Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
“What’s up, Bailey Button?” he asks, using his nickname for his daughter.
She giggles as she always does. “Mia did my nails. See?” She shoves her hand in his face, too close for him to get a good look.
He pulls her wrist farther away and studies her purple nails as if they are the most important thing in the world to him, and my heart melts.
“Gorgeous!” he exclaims, with more feeling than I’d have thought the man could muster over a manicure.
In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve seen firsthand that he is an amazing father and Bailey is a lucky girl. Having grown up in foster care, I know how special the father-daughter bond is—or rather, I know how much I missed in not having it. My father walked out on my mother and me when I was two, so I barely remember him. I lost my mom a few years later to cancer, so I know how fortunate the little girl is to have a dad like Austin.
“I messed one up so Mia has to fix it,” the little girl says, wriggling out of her father’s embrace.
“Come on, munchkin,” I call out to her. “Let’s fix you. Then I need to get dinner prepped.”
“I’m going to exercise first, so don’t rush,” Austin says.
I nod. “No worries. It’s a stir-fry, so I’ll get everything ready and I won’t start until you’re finished showering,” I say, aware of his routine.
“Thanks.”
I busy myself with Bailey’s nails and not with thinking about a sweaty Austin working out in his downstairs gym, the muscles flexing as he moves, or his hot body in the shower afterwards. I am the nanny, and that’s all I’ll ever be.
* * *
Austin
I had a long day. I wouldn’t call the situation I was in a hostage crisis, but it was damned close. Too close for a man with a child at home, that is for sure.
The woman I was guarding snuck out to meet with her ex while I was busy with her little girl. I usually receive the kid-friendly jobs because, according to my boss, Dan Wilson, I am good with children. As if having my own makes me an expert on other people’s kids. Being around other kids only makes me long for my daughter because at least I understand her… until the teenage years hit. I shudder at the thought.
After a long, hard workout, weights and cardio included, I step into a hot shower and let the steam relax my muscles. As I wash up and shampoo my hair, my stomach growls, reminding me it is time for dinner. Which, of course, reminds me of my daughter’s nanny, whose blonde hair is usually in a messy bun looking sexy when she isn’t intending it to be. At the thought of her, my body comes to life, and it takes all my willpower not to jerk off to the thought of her.
I am beyond lucky I found my Mia through a reputable service and she has amazing cooking skills. Add in that Bailey seems to adore her and I can’t mess up a good thing by coming on to the nanny.
Before Mia, my parents were Bailey’s caregivers, and although my mom and dad are young and spry, it wasn’t fair to expect them to give up their lives to take care of my child. No matter that they love their granddaughter, they’ve already raised their kids, my sister Sharon and me.
Head on straight, I dry myself off and pull on a pair of black track pants and a light blue tee shirt, then head downstairs to find my daughter.
As I approach the kitchen, Bailey’s chatter reaches my ears.
“Mia, would you come with Daddy to bring me to school?”
The sound of stir-fry sizzling in the wok acts as stereo to Mia’s reply. “Your daddy is excited to take you tomorrow. He even took off from work so he could be there. You don’t want to disappoint him, do you?”
“No, but…” Bailey hesitates. “Everyone’s going to have their mommies, and I won’t and I’ll be sad. So can you come, please? I know you’re not my mommy but you’re a girl. So pretty please, come take me?”
My daughter’s words are like a punch in the gut. I didn’t leave Kayla; she walked out on our daughter and me, not once but twice. True, I married her because she was pregnant, on purpose, she admitted, but I was determined to make the marriage work. Unfortunately, not only was she a shitty wife, she was a worse mother, and that was where I drew the line. Anything that hurts my daughter is unacceptable.
I shake my head, determined to stay in the present with the one person who matters. “Hey, guys, something smells good!” I join Bailey and Mia in the kitchen, where Mia is placing servings of delicious-looking stir-fried chicken and vegetables on our respective places.