Thankfully, Jessa breaks her gaze away from mine. She and Callie disappear into the bathroom. I go off in search of the oatmeal, fumbling around and clumsily knocking shit over until I find an unopened container in the back of the pantry. When I get to the bathroom, I find the tub water running and Jessa carefully peeling off Callie’s pajamas.
“Now what?” I ask.
Jessa peers up at me from where she’s perched on the floor. Those big, pretty eyes. Dammit, they’re starting to grow on me. “Grab a large handful of oatmeal and toss it under the running water. Can you double check the temperature, too? Make sure it’s not too hot?”
I continue to take orders from the nanny, and then we get Callie into the tub. The little girl whines and rubs at her spots, but Jessa soothes her and continues pouring milky-looking water over her itchy skin. “Try not to scratch, sweetie. The bath will make it better.”
Taking a much-needed breather myself, I rest back on my heels as my child soaks in the tub. Hell, this was definitely not what I was expecting when I woke up this morning after spending half the night awake from the unrelenting pain in my shoulder. But I’m damn grateful that I have this woman here to help me navigate it all.
“How do you know so much about this?” I ask Jessa a little later, when I’m holding Callie in my arms as the nanny applies calamine lotion with a cotton ball all over her little arms and legs.
She shrugs. “I had it when I was ten. Then my big sister got it, and I had to help take care of her whiny butt.” She cocks her head and her eyes go extra-wide with panic. “Wait—are you telling me you’ve never had it before? Chicken pox is highly contagious. And they say it’s worse when you get it as an adult. You probably shouldn’t be around Callie right now. I can handle this on my own. I don’t want to put you at risk. And we—”
I put out a hand to calm her anxious rambling. “First off, this is my daughter and she needs me right now. I don’t care if it’s contagious. Bring it on.” I lift my arm and flex as I beam at Callie. I’m awarded with a weak giggle that fills up my whole heart. Jessa opens her mouth to resume her arguing but I cut her off. “Secondly, I’ve had chicken pox. I was just too young to remember what it was like.”
“Oh, good.” She breathes out in relief and I feel a tickle inside my chest. The woman really does care. I mean, she truly, genuinely cares. About my daughter. And maybe even me.
Our eye contact intensifies, as does my magnetic pull toward her. It really, really sucks that we can’t explore this attraction.
“She’s tired,” I note, moving my attention back to Callie. Jessa is done with the calamine so I settle my baby girl into her bed.
“Want me to read you a story, Cal?” Jessa brushes hair back from the kid’s face. The little girl nods wearily.
I kiss my child goodnight and back out of the room. I stand in the doorway and watch the nanny fussing over my daughter as they cozy up and get ready to read. Jessa makes it all look so easy, so natural.
I hate the fact that she’s looking for another job. I can’t imagine her walking away from Callie and me. It scares me how much I need her. I don’t know how I’d do all this without her.
28
Eli
I head downstairs, exhausted from doing absolutely nothing all day. I try to make myself comfortable on the pull-out couch, but my shoulder fucking hurts. I must have pulled my muscle really good the other day.
I pick up the squishy tube of ointment sitting on the coffee table. Peeling my shirt off, I cover myself in this nasty mentholated gel thing I bought at the pharmacy earlier. It’s Menthol City up in here.
About a minute later, I hear Jessa whisper my name from the top of the stairs. “Eli?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah?”
“You mind if I start a load of laundry?”
“No, go ahead,” I call back.
She creeps down the stairs carrying her laundry basket, her glowing energy instantly lighting up the dark. When she sees me sitting on the couch, her footsteps stutter. I feel embarrassment flood my fucking cheeks.
Yes, I’m blushing. Because I know I probably look like a damn goon right now. But Jessa’s face doesn’t show it. In fact, her eyes greedily roam my naked torso.
Our gazes meet. She clears her throat and hurriedly turns her back, giving me privacy as she tends to the laundry in the bathroom.
I don’t miss the fact that some of my clothes are in there, too. She’s been tending to us both, despite only being paid to care for my daughter.
I just wish I knew why. It’s not like I’ve been very nice to her. In fact, I’ve been a plain out asshole at times. Still, she continues to be her sweet, cake-smelling self.
In a matter of minutes, the machine gets going. I look up and catch Jessa stealing a peek at me. “Want me to get your back?” she asks when our eyes meet.
“No. I’m good,” I lie, reaching around to squirt this shit over my shoulder blade.
“You’re making a mess.” Jessa giggles. She approaches, snatching the tube from my hand. “Turn around.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good.” Letting this woman touch me here in the dark at this time of night is a dangerous proposition.
She glares. “Turn. Around.”
At her dark tone, my dick hops.
Christ, she’s bossy.
My first impression of the nanny was that she was some dewy-eyed do-gooder but her fiery side is a pleasant discovery. It turns me on.
“Fine.” Reluctantly, I turn, giving her my back.
She kneels on the couch behind me and I’m so very aware of her body this close to mine.
“Ugh! This stuff smells horrible.” She titters.
“Tell me about it,” I laugh along. “And I’m the one who has to stew in it all night.”
“Sit still,” she says softly.
I exhale when her little hand rubs over my body. The way she’s massaging this stuff into my skin, across every inch of my back…it feels fucking amazing. I let out a groan, and give in, letting her hands have their way with me.
She doesn’t stop at just my back. I feel her fingers stroke down my bicep, too, and down my spine. She concentrates on every inch of me, taking her time, slathering my aching body in lotion, not stopping until the ointment is absorbed into my epidermis. I emit a low groan.
“You good?” she asks.
“Amazing,” I confess, groaning again. “Keep going. Please, don’t stop on my account.”
She laughs and continues rubbing me.
She should be gloating about how I got myself into this situation in the first place, trying to be all macho at her dad’s shop the other day. But instead, she’s kind and gentle. She’s a fucking saint. With tiny, magical hands.
By the time she deems her work complete, I feel like I’m having an out of body experience. I’m tingling all over and not just from the icy heat of the gel. I really never expected that getting rubbed down with muscle ointment was supposed to be sexy. I feel like I understand the whole nurse fantasy now, because fuck, that got me hard. I feel like a perv.
Jessa closes the tube and disappears into my bathroom to wash her hands. I can’t help but be disappointed at the loss.
“Is there anything else you need before I check on Callie and get to bed?” She stands in front of me, blinking those doe eyes.
Oh, I’m sure I can think of a thing or two. I have a different need that’s begging to be taken care of. “No,” I say instead.
She turns and starts up the stairs.
“Jessa?” I call out. Her head swivels in my direction. “Thank you. Y’know, for being so good to Callie and me. You go above and beyond your job here.” My own words wrap around my throat.
“I take it back…” she whispers softly.
“Take what back?” Confused, I examine her face.
“I said I was just doing my job,” she says in a whisper. “I take it back. This is more than just a job for me, Eli.”
My eyes hold hers, willing her to say mor
e. Willing her to tell me what she means by that.
But she doesn’t.
“Good night,” she hums softly, and then she’s gone.
29
Eli
Watching Jessa run around the house all day practically wears me out. Callie and I lounge on the couch reading books and watching movies while Jessa cooks every meal, bringing our trays into the living room. The woman refills our water bottles every two hours on the dot, but not before making us finish every last drop. I want to be annoyed but I can’t. It feels great, being taken care of like this.
After the three of us have an early dinner together in the living room, I force myself up. My legs are killing me from being idle all day. I drop down to the old piano I have pushed up in the corner and I start playing. Gramps taught me to play when I was Callie’s age, so when she approaches a few minutes later, wrapped up in her princess blanket, asking to learn, I’m glad to show her.
For the rest of the evening, I teach Callie the basics. Hand placement. The musical alphabet. I quickly discover that she has a natural talent for replicating the notes I make, and before long, she can play nearly all of Twinkle, Twinkle on her own.
She shoos my hands away, urging me to stop helping. “I got this,” she keeps saying, and it makes my chest tighten.
Damn—she’s getting so big, so fast. It kills me to think of how many important moments I’ve missed but I’m determined to focus on the future. Nothing will ever separate us again.
Callie looks up and catches me staring at her. She wears a confused expression on her perfect little face. “Why are you looking at me, Daddy?”
I smooth a hand down her blonde curls. “Because I love you so much, Cal. Sometimes it feels like my heart is gonna burst.”
I notice Jessa standing in the other room, watching. She thinks she’s being discreet, but I know she’s been keeping a close eye on us this whole time.
My daughter’s gaze drops to the keyboard in front of her. “But you were gone away for so long, Daddy…” Her voice is barely a whisper. “I thought you forgot about me.”
When she says that, it feels like getting my heart twisted by a giant pair of rusty pliers. I lift her tiny face so she’s watching me. “Never,” I assure her. “I never forgot about you. Not for one second. I spent every single day trying to figure out how to get back to you.”
“So why didn’t you come back for so long?” She’s struggling with her words, eyes shiny with tears.
God, how do I explain this to her?
Jessa gives me a discreet nod, encouraging me to carry forward. Even though it’s hard.
“Daddy got in trouble for doing some bad things,” I tell my daughter, praying that I’m not handling this wrong. I just don’t want to lie to her. “I had to go in time-out for a little while. But it’s over now. And I won’t leave you again, Callie.”
“Is Mommy in time-out, too?” she asks innocently, and now, I’m face-to-face with my biggest fear. Trying to explain to Callie what happened with her mother.
The authors of all those top-selling parenting books would probably kick my ass for saying this, but I have to go with the truth. If I ever want my daughter to trust me, I have to be honest with her. “I don’t know where your mommy is, Cal. I’m so sorry. But I do know this. You have me and I love you and you can rely on me to be here for you, always.”
Callie’s lower lip starts to tremble. “Deal?”
I nod, take her little hand in mine and shake it. “Deal,” I promise.
She collapses against my chest. She clenches my shirt in her little fists and her tears soak the fabric. “Mommy sucks!”
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” I scoop her up into my arms and hold her to my chest. “I’m still trying to figure out this single dad thing and I’m not always very good at it and I’m not even sure you understand what all that means but I just want you to know this—I love you so very much and I’d do anything for you and I’ll never stop trying to be the best dad I can be.”
Callie’s little arms come around my neck and she whispers. “I love you, Daddy.”
And just like that, all the bullshit I’ve been through was fucking worth it.
I lift my gaze, trying like hell not to cry. My eyes meet Jessa’s where she’s leaning against the doorway, fighting off her own tears. I don’t know what’s going through the nanny’s pretty little head, but I do know this; my daughter is starting to open up to me and Jessa has played a huge role in that.
The sun has set and Callie is yawning now. “I think it’s time for bed, kiddo.” I gently stroke her back.
“I’ve got her oatmeal bath ready,” Jessa says softly to me as she steps into the room. “Unless you’d rather handle it?”
I scrub a hand down my face. “You go ahead. I’m going to take a shower.”
Callie gives me another tight hug before she and Jessa disappear.
Once downstairs, I give myself a few minutes in the shower. Then, I stretch out on the couch, staring up into the dark, and take some time to process everything that just transpired.
In the middle of the night, when I hear the floorboards squeaking overhead, it's a war in my brain. My rational mind knows I should keep my ass on the couch, pull a pillow over my face, try to fall asleep. But the dumbass within tries to convince me that I can go up there, sit with Jessa in the dark kitchen, have an adult conversation.
Unfortunately, my inner dumbass wins out this time. I fling off my quilt and my feet hit the floor.
I take the stairs, still trying to reason that my intentions are innocent, that I just need a friend, that two adults can enjoy each other's company without it being inappropriate.
The second I step into the shadowy kitchen, the smarter part of my brain calls bullshit on this reasoning.
Jessa's head is inside the pantry and her perfect, little ass is poking out in some pink sleep shorts. The satiny fabric clings loosely to her frame. Her legs are pale, delicate, toned. I get a visual of myself spreading them apart as I drop to my knees and eat her from behind, right there with her head inside the goddamned pantry.
Being up here is a bad idea.
I’m about to turn on my heel and hightail it back to the basement but it’s too late—right then, she spins around with an armful of cookies and candies and cakes clenched to her chest and she spots me standing in the doorway.
30
Jessa
Jesus, Eli. You're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days." I clutch my midnight feast to my chest.
My boss glances mockingly at the load in my arms. “I’d say you're well on your way to a heart attack already.” He snatches the chocolate chip cookies from me and strides over to the kitchen island. He takes a seat.
I pause where I’m standing and stare at the man, confused. I legit don’t understand what’s going on here. “Are you...okay?"
"Perfectly." He opens the package of cookies and bites into one without a care in the world. He groans and his eyes close. I imagine the burst of chocolate and sugar and childhood nostalgia exploding across his tongue. "Damn—I forgot how good these are," he confesses in a hushed voice.
A slow smile moves into place on my lips. Okay, so, I guess we’re doing this, huh?
I approach the counter, attempting to adopt a casual stroll, like my heart isn’t trying to slam right through my chest. “Well, duh, they're chocolate chip.”
Eli watches as I set out the rest of my haul on the island, buffet-style. Sour worms, chocolate covered peanuts, caramel popcorn, cream-filled cakes, toffee squares. "So you actually live like this?"
I settle on the stool next to him. "Tell me—what other way is there to live?"
He glances at me and huffs. “Y’know, you might be onto something because right now, I truly feel like I’ve been missing out all these years.” He’s already on his third cookie.
I observe him. “I think you might wanna slow down with the cookies, buddy. I’ve got a whole lot of other good stuff and I’m gonna let y
ou taste all of it tonight.”
He chokes on his cookie.
Oh shit, did I just say that? Out loud? To my boss? I really didn’t mean to say that.
I glance away, blushing. “I just mean—I—you know what I mean.” Quickly, I change the subject. "Here, try this." I slide him a frosted cake with a rainbow of sprinkles packaged in crinkly plastic. "This one's my favorite."
He picks it up and cringes when he tries to tear the plastic open. "This thing is loud as hell!" he glances down the hall toward Callie's bedroom. "I think I just woke up the whole neighborhood."
"Because you're doing it wrong,” I snicker.
My boss grins, all full of himself. “Well, I can assure you that I’ve never left a woman feeling like I’m doing it wrong.” The second the words leave his mouth, he looks like he wants to take them back. "Shit. Sorry. That was inappropriate."
But it’s too late. I’m snickering into my long sleeve. "Such a frigging boy," I chide. "Do you want me to show you how to open this thing properly or not?"
Relief slides over his face when he sees that I’m not offended by his crude joke. He makes an inviting motion, sweeping his hand through the air.
I take the cake from him and slowly, patiently rip the wrapper open, one centimeter at a time. The packaging barely makes a sound.
“Well, look at you. An expert.” He’s mocking me again and I roll my eyes, trying to pretend not to like it.
I gesture to where the creamy filling is leaking from the pastry, about to fall onto the counter. “Just so you know, while you’re wasting time being a smartass, all the good stuff is just…dripping…out. Shut up and lick it, will ya?” I lift the cake to his mouth. I fight a grin and attempt to look innocent.
Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4) Page 15