Her tone is as deadpan as her expression and makes something inside my gut knot with unease.
“Guess what, Mia. Daddy’s taking us to Disneyland when his season is over, and I get to meet Elsa.”
“That’s great, Lily. You’re going to have a wonderful time.”
Amelia graces her with a smile that makes my chest cramp. She’s genuinely happy for her, but it hasn’t escaped my notice that she didn’t include herself in our plans. The fist in my heart squeezes tighter, and it’s difficult to breathe. Fuck, I don’t need this right now.
“I’ll finish her hair,” Amelia offers, stepping into Lily’s bedroom. “You don’t want to keep your date waiting.”
“It’s not a date,” I snap, annoyed she’s giving me such a hard time about this.
When she looks at me it’s with none of the warmth that she gives Lily or—up until now—has given me. “You should probably tell her that.” Her reply is brittle as I brush past her and head downstairs.
What’s that supposed to mean? What the hell did Mel say to her?
Chapter Eight
Amelia
Per Mel’s request, I made sure she and Brody weren’t disturbed. After brushing Lily’s hair, I read a few stories before she fell asleep. I wish rest would come that easily for me. My head is spinning with thoughts of what Brody could be doing with his therapist, and “among other things” plays on my imagination in torturous ways.
A knock sounds on my door, so soft I might have imagined it. When it echoes a second time, a little louder, the knot in my gut twists tighter. Against my better judgment I tell him, “Come in,” not bothering to look up from my Kindle when the door opens. I’ve been staring at the same page so long, the screen’s gone black.
“Hey.”
His husky voice whispers over me like an unwanted caress. I don’t respond. Whether I have a right to be upset or not, I can’t help it. I’m angry. And more concerning than that, I’m hurt.
“Want to start another season of our show?”
Is he for real? From the corner of my eye I see him shift uncomfortably. He’s nervous. Or maybe he’s feeling guilty for doing something he shouldn’t have with his sexy physical therapist that makes house calls.
“No, thank you.” I keep my gazed fixed on the screen. I need some time and space to regroup. Tonight threw me into a tailspin, and I don’t know what to do with my feelings right now. I’m falling for my boss, and he’s… I don’t know what he’s doing. Why is he still standing there?
“Come on, Mia.”
His voice is deep and soft—almost pleading. It’s the first time he’s ever used Lily’s nickname for me, and the tears that I’ve managed to hold at bay burn behind my lids.
“I don’t know what Mel told you, but there’s nothing going on between us. She’s just my physical therapist.”
I’m not sure what it means that he’s trying to explain this to me. It’s not the conversation a boss has with his employee. “It’s none of my business,” I coolly tell him. Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll eventually believe it.
“We both know that’s not true.”
Surprised by his call-out, I look at him and find Brody studying me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. What is he saying? Is this his way of telling me that I’m not the only one feeling whatever this is?
“It’s just therapy,” he explains. “But the entire time her hands were on me, all I could think was that I wish they were yours. And that’s fucked up, but it’s the truth.”
He exhales a hard sigh and drags his fingers through his hair as he starts to pace my bedroom. I keep quiet, partly because I’m speechless, but he’s gearing up to say more and I need to hear it.
“Christ, what am I doing? You’re Lily’s nanny. I’m your boss.”
I’m not sure which of us he’s trying to convince that this is a bad idea.
“I can’t do this with you.”
Himself. He’s definitely trying to convince himself. “Why not?” Why is he so sure this wouldn’t work? I have feelings for him. I adore his daughter. I think we could be great together.
He stops pacing and stares at me. And that’s when I see it—the pain, the hopelessness. He’s broken. And I realize…oh my God. He’s still in love with his wife.
Tears fall, and I wipe them off my cheeks. “It’s okay,” I quickly tell him. “You don’t have to say anything else. I understand.” I don’t want to hear him say it. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’ll gut me if he does. “Please, just leave,” I whisper past the moisture clogging my throat.
…
Brody
I bolt awake to a shrill scream and fly out of bed. Muscle memory has me pulling on a pair of sweats as I stumble for the door. Lily’s sobs echo down the hall as I rush to her room but abruptly stop in the doorway. Amelia is already there. I step into the shadows and watch as she pulls my daughter into her arms, her voice a gentle, reassuring whisper. Even I’m calmed by the sound of it. I can’t hear what she’s telling her, but whatever it is, Lily settles in and wraps her little arms around Amelia’s waist as she gently rocks her and begins singing a lullaby I’ve never heard before.
The soft cadence of her voice washes over me, warmth replacing adrenaline, soothing the muscles strung tight from waking to the sound of my daughter’s scream.
I’m in awe of this woman who’s blown into my life like a hurricane and taken over my home. She easily won Lily’s heart, and if I’m not careful she’s going to steal mine. I can’t let that happen. It’d be a disaster for both of us.
It’s here in the shadows as I watch them together that I realize Amelia genuinely loves my daughter. And Lily loves her. I’m not sure if I’m concerned or comforted by this. What’s going to happen in a few months when she’s gone? How much loss can Lily take before she finally breaks? Am I being irresponsible to let this continue?
I’m so caught up in my head, I don’t realize Amelia stopped singing. Suddenly she’s there, pulling the door closed behind her, and turns to run right into me. A startled squeak escapes her as I grab her shoulders to steady her, and a jolt of lust arrows through me. Just being close to her makes me hard.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She stiffens at my touch and takes a step back, pulling away. I hate that this is her response to me now. The easiness between us has become tension and awkwardness. “I didn’t realize you were out here.”
She’s still upset with me because of Mel, but what else can I do? I went to her room that night and tried to make things right, but I only ended up making them worse. This sense that she’s slipping through my fingers like fine grains of sand sparks a kind of desperation, despite my better judgement telling me to let things be. What would she do if I kissed her—right here, right now, shoved her up against the wall and took what I’ve been dreaming of since the day I saw her in those damn shorts?
She’s not as indifferent as she pretends, and I want to prove it to her so bad I can taste it—taste the full softness of those lips as I take what I want from her. And fuck, I want it all. She’s quickly becoming my obsession. But watching her with Lily, I realize I’ve got a bigger problem on my hands than my lust.
I plant a palm on each side of her head, bracing my weight against the wall, and lock eyes with her. “What are you doing, Amelia?”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and who knows, maybe I have. It sure as hell feels like it.
“What are you talking about? I’m going to bed.” Her tone is impatient but there’s a slight waver in her voice that betrays her uncertainty.
I’ve got her trapped—escape isn’t an option. “Do you have any idea how badly this can end?” She isn’t following me, and it pisses me off because she’s supposed to be the goddamn mental health professional here, not me.
“What are you talking about, Brody?”
“Lily.” I snap.
“I don’t underst—”
“S
he loves you, Amelia.”
Her smile is not the reaction I was expecting. It’s like a kick in the balls that almost brings me to my knees—and what I’d do to her when I got down there, I can’t even begin to think about.
“I love her, too. She’s an incredible little girl.”
“She wants you to be her mom.” I blurt out my frustration. Ever since Lily confided this, it’s been gnawing at me, filling my mind with a lot of what-ifs I shouldn’t be entertaining.
“She told you that?”
Her surprise tells me this is news to her. At least Lily hasn’t been talking about it to Amelia.
“Yes, she did.”
“I… Wow…” She’s speechless. “What did you say?”
“That it wasn’t going to happen.” Something falls in her expression, but it’s shuttered so quickly that I can’t decipher the emotion—disappointment? Damn, I suck at this. Amelia studies me a moment and then throws me a curve ball.
“You’re just going to have to fire me, then.”
“What?” That escalated quickly. Totally not where I was going with this conversation. At. All.
“Well, I can’t quit. You’ve got me in a contract. The only way out of it is for you to fire me.”
“Christ, Amelia, I’m not going to fire you.”
“Well, I’m not going to change the way I am with Lily.”
Her chin lifts in that defiant tilt that makes me want to devour those lips angled up at me so temptingly. We’re at an impasse.
“She’s happy, she’s healthy—emotionally and physically. Is everything perfect? No, but she’s a lot better now than she was when I got here. You want to know what I think?”
I’m not so sure that I do. She has kicked me into fight-or-flight mode. I’m alarmed at the threat of her leaving, and I’m mad that she’s muscling up to me. Maybe I just want to fuck her into submission.
“I don’t think you’re nearly as concerned about Lily’s feelings for me as you are your own. You’re so determined to hold on to the past that you can’t see what’s in front of you, and it scares you that Lily can. Don’t make this about her when it’s really about you.”
“Me?” Is she fucking serious?
“You.” She pokes me in the chest with a finger and shoves, trying to put some space between us, but I don’t budge. “You’re projecting your fears of getting hurt again onto Lily. Part of dealing with loss and working through grief is letting people in, Brody. You let the people who care about you help. You let them love you. You don’t push them away. That’s unhealthy and exactly what you’re suggesting I do to Lily.”
Is that what I’m doing? Fuck if I know, but one thing is true—I don’t need Amelia standing here psychoanalyzing me in her goddamn pink elephant shorts. Where the hell does she buy those things, anyway?
“I refuse to treat Lily any differently than I am now. You don’t withhold your love from someone because they might get attached to you. It’s such a dysfunctional way of thinking, Brody, that I don’t know whether to be pissed at you or to pity you. I have helped Lily process the grief of losing her mother, and she’s obviously still working through it, but she’s come so far. I understand that what you’ve been through isn’t the same. Losing a spouse is devastating in a different kind of way. I could help you—if you’d let me.”
“But I can’t if you’re constantly pushing me away because you’re afraid to let me in. You’ve got to trust someone sometime. I’m not trying to replace Stella. I’m not trying to be your wife. I just want to be your friend. I understand that you’re still in love with her. And that’s okay. It’s perfectly normal, but—”
The sharp bark of laughter tears from my throat before I can stop it. I shake my head, amazed by how someone so intelligent and in tune to other people’s emotions could be so far off base. “Jesus, you have no idea, do you?”
I’ve got to get out of here, or I’m going to spill the ugly truth about my sham of a marriage to this woman. She’s Lily’s nanny, not my therapist. I snarl a curse and use the wall to push away from Amelia before I do something I can’t take back, like pull her into my arms and kiss her as if my life depends on it. What’s scaring the hell out of me is that it’s quickly starting to feel that way.
Chapter Nine
Brody
Whoever said it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all was full of shit. I can attest to that. One year ago today, life as I knew it ended, and what remains is hollow—except for restless anger. I’m furious with Stella for destroying our family and at myself for being so fucking naive. Never again. It’s this vow that tethers me to sanity when my thoughts threaten to destroy me.
I throw back the covers and sit on the side of the bed, gently testing the range of motion in my shoulder. It’s getting better, but it’s still not great. If they don’t let me play today after all I’ve done to get my arm game-ready, I’m going to lose my shit. I need to be on that field. I’ve got a fuckload of aggression bottled up inside, and that fifty-yard line is the healthiest place for me to purge it.
Shoving to my feet, I head into the shower. Penner called late last night and told me he was picking me up this morning. He knows what today is, and I’m pretty certain he intends to get me shitfaced after the game tonight.
He’s a great friend and loyal to a fault. Penner’s one of those guys that never takes himself, or life, too seriously. On the field and off, his life is one big game. I used to feel sorry for him, but now, at times, I kind of envy him.
I step out of the shower and towel off before heading into my bedroom only to stop short when I see Amelia standing there. It’s just like in my fantasy, and fuck, my body can’t seem to recognize the difference between dream and reality. My dick is instantly hard as those images start flashing through my mind. I’ve seen this reel before, and it ends with me coming all over her tight, bare ass. It’s a rerun I could never get sick of.
“What are you doing in here?”
She startles and spins around, my folded laundry tumbles from her arms and hits the floor.
“I didn’t realize you were still here.”
She bends and quickly collects the clothing that’s scattered all over the floor. Shit, it looks like a laundry bomb detonated on my carpet. I cross the room and kneel to help her. When the flap of my towel falls open to expose my thigh, her breath audibly catches, and I glance down to make sure I’m not exposing anything else.
“I got this.” I grab one of my T-shirts and see her panties on my floor. Fuck me, they look good there.
“That’s okay.”
Amelia scrambles to collect her clothes along with mine. It’s oddly arousing that she’s washing our laundry together. She abruptly stands, then gives me her back as she piles my clean, now haphazardly folded laundry on the dresser. When I stand, a flash of red lace near the edge of the bed catches my eye. I grab her panties, and for the briefest moment, consider keeping them. I test the silky satin and textured lace between my fingers, imagining what it’d feel like sliding up and down the length of my cock.
She turns to leave. That’s it? After days of the silent treatment, she has nothing more to say to me?
“Amelia?”
She stops. Turns. And I don’t even try to hide the grin on my face as I hold up her fire-engine-red panties, letting them dangle off my finger. “I think you forgot something.”
Her face flushes. I bite my bottom lip to hold back laughter as she marches across the room and wordlessly snatches her panties from my finger. She doesn’t make it out the door before I cave to a throaty chuckle.
But she’s the one who gets the last laugh when she turns on me and says with saccharin sweetness, “I hope you enjoyed that, because it’s the closest you’re ever going to get to them.”
I meet her stare, hold it, and her triumphant smile slips before she skitters away. Today is not the day to test me.
“Challenge accepted.”
…
Amelia
&nb
sp; “Challenge accepted.”
Brody’s deep, rich voice carries into the hall, and I stumble, almost dropping my clothes for the second time. I don’t think he meant for me to hear that, and part of me wishes I hadn’t. What does that mean? Challenge accepted? He’s still my boss, and I’m still Lily’s nanny. And he’s still in love with his wife.
Bottom line, I have feelings for a man who is emotionally unavailable. Nothing has changed in the last several days, so why does it suddenly feel like something significant has shifted between us?
Admittedly, I’ve been avoiding Brody since our fight. The only thing I’ve managed to accomplish is miss him like crazy and want him even more. I can appreciate the difficult situation he’s in, and I don’t want to disrespect his wife’s memory, nor do I want him to think I’m trying to replace her, but I’m torn because it isn’t healthy for him to remain stuck in the past.
There are times he says or does something that leads me to believe I’m not the only one feeling this emotional connection, but then it’s almost as if he catches himself and shuts back down again.
Maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong. Heading into my bedroom, I start putting my clothes away. When I pull open my underwear drawer, I hesitate, holding my red thong. Seeing the delicate silk in Brody’s strong, large hands was…arousing. Add the visual of him standing there wearing nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and that shit-eating grin on his too-handsome face—it’s not fair how much this man turns me on.
Brody’s parting remark echoes through my mind. Is this the change I’ve been waiting for? If he’s willing to open up to me, even the slightest bit, don’t I owe it to myself to see where it goes? If I hesitate for fear of being hurt, then how am I any different from him? How can I expect Brody to take a chance on me when I’m not willing to take one on him?
Decided, I shove my panties in the drawer and close it with a little more gusto than necessary. I’m not stupid, Brody isn’t going to fall head-over-heels for me, get down on one knee, and profess his undying love. This isn’t a fairy-tale romance. Life just doesn’t work that way. But he is a man, and men have one glaring weakness.
The Nanny Rules Page 5
