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“Who are you,” she says, closing the door, “and what have you done with Matt Hansen?”
I blink stupidly at her, standing in the middle of the living room. The sun casts golden squares on the dark carpet.
“I mean, you never want to talk, so…” She shakes her head, and looks away, giving me a faint smile. “Never mind. I figured something happened when you said to lock the doors.”
Jesus, she’s so fucking pretty. It’s a subtle beauty, though it hit me from the first moment I saw her—the way her lashes curve, the clear blue of her eyes, the plump upper lip and the softness of her cheeks. The line of her neck, the roundness of her tits, the delicate shoulders, fuck…
Swallowing a groan, I sink down on the sofa and run my hands over my face. “The police think it’s probably a prank, but yeah. There was a message stuck to the front door today, and it wasn’t the first time.”
“A threatening message?”
“Not exactly.” I glance at her as she wanders closer. “But it was stuck to the door with a goddamn kitchen knife.”
“Oh.” She sits across from me, and I need her closer with a sudden visceral urge I do my best to battle. “Wow. Any idea who it might be?”
“About that…” I glance up at a noise from the stairs and find Mary and Cole at the top, staring down at us. They stay a moment longer, then they disappear again. “Have you seen Ross around?”
“Ross?” Her mouth falls open. “You think he’d come here and put a knife into your door?”
“You tell me. I got the impression you’ve known each other for a while.”
She nods. “You could say that. We went to school together, like everyone in this town. He’s a bully.”
“He bullied you back then, too?” Anger sweeps through me like a wildfire, setting my heart off again until it’s booming in my chest. “I’m gonna wring his fucking neck.”
Her smile catches me by surprise. She turns her face away, but not before I see the pretty flush on her cheeks. “You’re crazy.”
Yeah, that’s for damn sure. Off my rocker. So fucking hard I can’t stand it anymore.
Hard for my eighteen-year-old nanny who probably goes out for ice cream holding hands with her pimply boyfriend and wears PJs with teddy bears on them when she crawls into bed.
Dammit, I’d tear off her PJs, punch her boyfriend out of the way, and as for the things I’d do to her in her bed…
Getting to my feet, I start toward the stairs, hoping she hasn’t noticed the fucking tent I’m pitching in my pants. “Gonna check up on the kids.”
I don’t wait for her to join me.
“Be good, okay?” Octavia kisses Mary on the cheek, Cole on the forehead, and he throws his arms around her neck. “Aww, sweetie. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I’m watching them from the bedroom door, rubbing a hand over my chest. The kids really like her.
But they can’t love her. Right? They barely know her. She’s not their mom.
She can’t replace her. Nobody can. My kids can’t love her like they did their mom.
And why am I thinking of this now? Nobody said anything about replacing anyone. She just works for me. It’s good the kids like her, that they feel comfortable. That they have no problem with her.
No, the one with the problem is me. I need to get my head out of my ass and my mind off my dick. Then everything will be okay.
Thing is, I’ve wanted her since the moment I laid eyes on her and fought it ever since. Haven’t been able to keep her out of my house, or my mind.
What am I supposed to do?
She comes out and I follow her down the stairs. She stops at the door, turns to look at me.
“Take care,” she says.
Take care. Just two words, and my throat closes. Dunno what the fuck’s the matter with me today. Too much tension, I guess.
