9. Kip

9

KIP

I blink, my jaw slack as I stare at the woman in my living room. Ayla. Here, in our house. It feels like a mirage, my mind playing tricks on me. But no, she’s real, standing there with her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and those piercing green eyes I remember from the gas station.

“Ayla?” My voice comes out strangled, disbelief coloring my tone.

Clay whips his head toward me, his brows knitting together. “Wait, you two know each other?”

I drag a hand through my hair, still trying to process her sudden appearance. Shadow, Ayla’s loyal canine companion, trots over to me, his tail wagging in a friendly greeting. The dog’s ease helps ground me in the moment.

“Yeah, we met when I was out riding,” I explain, my gaze never leaving Ayla’s face. A million questions swirl in my mind. What is she doing here?

Clay’s eyes narrow slightly as he glances between us, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. He shifts his weight, folding his arms over his broad chest. “Well, this is a surprise. I just hired Ayla as our new live-in nanny.”

His words hit me like a sucker punch. Live-in nanny? Here? With us? We should have talked about this, made the decision together. Clay can’t just spring this on us without a discussion.

Even if I am happy about it…after all, I get to see her again.

“Don’t you think we should have had a conversation about this first?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level. My fingers curl into my palms as I struggle to make sense of this unexpected development.

“Nope.” Clay shrugs. “I didn’t think you would have a problem with it.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about…” I drift off. It’s Teller…

Ayla’s eyes meet mine, a flicker of uncertainty dancing within their green depths. She takes a step back, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “If this is going to be a problem, I can leave. I don’t want to cause any issues between you two.”

“No, no,” Clay interjects quickly, his voice firm and reassuring. He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on Ayla’s shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere. We need you here, Ayla. Piper needs you.”

I draw in a deep breath. “Clay’s right.”

As if on cue, Shadow nudges my hand with his wet nose, demanding attention. I chuckle, the tension in the room dissipating slightly as I scratch behind his ears. “You’re a lot sweeter when you’re not locked in the truck, huh?”

“He did the sniff test on you too?” Clay asks.

“He has to make sure we’re safe.” I laugh. “I thought you were supposed to be leaving town, Ayla?” My eyes dance between the two of them, slightly narrowing, as I ponder if there’s something going on between the two of them. But as soon as the thought enters my mind, it’s gone.

There’s no way that Clay would be interested in the same girl as me? Oh, who the hell am I kidding, of course, he would be.

“I found Piper in her stroller by herself at the park,” Ayla admits, and my eyes widen before falling on Clay. “Clay came shortly after, and I figured he could really use a nanny.”

“Clay!” I exclaim.

“I dozed off,” he blows out a breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Hiring her was a good idea.”

“I hope so.” Clay scratches the back of his neck. “Because we’re paying her fifteen hundred a week.”

“We?” I repeat and shake my head. “You.”

But we both know that all three of us will pitch in.

“So you live here too?” Ayla asks, and I notice the smallest tint of pink in her cheeks. Had Clay not told her about us?

“Yep. There’s three of us.”

“Including Piper?”

I shake my head. “There’s four of us, knuckle head here, Piper, myself and Teller.”

“Living with three men?” She comments, blowing out a breath. “I don’t know. My sister would kill me.”

“Then it’s a good thing your sister isn’t here,” I state. “Where’s Ayla going to sleep, Clay?”

Clay shrugs, his expression nonchalant. “The guest room. It’s the only spare room we have.”

I blink, trying to process this information. “But I thought... wasn’t that going to be Piper’s nursery?”

A flicker of realization crosses Clay’s face, followed by a hint of sheepishness. “Right, about that... I was thinking we could convert the office instead. It’s not like we use it much anyway.”

Ayla’s eyes widen, her gaze darting between us. “Wait, you don’t have a nursery set up for Piper?”

I feel my cheeks heat up, a twinge of embarrassment settling in my gut. “She’s been sleeping in the playpen in the living room,” I admit, my voice quiet.

Ayla’s reaction is immediate. She shakes her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and determination. In a swift motion, she reaches for Clay’s hand, catching him off guard.

“I need my first month’s pay upfront,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Clay’s eyebrows shoot up, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “Why? You planning on running off with it?”

Ayla rolls her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No, I’m going to use it to decorate Piper’s nursery. She deserves a proper space of her own.”

Her words catch me by surprise, a wave of gratitude and admiration washing over me. “Ayla, you don’t have to do that,” I interject, my voice soft.

But Ayla is adamant, her green eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness. “Yes, I do. No offense, but I doubt the two of you are going to be able to figure out how to decorate a girl’s room.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re not useless.”

“Should I remind you how I became your nanny again? Baby…left by herself.”

Clay whistles and looks at the ceiling.

As I look at her, I see a flicker of something in her eyes—a hint of the pain and vulnerability she keeps so carefully hidden. In that moment, I realize that Ayla understands Piper’s situation on a level that goes beyond mere empathy. She knows what it’s like to feel unwanted, to be left behind.

And with that realization comes a newfound respect for the woman standing before me, her shoulders squared and her head held high. Ayla Parks is a force to be reckoned with, and I have a feeling that our lives will never be the same with her in it.

Clay’s brow furrows as he admits, “I don’t have that kind of cash on hand, but I can go to the bank.”

Ayla’s eyes light up, and she reaches for her keys. “I can drive us there.”

But Clay hesitates, his gaze flickering to Piper. “Is your truck safe for the baby? No offense, but it looks like it’s seen better days.”

Ayla’s jaw tightens, a spark of defensiveness in her eyes. “Hey, don’t judge a book by its cover. My truck may be old, but it’s reliable. It’s gotten me through some tough times.”

Clay raises his hands in a placating gesture, but I can see the hint of a smile on his lips. “Easy there, tiger. I’m a mechanic, remember? It’s my job to know the difference between a good vehicle and a bad one.”

Ayla narrows her eyes, a playful challenge in her voice. “Oh, so you think you know better than me about my own truck?”

As I watch their banter escalate, I can’t help but feel a sense of amusement. It’s clear that Ayla and Clay are cut from the same cloth—both strong-willed and fiercely independent.

The two of them are going to butt heads…but not nearly as much as she and Teller will.

But I also sense that if I don’t intervene, this playful back-and-forth could go on forever. Clearing my throat, I interject, “Why don’t we take my truck? It’s got plenty of room for all of us, and it’s definitely baby safe.”

Ayla and Clay exchange a glance, a silent communication passing between them. Finally, Ayla nods. “Fine, we’ll take your truck. But only if Shadow can come too.”

I feel a warmth spreading through my chest at the mention of her loyal companion. “Of course, Shadow can come. He’s always welcome.”

Before we leave, Ayla insists on changing Piper’s diaper. I watch, transfixed, as she scoops up the baby from Clay’s hands with a confident ease that belies her young age. How old is she anyways? Her hands move with a practiced grace, gently laying Piper down on the changing mat.

“You’re a natural,” I say, unable to hide the admiration in my voice.

Ayla glances up at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ve had a lot of practice. I used to babysit for my cousins back home.”

As she works, I find myself studying her face—the way her brow furrows in concentration, the tenderness in her eyes as she coos at Piper. There’s something about seeing her like this, so nurturing and maternal, that stirs a warmth in my chest.

Ayla finishes changing the diaper with a flourish, snapping Piper’s onesie back into place. “There we go, sweet girl. All clean and ready for an adventure.”

She lifts Piper into her arms, nestling her close. The baby gurgles happily, her tiny hands reaching up to grasp at Ayla’s hair.

I feel a pang of something I can’t quite name—a longing, perhaps, for a future I never knew I wanted.

Shaking off the thought, I grab the diaper bag and head for the door. “All right, let’s hit the road.”

We pile into my truck, Ayla settling Piper into the car seat with practiced ease. As I watch her in the rearview mirror, I can’t help but marvel at how quickly she’s taken to this role.

It’s as if she was always meant to be here, caring for Piper, bringing light into our lives.