The Stud Next Door

by Kendall Ryan

  “What does it do?” the woman asks, her eyebrows raised.

  I can tell by the way she’s inspecting it that she’s already a lot more comfortable with the size and shape of the thing. So I explain how the couple’s toy works, beginning with the functionality of the device and ending with its special features—multiple vibration settings, 100 percent silicone design, waterproof exterior, discreet case.

  But as I’m answering their questions, there’s an unfamiliar emptiness in my voice. The customers are none the wiser, but it feels like I’m reading from a script. Before I became a dad, I used to take pride in helping couples with their sex lives. Now I just feel like a fraud.

  My own sex life is nonexistent. My libido is next to gone, except in the inconvenient moments when it’s appeared like a tornado around Jessa.

  Not gonna lie . . . the girl inspires a whirlwind of conflicting emotions in me.

  Jessa is a total pro when it comes to babies—anyone could see that. It honestly shocks me that she hasn’t nannied before. She just seems to know things about babies, things that I haven’t figured out in my two months of fatherhood. She makes it look easy. Too easy. But she’s also very pretty, and that’s been more than a little distracting.

  My dad brain wants me to wife her, and my dick wants me to bed her. The romantic in me wonders if I could do both, but then the businessman in me shuts it all down with the simple but cogent reminder: She’s the nanny. You’re her employer. Don’t be a creep.

  It goes on like this for the rest of the day as I help customers find the right fit for their needs, all the while doing my best not to think about using the very same products with Jessa. Wondering how her sweet voice would sound begging for more . . .

  And just like that, I’m hard. Fucking seriously?

  I tell Hayes a bald-face lie in mid-debrief, saying I have to piss, just so I can splash some cold water on my face and take a breather. Keep it together, man. I either need to jerk off tonight or switch professions.

  That settles it. It’s time to call it a day.

  With that sobering thought, I exit the bathroom and call out to the guys, “I’m heading out.”

  Hayes glances at his watch, a slow smile spreading on his face. “You made it longer than I thought you would. Six whole hours.”

  I chuckle, grabbing my keys and wallet from my desk drawer. “You’ve got to ease into these things, I’ve found.”

  He gives me a short wave. “Glad you’re back, dude. Makes a huge difference.”

  “It’s good to be back.”

  Caleb pokes his head out of the stockroom, a cocky expression on his dumb face. “You know, we were fine without you, dickwad.”

  “Tell that to the books,” I shoot back, feinting a punch inches from his nose.

  He flinches and swears, knocking my fist away before returning to the stockroom with a grumble.

  “Give Marley our love,” Wolfie mumbles distractedly from his own workstation, his gaze glued to his computer.

  I call over my shoulder, “You got it,” and let the door swing closed behind me.

  My commute back up Lake Shore Drive to the northern suburbs takes me a little less than a half hour, but I’m grateful for the time to think.

  When Marley was born, it seemed like I would never have time to myself again. Being a single dad means life is busier than ever, while still feeling crushingly lonely. The thought of coming home to a woman—coming home to Jessa—sends a tingling warmth up my spine, all the way to my heart.

  Whoa, there. Fantasizing about the nanny is unavoidable, but catching feelings? There’s no way I’m going to let that happen.

  It has to be because she’s the first woman I’ve had in my home—well, other than my female friends, right? And because she’s good for Marley? Yeah, that’s got to be it. Definitely no catching feelings.

  Be realistic, dude.

  The lights are on in the kitchen when I pull into my driveway. My chest tightens at the sight of a woman’s silhouette standing at the sink. I try to shake off the residual sentiment by taking the steps two at a time.

  Before I turn the house key in the lock, I take a moment to steel myself. Be cool. With a sharp inhalation, I twist the knob.

  Just as I do so, the door swings open, Jessa greeting me on the other side. Her cheeks are a rosy pink, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail like the first time I met her. She’s just as beautiful.

  “I heard the car pull in. Thought I’d let you in,” she says softly.

  Marley is tucked against her chest in some sort of makeshift sling, fast asleep. The sight of her brings a smile to my lips.

  Jessa turns on her heel to wave me indoors. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks,” I murmur, instantly distracted by the way her ass looks in that pair of heather-gray yoga pants. Two plump and perky handfuls.

  Remember all that steely resolve? Yeah, it’s just a puddle of pathetic mush now.

  “How was she today?” I kick off my shoes, noticing an unfamiliar pair of red-orange sneakers tucked onto the mat next to my own black ones. Cute.

  “We had a bit of a mess around lunchtime, but otherwise she was an angel.”

  I follow Jessa into the kitchen, and the scent of garlic fills my nostrils like I’m stepping into an Italian bistro. My stomach growls as I catch sight of steaming pasta and freshly cut vegetables.

  “You made dinner?”

  “Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I figured it’s your first day back, so you’d probably be tired.”

  “That’s really thoughtful of you,” I say, a smile twitching at the corner of my mouth. “Smells great. What is it?”

  “Pasta primavera, maybe.” She chuckles, peeking over the lip of the small saucepan to monitor whatever buttery sauce she has going. “Mrs. Wilkes let me snag a few veggies from her garden. You’ll have to let me know how it turns out.”

  I lean against the door frame, crossing my arms. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

  The wooden spoon stills in the pot. After a second, Jessa looks at me over her shoulder and shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

  After transferring Marley from the sling into a portable bassinet since she’s still sound asleep, we sit down to eat. The pasta is cooked to perfection, fragrant with fresh garden flavors. Warm food in my stomach and dry wine on my lips, I’m more relaxed in this moment than I’ve been in . . . well, months.

  “This is really good,” Jessa murmurs into her wineglass, indulging in another sip. “Tastes expensive.”

  “It’s not. Just a grocery store brand.” I laugh, enjoying the flush that creeps over her cheeks. Making Jessa blush may be my new favorite pastime.

  “I wouldn’t know.” She smiles, shaking her head slightly. “I’m more of a beer gal.”

  All right. That’s just not fighting fair.

  “They have beer where you’re going?” I ask, popping another forkful of pasta into my mouth. Not the smoothest transition, but I’m curious. I mean, why Central America?

  “Don’t they have beer everywhere?” she says, one eyebrow raised in challenge. Seems it’s better to be direct with this woman.

  “I should hope so. What will you be doing down there, anyway?”

  “Well, the nonprofit helps folks in El Salvador prepare to emigrate to America. Assisting with documents, simulating naturalization interviews, and so on. I’m going to be working with the children, specifically.”

  My eyebrows raise of their own volition. “That’s cool.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles nonchalantly, my words rolling off her as easily as if I’d reminded her the sky is blue.

  “Seriously, Jessa. You’re really impressive. I can’t say I know anyone else who has mission work on their résumé.”

  “Well, it’s not on my résumé yet . . .”

  “But it will be. Is this just like a one-time thing, or is it something you want to pursue?”

  She smiles, poking at her pasta with her fork. “I’ve actually thought about becoming an
immigration lawyer. But that would mean I’d have to go back to school.”

  Blown away, I lean back in my chair. The level of ambition at this table makes me feel like a hack. A deep laugh rumbles from my belly.

  “What?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

  “Nothing. I just didn’t know I was employing a superhero. But I guess I should have known, considering you did save my ass within minutes of meeting me.”

  “Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes, but her adorable grin is impossible to miss.

  “In all seriousness . . .” I sigh, letting my gaze wander up to the ceiling. “I really respect that. What you’re up to is a lot more admirable than selling vibrators and massage oil for a living.”

  “Don’t say that,” she says, her voice firm. “A healthy, active sex life is important too.”

  Our eyes lock. Suddenly, I don’t know if we’re just having small talk or if Jessa feels the same connection I do. A flurry of fantasies ricochet around in my head, like someone lit off a firework in there.

  Just when I’m about to open my mouth and agree with her that sex is important, there’s a knock at the door.

  “Who’s that?” Jessa asks, concern creasing her brow.

  “I have no idea.”

  When I open the door, I’m surprised to find Maren and Scarlett on my front porch with wide, goofy smiles on their faces.

  “Surprise,” they both exclaim, lifting twin foil-wrapped casserole dishes into the air. Slung over their shoulders are large grocery bags filled to the brim with diapers and baby wipes.

  “Hey.” I chuckle, any moodiness melting away into appreciation. I’d forgotten Maren had promised to bring over supplies one of these days when she learned from Hayes that I’d been struggling. “Come on in.”

  The women pass me the casseroles unceremoniously, eager to see Marley, I’m sure. They follow me through the front hall, complimenting my new digs. But no surround sound system or new sectional could compare to the shock of finding a beautiful woman sitting in my dining room at a table that clearly screams dinner for two.

  “Hi,” Jessa says cheerfully. “I’m Jessa, the nanny.”

  “The nanny, huh?” Scarlett murmurs, turning to me with eyebrows waggling.

  I narrow my eyes at her. Don’t even start.

  “I’m Maren, and this is Scarlett. It’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard great things,” Maren says, walking directly to Jessa with a hand outstretched.

  “Already?” Jessa laughs.

  They clasp hands warmly, exchanging genuine smiles.

  “You made an excellent first impression,” Maren says. “Something about being a baby wizard?”

  Jessa shakes her head, smiling. “Oh, a whisperer.”

  “That was it!”

  They both laugh. Leave it to Maren to become fast friends with Jessa.

  “I’ll put these in the fridge,” I say, casseroles in hand as I make my way to the kitchen.

  Working some Tetris magic, I manage to find space in the fridge for both the casseroles and our dinner leftovers. I make a quick job of clearing the counters before securing a cork into the bottle of red Jessa liked so much and tucking it back in the wine rack.

  When I reemerge from the kitchen, I clock some movement in Marley’s bassinet. There she is, wide awake with big blue eyes blinking up at me.

  With a smile, I lift my baby girl into my arms, cuddling her against my chest. She reaches for my shirt instinctively with one set of chubby fingers, the others finding their home in her gummy little mouth. Is it possible to love anything more than I love this girl?

  The quiet, serene moment is interrupted by Scarlett, as it often is, who squeals at the sight of Marley in my arms. She rushes to my side, her face fixed in a look of complete and utter adoration.

  “Oh my God, she’s so fat. Has she always been this fat? Hi, baby.” Scarlett reaches out to caress my daughter’s chunky leg, and Marley gurgles with each ticklish touch.

  “Thanks, Scarlett,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. Now I have to worry about overfeeding my kid.

  “That’s totally normal,” Jessa says quickly, reading my mind. “Some babies have extra fat storage for developmental purposes.”

  “I thought you said you were, and I quote, ‘wildly unqualified for the job.’” Maren chuckles, one hand propped on her hip like a scolding schoolteacher. “Sounds like you know plenty.”

  Jessa shrugs, her smile humble and amused at the same time. “I owe it to Connor for giving me a chance.”

  “She acts like I wasn’t the one begging for help,” I say, arching one eyebrow. “Did she tell you about the bottle slash formula incident?”

  “Oh God.” Jessa giggles. “He didn’t know you should warm a bottle before feeding the baby.” She smiles, the faint freckles on her cheeks and nose growing more noticeable with the flush of her skin.

  If only I could brush my lips against that smile . . .

  “Uh-huh.” Scarlett’s fascinated gaze pings between us.

  Maren laughs politely, always the one to recover from awkward situations first.

  Fuck, I must look like some jackass, flirting with the nanny in front of my friends. But I’m not really flirting. Inside jokes aren’t flirting, right?

  “Well, we’d love to show you around the city—” Maren says, just as Scarlett jumps in.

  “If Connor is willing to give you a night off.” Scarlett cocks her head at me with a look that says, You expect me to believe you aren’t fucking the nanny?

  “I’d love that. I won’t usually be here this late,” Jessa says quickly, as if she’s coming to my defense. “He just invited me to stay for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh, did he?” Scarlett sings, inspecting her nails.

  Goddammit. Time to say good-night.

  “It’s getting late. I’d better get this one to sleep,” I say gruffly, wishing Marley looked at all tired. Instead, she’s wide-eyed and seems to be enjoying this just as much as Scarlett. “Thanks for bringing all the stuff by. I really appreciate it.”

  “Anytime. We’ll let ourselves out,” Maren says with a soft, apologetic smile.

  I exchange hugs with the two women and Jessa follows them to the door, exchanging phone numbers and promises to connect soon. When I hear the front door click and Scarlett’s car exit the driveway, Jessa returns. This time, she’s wearing her red-orange sneakers and has her purse slung over her shoulder. I almost wish she didn’t have to go.

  “I’d better get going too. I’m sure you’re exhausted after your first day back,” she says softly, her fingers tensing and untensing around her purse strap.

  My heart twinges with an unfamiliar pang. I don’t want Jessa to leave. My mind races for reasons why she should stay . . . but I come up completely blank.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  I follow Jessa out the front door and onto the porch where we stand for a moment, listening to the cicadas.

  “It’s a beautiful night,” she murmurs, playing with the end of her ponytail as the wind teases her flyaways.

  What I wouldn’t give to tuck those curly strands behind her ear right now. Anything for the chance just to touch her.

  Man, I’m really losing it.

  “Yeah, it is,” I finally reply.

  Unexpectedly, Jessa takes two steps closer to me, leaning in. She plants a soft kiss on Marley’s chubby cheek, a picture of peace and serenity—all the while my heart beats as loudly and wildly as the fireworks finale on the Fourth of July.

  “See you tomorrow, baby girl,” she whispers into my daughter’s ear. Before she steps back, she looks up at me through her eyelashes. Our bodies are so close, I can feel us breathing in unison.

  “See you tomorrow too.” She smiles with lips so kissable, I have to look away before I make a fool of myself.

  “See you,” I manage to say, my voice hoarse.

  With that, Jessa bounces down the stairs and cuts across the Wilkeses’ lawn and up the stairs to the door of her new apartm
ent—only a faint shadow in the streetlight when she turns back to wave good-bye.

  When she’s safely at home, I step inside my own door and close it slowly, pressing my forehead to the cool wooden frame. Marley squirms in my arms, her big eyes searching my face as if I alone hold the answers to life’s greatest mysteries.

  “I don’t know, Marley girl,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her soft head of hair. “Daddy has no idea what he’s doing.”

  4

  * * *

  JESSA

  “Cheers, ladies. Here’s to being young and beautiful in the Windy City.”

  My new friends—Penelope, Scarlett, and Maren—raise their wineglasses, each with a warm smile directed my way.

  “And to our new friend, Jessa,” Scarlett says, looking to me with a toss of her long auburn hair. “Welcome to the neighborhood, but more importantly, welcome to the whirlwind that is the men of Frisky Business.” Her face holds a challenging smirk, and I’m not quite sure what to make of it.

  Before we even clink glasses, Maren and Penelope are both balking. Maren’s polite smile is frozen on her face, and Penelope winces uncomfortably.

  Clearly, we’ve already ventured to the most exciting and controversial topic of the evening. And something tells me if I want to learn anything about Connor, Scarlett will be my go-to source.

  But just as quickly as the topic was broached, the moment passes, and Maren and Penelope are back to their sweet and blissful selves. We sip our sauvignon blanc and drool over menu items before settling on the beef empanadas and goat cheese for the table.

  I have to admit, when they first recommended a tapas place, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But between the cool brick walls, the warm atmosphere, and fragrant tapas food coming from the kitchen, I’m sold.

  “Okay, so remind me again how you all know each other?” I ask, placing my hands flat on the table and looking helplessly between my three new friends.