The Billionaire And The Nanny

by Paige North

  “Yeah,” he says, turning them to show me. Black, shiny, a bit of a heel and a pointy toe. “Just one of many we sell. Hand-stitched, and the top here is all one piece, not two like most. Leather imported from Italy.”

  “Great for working the fields,” I say dryly.

  “Well,” he says, as if he’s a bit embarrassed. “These run a couple thousand, so maybe not these ones specifically…”

  “And tell me, do you dry clean your jeans? I mean, they’re perfectly pressed and look fresh off the assembly line.” I glance at his jeans and try not to think about how well he fills them out, especially there in the crotch. I shift my stance uneasily.

  “All American made,” Cole says, not missing a beat and continuing on his sales pitch like I’m a potential investor.

  Who is this guy? What happened to the Cole I knew, who dreamed big but also loved so tenderly and was still trying to figure it all out? Where’d he go? I don’t know who this person is. And I don’t want to know.

  “Good for you, Cole. I’m sure everyone will be really impressed.”

  He eyes me again, but instead of looking me up and down, his eyes stay locked on mine. My breath becomes shallow as I wait—for what, I don’t know, but it’s so damn hard not to lose myself when he looks at me like this.

  “I can send you over some gear. I remember you have small feet. Size six?”

  I don’t know if I want to cry, laugh or slap him. “Gee, you’re so generous. As tough as it is, I think I’m gonna pass. Although it might do your company some good to have real people wear your gear—you know, people who actually know what it’s like to work the farm, living in the country, walk the fields. Probably pretty different than hitting the city pavement, am I right?”

  “I know what it’s like to work the fields, Jessa,” he says.

  “Yeah, clearly.” I wave my hand over the whole of his body. “What does Vogue call this? Farming haute couture?”

  “Come on,” he says. The cocky smile has slipped away. “I am from here. I did grow up on my dad’s farm.”

  I only feel a little guilty for giving him such a hard time. Then I remember what he did to me—to us—and my frustration comes flaring up once more.

  “Using that story to sell hand-stitched Italian leather boots?” I lob at him with my best sarcastic voice.

  He looks down at the ground for a moment, and the silence weighs the space between us. Just the humming of the highway off in the distance. Part of me wants to slip into his arms and feel his warmth seep into me.

  But it’s not hard to remind myself why I can never do that. He left. He didn’t even try to contact me—that’s what really kills me. Bailed without a word. And now here he stands outside my place of work as if not a day has passed.

  No explanation, no shame.

  Finally he looks back up at me, locking me in with his eyes. “Got me a penthouse in the city and quarterly trips to Italy,” he says. “All in all, not so bad.”

  “Mr. Frost,” calls one of the many minions standing by, waiting for Cole to finish with me. The woman wears black headphones with a mic and confers with the iPad she carries like a baby. “We’ve got good light over at the farm if you want to head over there now. We can get you set up on the tractor, show you sowing some seeds or something.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I say, and not so quietly.

  “Sure, Melissa,” Cole says, giving me a hard look before glancing away. “We’re done here.”

  The woman walks off and I’m steaming mad. Cole turns his back to me as the crew loads up the several black SUVs parked nearby.

  And then he begins walking away, like he did so many years ago. I almost don’t hear him when he says, “Good seeing you, Jessa.”

  I have to admit, as strong and tough as I want to act, when Cole leaves I feel totally deflated.

  Later on, at home, the only thing that comforts me is Lucy. She reminds me that she’s all I need to feel whole.

  I take such joy in watching Lucy play. I worry about her being an only child. I think of my own childhood growing up with my sister, Avery, and all the fun games we would invent together. Right now Lucy is draping my head with old ribbons—I think maybe I’m a princess? I may be a prisoner, I’m not sure.

  “Stay there, Momma,” she says. “I’ll get the tea.”

  Ah, so maybe we’re friends.

  Life was sad and uncertain when I was pregnant with her. I couldn’t wait to meet her, but the fact that her father wasn’t there was a real kick to the gut. I never imagined my life turning out like that. I’ve always thought I’d end up like my parents, happily married for decades with two or three kids who had each other’s backs.

  When Lucy was born, and I saw her face, nothing else mattered. Of course there were moments in the hospital room I wished Cole had been there, but seeing Lucy, I realized her happiness was my only priority.

  “Momma, drink your tea,” Lucy says. “It’s getting cold!”

  Lucy reminds me of him too frequently for comfort sometimes—the way her mouth gets when she pouts, the way her eyes twinkle when she sees something new. That’s Cole, and it crushes me every day. But I’m moving forward just like I’ve always done, and Lucy and I are the best team on earth.

  “Knock, knock!” I hear.

  “Come in!” I call.

  Avery walks into the living room. Lucy’s face lights up when she sees her aunt, all signs of proper tea party gone. Lucy holds her hands out for Avery, who immediately picks her up.

  “How’s my big girl?” Avery says.

  “Hi, Aunt Av,” Lucy says, patting Avery’ hair.

  “You ready to come to my house?” my sister says to her.

  “I want to go to pet the goats.”

  “That’s exactly what we’ll do tomorrow,” Avery says. “Nana and Pawpaw are coming over. Nana made chocolate sheet cake!”

  After seeing Cole, I put in an emergency call to my sister. I didn't tell her about him, but I said I could use a night off if she wanted to have Lucy over. Of course, Avery didn’t even hesitate.

  But when she finds out that Cole is back, she’s not going to be happy.

  “Lucy’s bag is by the front door,” I say, getting up from the chair to see them out. “Everything should be there.”

  “If not, I’ve got a bunch of backup stuff for her at my place.” Lucy holds Avery’s hand as they walk slowly to the front door. “See you tomorrow, sis.”

  “Tell Mom and Daddy I said hi,” I say. “Send pictures!”

  “We will, Momma,” Lucy says. She’s figured out how to open my iPhone, so I’ve had to put the locks on it. She’s really been getting into everything lately, so I have be vigilant about keeping things out of her tiny hands. But she still loves snapping pictures and videos, and loves making funny faces for the camera.

  Avery buckles Lucy into her car seat. I smother Lucy’s face in kisses until she laughs and squirms.

  “Be good for Aunt Avery, okay?”

  “Okay, Momma. I love you!”

  “I love you, too, big girl. Thanks, Avs,” I tell Avery as I shut the back door.

  I wave as I watch them drive down the road, a piece of my heart going with them. Nights alone are a luxury, but I always miss my girl.

  Back inside I grab a beer and plop down on the couch. I let the quiet wash over me. It only takes a moment for my thoughts to go back to him.

  It’s always him.

  Always has been, sometimes I’m afraid it always will be. Like maybe I just won’t ever be able to truly get over him.

  That man has rattled me, that’s for sure. Why is he back, anyway? Why was it so necessary to film that whatever documentary right in front of the building I work in? That can’t be a coincidence.

  Cole had once begged me to leave town with him. I was only eighteen, and he was a bit older. He hated living on the farm with his father, hated life here in Morningside Valley—he refused to see the beauty in it—and one night, late, he showed up in a frenzy.
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  “Let’s go, right now,” he’d said, his eyes wild, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

  “Go where? Do what?” I’d asked.

  “Anything! Whatever we want! Whatever you want. But please, let’s just go. I'm dying in this town. Don’t you understand that?”

  “Cole, I can’t,” I’d said. “I just…can’t.”

  His urgency took me aback. He paced like a caged animal.

  “I have to go,” he said. “I can’t take it anymore—this place, my father.” He took my face in his hands, and I remember his eyes softening when they looked into mine. “I’m not leaving you. Understand that. I just need some time to get my head on straight. Let me go and get settled and we’ll figure it out. I’ll call you.”

  “Of course,” I’d said, brushing his cheek. “Whatever you need.”

  He pulled my face to his and kissed me deeply, with urgency and passion. When he stopped, my head was spinning.

  And then he left. I thought he’d be gone for a couple of days but no. He was gone. I tried to contact him, and then again when I knew Lucy was coming. I got nothing back from him. Zero.

  That was three years ago.

  Cole likes to live his life on the surface, never committing, never showing his feelings, never getting in deep. I knew that going in but what can I say—the boy is fine. And he made me feel incredible—sexy and smart. Stupid me, I thought he felt the same way. I thought he was falling for me. Instead I was drowning alone in those bright blue eyes.

  But what really sank me was his lips. His tongue. And his hands. I scoot down on the couch as I think back to the things he did to my body, how crazy-good he made me feel.

  I slip my hand into my panties and picture the way his eyes burned into mine as his fingers slipped passed my wet walls, pumping into me before slipping out and circling my hard clit then dipping back into me again. And again. And again. I think of the way his lips sucked on my hard nipples as I held his head close to my chest, always wanting more, kissing the top of his sandy brown hair. Cole is the only man who has ever made me moan and scream so much that I thought the neighbors would surely hear.

  Cole never was the nice sweet guy like the ones I knew in high school. Those guys would wait for the girl to kiss them, would let the girl show them what they wanted. Not Cole. He was a man who took the reins, and he steered me into pure ecstasy.

  I’d never had an orgasm in my life until Cole fucked me with his mouth. I picture his head between my legs, circling my wet clit with my finger but imagining it’s his tongue. My breathing is shallow and all I can see is his head between my legs, and wishing he were here and damning him for what he did when he was here.

  Enough damage to last a lifetime, but also gave me enough ecstasy to last ten lifetimes.

  In my mind I push his head deeper into me and he sucks me harder, teasing and torturing my clit until I think I might die. I picture myself coming all over his face, and when I explode into orgasm, I pretend I’m screaming out his name. In reality, it’s only a whimper.

  He may be back in town, but he’s not here with me. In a way, nothing has changed.

  Cole

  Obviously I didn’t need to shoot right in front of the Morningside Valley Vet Clinic. There are plenty of great, small town backdrops here, but the vet clinic has that great pitched roof with the hills in the background. Also, Jessa.

  Obviously Jessa. Yes, one hundred percent I went there to “bump into” her. I’ve been a man starving these last three years not having her in my life, not seeing her beautiful face or hearing her sweet voice. Instead of killing me, though, it’s made me work so much harder. Jessa has been my driving force all along.

  But did she have to be wearing that tight white tank top this morning? It made me realize that I definitely need to reacquaint myself with her body. Her breasts were really testing the strength of the fabric—all I wanted to do was pull her aside and close my mouth around her nipple.

  I knew it would be hard seeing her but I didn’t think it’d turn my mind upside down. Coming back to town, I wanted to accomplish two things: shoot some footage, but most importantly—see if Jessa and I still had that spark.

  First glance this morning and I knew without a hint of hesitation that I wanted her.

  Spark? It was a fucking bonfire.

  But she was so cold to me that maybe…. No. I know Jessa hasn’t forgotten me. She’s pissed, I get that. But there’s been no sign of her having a boyfriend, moving on. I kept track from afar and there was never anyone serious.

  I know I haven’t moved on, that’s for sure.

  The rest of the day was a true test to my concentration and professionalism. Now Melissa, the producer, and Silvio, the director, want to go over the shoot so far and what we have left to do before we can get out of town.

  I’m sitting at the swankiest bar in town, which means there are no peanut shells on the floor. I’m sipping on the twelve-year-old scotch the bartender dusted off for me and thinking about her, and the things she said to me.

  I’d hoped she’d give a warmer welcome but I suppose I can’t blame her. In her mind I just left, but she doesn’t know the whole story.

  What got under my skin was the way Jessa talked to me like I was some poser, like I didn’t know what it was like to live here, to work here. I know all too well—it’s why I left. Well, that and a few other things. Morningside Valley sucks the dreams out of people.

  I should know. If I hadn’t gotten the hell out when I did, I’d still be plowing the fields of my father’s farm while he sucked on a bottle of Wild Turkey.

  Of course, Morningside Valley is beautiful, but so is New York City. So is Los Angeles, San Francisco, Berlin, Barcelona. I’ve been all around the world and seen for myself that, despite what the locals around here say, beauty isn’t confined to this little town.

  I can’t think of beauty without thinking of Jessa. I first met her at the clinic when I brought one of the animals after he twisted his ankle in a hole. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way her eyes looked into mine. I was floored. I’ll never forget the first time she touched me. I was so tongue-tied being around her, like a damn schoolboy, that she’d thought I was worried about the animal. She touched my forearm and said, “Don’t worry, Cole. Everything will be fine.”

  In that moment I knew it was true—everything would be fine as long as I was near her.

  The only problem? I had a shit life. Back then, I had nothing but callouses on my hands and dirt in my pockets.

  I wanted out. Out of town, out of this life. But I knew that if I stayed with Jessa, I’d never leave. I asked her to go with me but she said no. And that was that. I didn’t blame her, even though I couldn’t understand why she’d want to stay in a place like this.

  I shoot back the rest of the scotch. Melissa and Silvio are late but it doesn’t matter. With Jessa on my mind, I couldn’t concentrate if a bull were charging straight for me.

  Fuck it, I think. I throw some money down on the bar, snatch my keys, and bail.

  If I’m here to see Jessa, what the hell am I doing sitting in a bar? I punch the gas and take off down the dusty road.

  When I step up on her small front porch and knock on her door, my hands are a bit sweaty. I rub my palms down the front of my jeans which, by the way, are not dry cleaned.

  I’m not here to try to get back in her pants.

  Well, that’s what I’m telling myself. I’ve had her before—Jesus, it was the most incredible night of my life—but I always worried I was too rough with her. A fucking sexual deviant, devouring her body. She’s better than that—sweeter. She needs someone who will be gentle with her, go slow, treat her carefully. Not some rough bastard like me who dominated her and ate up every ounce of her. Fuck.

  The door opens, and there she is, still in that damn white tank that clings to her every curve. She’s also changed into a pair of shorts, and my eyes can’t help but rake over the length of her body. My dick responds in kind, instantly getting
hard, as I picture myself plunging into her tight, wet pussy.

  Fuck. I need to get my head on straight and stop thinking about the past, stop thinking with my cock.

  “What are you doing here?” Jessa says, her tone bit harsh.

  “I just wanted to talk to you. I know earlier things were a little hectic, with the film crew and all.”

  She pulls the door behind her so she’s standing between me and the entrance.

  “You can’t be here,” she says. “I didn’t invite you.”

  “I’m not a vampire,” I say.

  She raises an eyebrow and doesn’t need to even say the words. I know she’s thinking that I might as well be.

  I sigh. “I just want to talk. Just for a minute.”

  She looks over her shoulder like she’s looking at something inside. It makes my temperature rise.

  “Got a guest in there or something?” I say, the thought of another man in there with her, and her looking so sexy, makes me want to push through the door and throw out whoever it might be.

  “No,” she begins. “Look, I don’t want you here, okay?”

  “Come on, Jessa.” I give her my old smile, the one that used to melt her.

  When she doesn’t say anything—but I can tell she’s thinking—I cock my head to the side and say, “Five minutes?” I take a step closer. “I promise, I’ll be quick—if you want me to be.”

  “No,” she says, and she’s firm. “You can’t come in.”

  Dang, what did I expect? I left without a word and I thought for a second that she might be waiting around for me to make my triumphant return? No, but still. I won’t give up. It’s not in me to do so. But before I can press my case she says, “We’ll go out somewhere to talk. Wait here and I’ll grab my shoes.”

  She slams the door shut, and I have a moment to feel elated. A bit confused, but happy for sure.

  She’s back quickly with a pair of flip-flops and two bottles of beer.

  “Those for you or us?” I tease as we walk to the truck.

  “It was a rough day,” she says. “Be nice and I’ll give you one.”