.” She blew out a shallow breath, then held her chest as it rose and fell in quick succession.
“Did you actually run in here?”
She smiled. “Maybe.”
Laughing at herself, she took a seat across from my desk, and we reviewed the notes and agenda for the day. A few times, she paused, and I knew she was on the brink of asking me about Dylan, but either my serious gaze or her own inhibitions stopped her. Whatever the reason was, though, I was grateful for it.
“Okay, I think that’s everything,” I said, and my phone buzzed against the rustic wood surface of my desk.
Without bothering to excuse mys
elf, I snatched up the phone and thumbed it open. Dylan stared back at me, but this time it wasn’t my wallpaper photo—she was in her high chair mixing something in a bright yellow bowl and making a mess of it, her head tossed back in mid-laugh. I scrolled down and read the text.
Addison: Someone likes banana pancakes!
The text featured a little monkey emoji beneath it, and I smiled.
“Everything all right?” Tiffany asked, and I was surprised to see her still standing there as I looked up.
“Yeah, everything’s great.”
She cocked her head and then backed away. “All right then, if you’re sure.”
After she left, I stared at the door, still thinking of Dylan mixing her pancake ingredients. I would never have thought to cook with her or have her help like that, not when she was so young. I’d be too nervous about the stove or her somehow getting to one of the knives . . .
I sipped my coffee, blowing a deep breath out my nose. Even now, with all these hypothetical worries trampling my thoughts, I felt better than I had in the last three days combined. The panic of being a parent, of being responsible for another person’s life, was still there, churning away at the back of my mind, but I was feeling better by the second. Sure, Dylan might get near the stove or the knives when I was around, but I knew Addison would never let that happen. She had a knack. She was a natural at this in a way I wasn’t.
And the way she looked at Dylan? Addison was the one thing I knew I didn’t have to worry about.
For the next few hours, I timed myself—only allowing myself to glance at my phone every thirty minutes. Even then, I didn’t allow myself to text and ask how Dylan was doing. The girls needed time to bond, and I needed to work. God knew I needed to work.
Around two, though, my phone chimed again and I found another picture waiting for me. This time Addison and Dylan were laughing together, each of them holding sparkly Play-Doh in their hands. Had Addison brought toys with her? She didn’t have to do that.
My heart melted when I read the message underneath.
Addison: Don’t worry, even the sparkles are non-toxic. We’re learning not to eat play dough.
