The Woodsman's Nanny - A Single Daddy Romance

by Emerson Rose

  “She’s not my girlfriend. We work together, and she’s not gay.”

  I don’t think.

  “Huh. Could have fooled me. Anyway, give that a try. It’s comfortable and sexy. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

  She turns on her stiletto heel and struts away onto the sales floor.

  Marie, gay? Maybe she’s right.

  The cornflower blue baby doll set compliments my brown skin perfectly, and it’s so much more comfortable. Nosy sales lady seems to know best.

  I dress in my own clothes, and when I arrive at the register to pay, Marie is waiting, holding a bag with secretive tissue paper poking out the top in her hand.

  “You bought something.” I raise one brow and give her a nod of approval.

  “Yeah, it’s not much. Did you like anything?”

  “I’m getting these.” I hold up the baby doll set and the black one-piece Marie picked out. It won’t fit for long, but I think I’m good for the weekend.

  “Perfect.”

  Outside, Marie and I decide to walk down the busy street to a café for lunch. I’ve been really lucky, according to the books I’ve been reading. They say that if I were going to have morning sickness, it probably should have started by now.

  Smells, on the other hand—now that’s a different story. The smell of a street vendor’s Greek food stops me in my tracks.

  “You okay?” Marie asks when I halt in the middle of a sidewalk swarming with people.

  I hold up one finger and cover my mouth with my other hand. I lower my eyes to the ground and take a deep breath, waiting for my mouth to quit watering. When I’m 90% sure the nausea has passed, I start walking.

  “Sorry, those Gyros almost made me vomit.”

  “Yeah? I thought they smelled good.”

  I shake my head vigorously and lead Marie into the café. Safe inside away from the smells of the street, I start to feel better when a hostess seats us at a table by the window. Thankfully, there is an awning blocking the hot midday sun. I can’t put off asking Marie if she’s gay for another second.

  “Marie?”

  “What?” she says, rummaging through her purse.

  “Are you a lesbian?”

  She drops the lip-gloss she was just digging for back into her purse and she looks at me, panicked.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I was just wondering.”

  She takes a deep breath and hangs her purse on the back of her chair.

  “Yes, sort of. I’m Bi, but nobody at work knows I have a girlfriend. Please don’t mention it.”

  “Of course not. I would never say anything that you don’t want me to say, but why?”

  “I just don’t think it’s anybody’s business. They don’t need to know I swing both ways.”

  “Okay, well that makes sense then. I always wondered why such a pretty woman didn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s true.”

  “No, thanks for understanding, and for keeping it on the down low.”

  “It’s no big deal, but since we’re spilling secrets, can I tell you one?”

  “Of course. I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  It feels so weird to say it out loud. I haven’t told anyone, and Mom heard it secondhand from Dr. Kumar, so this is the first time I’ve spoken the words.

  “Wow,” she says.

  “I know.”

  “I mean, wow. I thought being bisexual was a big secret, but pregnant? Wow.”

  “Stop saying wow. It’s starting to freak me out.”

  “Okay, sorry.”

  “Who’s the dad—oh wait, it’s not Major hot pants, is it?”

  I nod yes.

  “Oh wow.”

  “Marie!”

  “Sorry. Does he know?”

  “No, I’m telling him this weekend.”

  “How far along are you? Oh no, wait, like twelve weeks, right? You met him three months ago.”

  “Yes, exactly twelve weeks.”

  “No morning sickness?”

  “Thankfully, no, just sensitive to smells.

  “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks, I feel pretty good too. A little tired, but that’s normal, I guess.”

  “Can I tell you another secret?” she says, lowering her eyes to her lap.

  “Sure, what is it, Marie?”

  “I had a baby once. I gave him up for adoption.”

  “Oh Marie, I didn’t mean to bring up a painful experience. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. I was nineteen and I had no way to support myself, let alone a baby. My parents handled the whole thing. He was better off.”

  “Anyway, I know about being pregnant if you ever have any questions.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that. I haven’t told anyone, so you’re all I got right now.”

  She places her hand on her chest. “I’m honored you chose me to be the first to know, even if it was spontaneously and because I told you I’m bisexual,” she says, tilting her head and looking up thoughtfully.

  We laugh and have lunch and skip out on work for the rest of the day.

  At home, I snip the tags off my purchases and fold them neatly in a drawer. I’ve become more conscious of being tidy recently. A certain Marine is rubbing off on me. Well, I guess I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m usually pretty messy and he’s a good influence. My apartment has never been cleaner.

  Except for my couch. Every time I walk through the living room, I laugh. I’ve considered taking a picture of the rainbow stained cushions and texting it to Lucas, but he’s not worth my time. I ordered new living room furniture the day after our cupcake session. It was liberating. I loved it.

  I waste away the rest of the day watching Netflix. I wish Major were here so we could Netflix and chill. Maybe I’ll text him. Yes, I definitely need to text him. Curled up on my rainbow couch, looking as unsexy as I can in my yoga pants, a tank top and big, fuzzy socks, I send a sext to Major.

  Me - What are you wearing?

  Major – Depends, who is this?

  Me – Rainbow bright.

  Major – Ah, I remember you. White couch . . . frosting . . . mmm.

  Me – Yep, so what are you wearing?

  Major – Black boxers.

  My mouth waters, and it’s not from nausea.

  Me – That’s all?

  Major – Yes, what are you wearing?

  I look down at my sad sleepwear and sigh. It’s not lying if it’s for a good cause, right?

  Me – White lace boy short panties and a push up bra.

  There’s a long pause before his response. Maybe he doesn’t sext? Then my phone pings again.

  Major – Are you in bed?

  Oh he sexts all right.

  Me – Yes.

  Major – Take off your panties.

  Oh God, am I actually going to do this? Yes, yes I am. I hop off the couch and go into my room. I scrunch my socks down with my feet and kick them off and take off my yoga pants and panties. I’m going to have to switch to voice texting if I wanna do this right, and I want to do this right.

  Major – Are they off?

  Me – Yes.

  Major – Pull your bra down under your breasts.

  Me – Okay.

  Major – Touch yourself.

  Me – I am.

  Major – Are you wet, Violet? I love your fucking name, Violet. Have I ever told you that?

  Me – Yes, I’m wet, really wet, and yes, I think you’ve told me that before.

  Major – Good. I’m in my bed now. I’m so hard for you it hurts.

  Shit, this is better than I thought it’d be.

  Me – Good. I love your big cock. Stroke it long and slow.

  Major – Fuck, Violet, you have a dirty mouth. I love it. Keep talking.

  Me – Think about my dirty mouth wrapped around your cock, taking every inch of you, sucking you dry. Do you like that, Major?


  Major – Yes, I fucking love that. Violet?

  Me – Yeah?

  Major – Slide your fingers inside your wet pussy, curl them around, and stroke your sweet spot.

  I’m thankful to Lucas for one thing and one thing only. He showed me where my G spot is at.

  Me – Ah God, that feels so good.

  Major – Now slide them out and circle your clit really slow. Do it slow, Violet, understand?

  Me – Okay, yeah, slow.

  Major – I wish I were there. I’d lick you back to front and make you come so hard you’d cry.

  Me – I may anyway. God, Major, are you almost there?

  Major – Yeah . . . but I’m Facetiming you. I need to see you.

  Shit! I’m ready to come and he wants to Facetime? I hurry and shed my tank top and try to position myself against the pillows so I look somewhat sexy. What did I get myself into?

  The phone makes a unique sound, indicating a facetime call is coming in. I press accept, and his gorgeous, flushed face appears.

  He shakes his head. “You’re so fucking sexy. I want to see you come for me, Violet. Are you ready?”

  “Uh huh,” I pant, on the edge of release. My hand is between my legs again, and seeing Major makes me wetter, if that’s even possible. I can see his body move. With every stroke of his cock, the muscles in his chest and shoulders flex.

  “Hold the phone back a little,” he says, and I try to position it so he can see more of me, but not too much more. I can’t even think straight. I can’t hold on much longer.

  “Fuck, Violet, you’re so beautiful. Come for me, baby.” His voice trails off in a strangled moan as he comes, and my eyes roll back in my head when the electric shock of my orgasm pulses through me. I drop the phone and ride the high of pleasuring myself at his command.

  “Violet? I’ve got a great view of your ceiling, baby. Pick up the phone.”

  I feel around the comforter and find it. “Sorry, I was a little distracted.”

  “Me too. I’m really glad you texted me. I’ve been missing you. We should do this more often.”

  He winks at me, and I almost come again. Major winking is so sexy. Not as sexy as Major coming, but a close second.

  “I agree, like every night.”

  “I’m always here. Next time, lets just start with the Facetime and skip the texting. I like to watch you.”

  I think I may be blushing. My cheeks feel hot.

  “You’re blushing, Ms. Washington.”

  I raise my hand to my hot cheek. “Nobody’s ever made me blush before.”

  “Hmm, good, keep it that way.”

  I worry my lip and squirm around, slipping under the covers. On my side, I prop the phone on the spare pillow and pretend he’s here in bed with me.

  “Chilly?”

  “Yeah, now that I’ve had a minute to cool off.”

  “I’m looking forward to keeping you warm this weekend.”

  He’s propped up on his pillows with his arm behind his head.

  “I like your tattoo. It’s hot.”

  “Are you trying to switch the focus off you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I say.

  “You will anyway, so go ahead.”

  “What does the one on your arm mean?”

  He has the words never ending story tattooed on his bicep with a continuous line all the way around it. I’ve never asked because I originally assumed it was a reference to being a sex machine or something arrogant, but now that I know about his wife, I’m not sure.

  “It’s not sexual, if that’s what you’re wondering, although it can be if you’d like,” he says with a mischievous smile on his lips.

  “At first I did think you were a little full of yourself.” He rolls his eyes.

  “It was for Katie. She was supposed to be my never ending story. I got it when we got married. Ironic, huh?”

  I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “The past is the past. Maybe I’ll have a never ending story with someone else now.”

  I look away from the screen. I don’t want him to see how much I wish that someone else could be me.

  “Don’t look away, Violet. I’m talking about you. You believe me when I tell you that, don’t you? I don’t ever want you to doubt how I feel for you again. I don’t do this. I mean it . . . never. I’m a hit it and quit it kind of guy, or at least I was until you came crashing into my life.”

  I can’t hold back anymore. These pregnancy hormones are a bitch. Tears spill from my eyes, pooling against my nose on one side and streaking onto my pillow from the other. If he were here with me right now, I’d tell him I’m pregnant.

  That has to be a face-to-face conversation though. I couldn’t spring that on him and then hang up the phone. I would wonder what he was thinking, how he was feeling, if he was angry or happy. I need to be able to touch him and feel his body language when he finds out, preferably in bed, where he won’t leave me alone . . . I hope.

  “You bumped into me,” I say, laughing and crying at the same time.

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.”

  23

  Precious Cargo

  Major

  TGI fucking Friday. I have never been so glad to see a week come to an end. Edith has my house in perfect order, just the way I like it, and I’m packed and on my way to San Diego with Garcia. We figured we might as well drive up together. It seemed stupid to have two cars when we’re all going the same places. We decided to book two rooms at the Fairmount Grand Del Mar for the weekend to do some golfing and swimming. I could spend the entire weekend in bed with Violet, but I want to get to know her more outside the bedroom too.

  “So you and Kimber have been spending a lot of time together huh?”

  “Yeah, all this driving back and forth is killing me. I’m down here at least three times a week,” Garcia says.

  “Wow, maybe one of you ought to move,” I say to mess with him.

  “Somebody’s going to have to. I’m asking her to marry me this weekend.”

  “Whoa, I was just joking, man. You’re really gonna marry her?”

  “Yes, you got a problem with that?” He says, sounding genuinely pissed. Garcia’s never been disrespectful or rude to me. He must really have it bad for this woman to be that protective.

  “No, just surprised, that’s all. She’s a great girl. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.” I slap him on his shoulder, and the deep grooves on his forehead disappear.

  “Thanks. Sorry. I caught a bunch of shit from my brothers this week when I told them. They think I’m crazy, asking a pregnant woman to marry me.”

  “Takes a very honorable man to do that. I admire that about you.”

  “Thanks, it’s good to have somebody on my side.”

  “So when are you popping the question?” I ask.

  “Saturday night.”

  “Doing something trendy or just sticking with the traditional down on one knee method?”

  “Traditional. I’m not into all that treasure map, ring in the champagne glass shit. I’m serious about her. I want her to know it.”

  “I agree, straight forward and simple.”

  “You don’t think that’s too boring?”

  “You just told me you wanted her to know you’re serious. Serious isn’t boring, it’s . . . serious.”

  “Yeah, I’m just nervous, ya know? She’s been burned by marriage once. I’m sorta spooked she might not want to go down that road again.”

  “Maybe she learned from it and she knows a good thing when she sees it now.”

  “I fucking hope so.”

  We check in, and I call Violet from our room.

  “Hi, beautiful.”

  “Hi, are you in town yet?” she asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then why aren’t you here?”

  “Because I have a surprise for you.”

  “I love surprises. Tell me.”


  “Wouldn’t be a surprise then, silly. Grab a sexy bikini and pack a bag for the weekend. I’ll be over to get you in twenty.”

  “Are we going somewhere?” She sounds giddy and excited, like a little kid going to Disney World.

  “Sort of, just bring a swimsuit, a dress, and something casual to wear golfing.”

  “Golfing? I haven’t been golfing since the week I met you.”

  “Well, we’re going to change that this weekend. Get packed. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  Violet

  A bikini. Shit, I can’t wear a bikini with this baby bump. But that’s all I’ve got to wear swimming, and I don’t have time to shop. I guess this means I’m telling him before we go to the pool, whenever that is.

  We had plans to go to dinner tonight with Garcia and Kimber, so I already have a dress picked out. I toss my toiletries in an overnight bag with a tiny red bikini, my new lingerie, and a couple of casual tops and shorts. I’m ready in only five minutes. Now I get to fidget until he shows up. I love surprises, but I’m not very patient. I grab my dress that is covered in dry cleaner plastic and my bag and go down to the lobby to wait.

  He pulls up in front of my building precisely twenty minutes after we hung up. I watch him get out of the Lexus and walk to the glass doors. His confident, masculine stride gives me butterflies in my belly. I should stand up and go meet him, but I can’t resist staying put and watching him come to me.

  When he catches sight of me he saunters over with a smirk on his face.

  “What’s with the smirk? I ask when he offers me his hand.

  “You’re sitting here watching me like a puma stalking her prey. You’ve got fuck me written all over your face.”

  Without thinking, I lift my hand to my cheek and he laughs.

  “You’re adorable,” he says and presses a soft kiss to my lips before taking my hand and picking up my bag.

  “Do you have your own clubs?” he asks.

  I’m still thinking about having fuck me written on my face, and he has to repeat his question.

  “Violet?”

  “Huh?” I say, looking into his bright greens.

  “Clubs?”

  “Oh, no, they’re at my mom’s. I don’t have room for them here.”

  “I can run and get them tomorrow. That’s fine.”