Chapter Three

Gray

I stay on the porch, my phone open on the surveillance app so that I can watch and hear Callie with my daughter. Seeing Emery light up with Callie stirred something in me. I can’t lie—not to myself—I was checking Callie out big time during the interview. Sweat was sliding down her neck and chest toward her curvy mounds. My body was acting in all kinds of inappropriate ways.

When she mentioned reading romance novels, a flush crept over her cheeks and neck, making me wonder if her luscious body flushes like that all over. But when Emery joined us, something else replaced the lust. Emery took to Callie so quickly. And now, in the library, she’s giggling as Callie makes a walrus face at her. Emery will often try to avoid being ‘childish,’ but she seems much more carefree with Callie.

I grind my teeth, leaning forward, staring at the phone, at the two of them together. I’ve got a serious choice to make. If I hire Callie—and she seems like the clear choice—I’ll have to forget I ever felt like this. I’m going to have to pretend that my shaft isn’t stirring, threatening to get hard, trying to ignite my mind as I think about her walking ahead of me when she first arrived. It was the way the fabric settled on her round ass, her curves tempting me, her generous legs begging me to grab them, pull her dress up, and reveal her creaminess.

Fuck . I stand, roll my arms, twitch my neck from side to side.

“Wow, Callie, yeah,” Emery says through the phone. “Ha ha, yeah !”

“Imagination is a beautiful thing,” Callie says. “It’s like this library, Emery. Magic. You close your eyes, and you can think of anything you want. Your imagination is your superpower. Never forget that.”

“I won’t, Callie. I promise.”

I close my eyes and try to take Callie’s advice. I imagine coming home from work and seeing Callie in the front room after putting Emery down for a nap. Instead of looking at her mouthwatering legs, gazing longingly into her chocolaty brown eyes, or flooding my mind with thoughts of the moaning sounds she’d make if I tore down her shirt and took her nipple into my mouth—instead of all that, I must only see her as the nanny and be thoroughly professional.

“May I be excused?” Emery says, jolting me from my thoughts. “I’d like to use the bathroom.”

“What wonderful manners,” Callie replies. “Of course you can.”

“Will you wait here?” Emery says eagerly.

“Absolutely.”

I know what’s going to happen before it does. Emery comes, running around the corner, her hands balled into tight fists of pure excitement at her side. She can barely contain her energy. “Daddy, Callie is the best!” she exclaims. “Can she be my nanny? Please, Daddy? She’s really funny and smart, and she liked my walrus story, and she even told me how I could make the story even better. Daddy? Please?”

Part of me knows what the responsible move would be here. I should take a knee and look my little angel in the eye. Tell her that, while she likes Callie, there will be other nannies who will appreciate everything that makes her special. If I don’t do this, I’m playing this fire. It will mean letting Callie into our home. It will mean trying every single day to fight this unexpected temptation.

“Are you sure?” I ask my seven-year-old daughter, as if she can save me.

She looks at me like I’m stupid. “I’m super sure!”

There’s no reason to deny her. Callie is qualified and well-trained and obviously makes my daughter happy. Against my better judgment, I say, “Yes, okay, sweetness. But it will be a trial run at first.”

“What does that mean, Daddy?”

“We’ll have to see how she does for a couple of weeks, make sure she’s the right fit.”

“The right fit?” Emery cocks her head at me.

“Like a glove.”

“She is the right glove,” Emery says emphatically, nodding rapidly.

I smile. “Yeah, well… It’s basic procedure.”

“What’s that word?”

“It means it’s the way things are done.”

“Can I tell her?” Emery glows with excitement.

What am I setting into motion here? If I'm attracted to a woman for the first time in years, the reasonable thing would be to ask Callie on a date while telling her she can’t be Emery’s nanny. But I’ve been burned once before. Abandoned. Maybe this is for the best, then. It means I can’t get attached. And pretty soon, this feeling, this crush, this whatever the fuck, it’ll fade. I just have to ignore it.

“Daddy?”

“Yes,” I say. “Go tell her. I’ll cancel the rest of the interviews.”

“Yippee!”

***

“You were aware this is a live-in position?” I say, leading Callie down the jungle-like backyard, past the fountain, to the guesthouse. “Room and board are provided.”

“Yes, I was aware,” she murmurs, brushing her dress down. I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it. Is it a nervous tic? Each time she does it, she’s drawing attention to the shapeliness of her body.

I open the door to the guesthouse, aware that we’re going to be alone together. Really alone, with an entire yard separating us from Emery. But while I’m comfortable leaving Emery for a short while—she’s an intelligent, responsible girl, and my property has an advanced alarm system—it’s not as if I’m going to leave her there long enough to… To what? What am I even thinking? What insane thoughts am I going to let into my head, exactly?

“Wow, this is lovely,” Callie says, turning in a small circle inside the small living room of the guesthouse.

It has more of a log-cabin feel than the rest of the house. I toyed with the idea of renting it out before Emery came along. Then, I couldn’t stand the idea of a stranger living so close to my daughter. Callie, at least, is vetted. And I can tell she’d die before she ever hurt a child. It’s a feeling. It’s deep; it just feels true.

“When can you start?” I ask.

“Straightaway. Today. I’ll need to return to the city and grab my things.”

“Do you have anybody who can drive you?” I ask. “It’s not going to be convenient to bring everything on public transport.”

She bites her lip, looking pensive. A few strands of her hair have come close, falling across her forehead. I get the strong and, frankly, insane urge to reach over and brush them back into place. “I’ll figure it out.”

I believe her. It’s the way she says it. It's not like she’s psyched at the prospect, exactly, but as if she’s encountered similar problems before and has always found a way to overcome them.

“I can drive you if you like,” I offer without thinking. “Emery loves a road trip. And it’ll give you more time to get to know each other.”

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“You’re part of the family now.”

I regret saying it straightaway. Panic flashes across her expression. She looks sidelong at me as if wondering if I’m some kind of creep. I don’t want her to think of me like that. Ever.

“If you’re sure, Mr. Aldridge.”

The previous times she called me Mr. , I could tell it was because her attention had lapsed. She forgot I asked her to call me Gray. But now, it’s a purposeful choice. She wants to make it clear this is a professional relationship. It’s not like I can blame her. I’m twenty years older. I’m her boss. We’ve just met, and she is Emery’s new nanny.

And I’m holding baggage from the crap with Sloane. That’s one of the reasons that when I get a project, I throw myself into it. It’s easier to be a workaholic than to think about the past and consider all the broken things Sloane left behind.

“I’ll go tell Emery,” I say. “We can hit the road right away.”

“Okay, great.”

Emery is classically excited about the road trip, just like she’s excited about everything. Her big smile makes me forget about the awkwardness in the guesthouse. As we all climb into the truck, Emery grins at me in the rear-view mirror. Callie is sitting next to me, her hands in her lap, tugging at the hem of her dress.

I shouldn’t be noticing things like that or thinking about her thick, pale thighs. I squeeze the steering wheel tight, not imagining my hand sliding beneath the hem of her dress, not thinking about listening to her moan, feeling her breath on my neck as she starts kissing, begging, and telling me what she wants.

Fuck .

“Yay, road trip,” Emery says.

“You like driving, Emery?” Callie asks.

“I do with you, C-A-L-L-I-E!”

Warmth replaces the desire. Or maybe replace is too strong of a description. It’s more like it settles over it, masking the feeling. But it’s hardly any better. When I see the way Emery looks at Callie, my chest tightens. Emery was a baby when Sloane ran out on us, but that doesn’t mean she’s not yearning for a mother figure. Callie could be that mother figure. Callie could fill that role. Suddenly, I feel guilty for bringing her into Emery’s life. But it’s not as if Emery can never have a nanny.

Again, I make a promise to myself. I’ll keep it professional. I’ll put Emery before my desires. In fact, as we pass the You Are Leaving Maplebrook—see you soon! sign, I decide I’ll pretend that these thoughts and feelings never existed.

Just like that. I imagine snapping my fingers. Callie is a young woman who’s bonded with my daughter, an employee, nothing more.