Game Changer: A Single Dad/Nanny Romance (Change of Hearts Book 1)

by Sierra Hill

  I can honestly say I’ve never had a better friend. He’s been my rock. My friend to the end. And I love him like a brother.

  I give him a shake of my head, hoping to convince him I’m all right. Even if I’m not sure whether I am or not.

  “Yeah, man. Everything’s good. I mean, as good as they can be, I should say.”

  He plants half an ass against the table, crossing his legs at the ankles and folding his arms across his chest. For a professor and history buff who is never without a book and never went into a museum he didn’t like, he’s still very athletic in his build. We played college ball together and although he doesn’t play now, he still gets outdoors a lot. Hiking, climbing and off-road biking.

  “Caleb doing okay? Is he getting excited for his birthday? Because I found the best birthday present for him just last week. Dude, it’s perfect.”

  I tilt my head and grunt suspiciously. “You remember that I can veto anything that’s too loud, too fast and too expensive, right? Sometimes Uncle Lucas’s judgment isn’t the best when it comes down to a kid with a disability.”

  He snorts. “I have no idea what you mean, bro. I do extensive research on these things.”

  Lifting a brow, I show him no mercy. “So, you’re using the NASA space station jungle gym you bought him last year as proof that you employ common sense when buying my son gifts?”

  This high-tech set up he purchased and tried assembling for Caleb for his fourth birthday last year was a mess. It was two-stories high and was definitely not something he could access with his mobility limitations.

  Lucas frowns, the corners of his mouth curling down and his shoulders sagging with a sigh.

  “Fine, I’ll admit I got a little over excited by the whole NASA thing and thought maybe Caleb would grow into it. Epic failure. But this time, I know it’ll be a success,” he confirms with a jab of his dress shoe toe into my shin. I lean down to rub the spot and look back up at him.

  We’re such a sharp contrast in style and lifestyle. Except for the suits I wear on game days, my typical uniform is track pants or shorts and tees. Lucas, however, was raised wealthy and with some pedigree, and he always looks the part. I’d give him hell if he wore the elbow-patched tweed jackets, but his fashion sense is a much higher grade. Today it’s a button-down shirt, with sleeves, rolled up to expose his forearms, and gray dress slacks.

  “Spit it out. If it’s not Caleb, what is it?”

  Bending at the waist, my legs spread wide, I lean down and plant my elbows on my knees and rest my head in my hands.

  “I make poor choices, Luc. And it’s always getting me into messy situations.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following you. What poor choices are we talking about?”

  I tip my chin up and give him that look that says, ‘Do I really need to spell this out for you?’

  Lucas patiently waits for me to explain.

  “I hired a summer nanny.”

  His smooth forehead screws up tight and then relaxes. “That’s right, Delinda retired. But it’s a good thing, right? Otherwise, you would’ve had a tough summer trying to juggle Caleb and the basketball camp. And your mother would have had to come down.”

  Giving myself a moment, I lean back into the chair and close my eyes, picturing the beautiful nanny living in my home, taking care of my son and making me think and do things I shouldn’t be thinking or doing.

  Like this morning. What the hell was I thinking to start that game with Brooklyn? What on earth prompted me to tickle or touch her like I did?

  Christ almighty, I’m a fucking idiot.

  “Yeah, I hired a grad student to watch over Caleb this summer. It’s been a week and Caleb already loves her. She’s such a natural with him. Not at all squeamish or bothered by the things outside the norm that she needs to do to care for him. She’s perfect.”

  “Mmm-kay,” he stalls, moving to the chair next to mine to sit down. “Sounds like a great hire, then. So, what’s the problem? What am I missing?”

  I let out a long-suffering sigh. “She’s a live-in nanny.”

  Lucas still has an ‘I don’t get it’ look on his face.

  “And…?”

  “And, I may not have only jerked off while thinking about her last night, but I also touched her inappropriately today.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” Lucas’s head rears back and his hands shoot up to his ears, covering them like one of those Hear No Evil, Say No Evil, Do No Evil monkey emojis.

  “I don’t want to hear any of this, bro. That way I don’t have to testify against you if she decides to sue.”

  “Fuck man, it wasn’t like that. At least, I don’t think it was,” I mutter, confusion over what transpired between us this morning clouding my head and tripping me up. “We were playing a game with Caleb over breakfast. And I may have tickled Brooklyn in the process and picked her up and held her. But it wasn’t sexual in any way. I swear.”

  And it wasn’t. Or didn’t start out that way.

  But I can’t lie. I liked the way her body felt pressed against mine. Her feminine scent and curves did all sorts of crazy things to my libido. That’s why I had to get out of there as fast as I could and left before I even finished breakfast. I know based on the look she gave me when I left abruptly that she was confused by my sudden departure, and I feel bad about that. But if I hadn’t left when I did, I was bound to do something I’d regret.

  And therein lies the problem.

  If my thoughts are this inappropriate so soon after hiring Brooklyn for this job, what’s going to become of me as the summer progresses? After seeing her day-in and day-out? Finding her bent over my son’s bathtub with her ass half-exposed every night. Or opening my door to see her standing in a darkened hallway in her teeny-tiny pajamas, her pert nipples poking through the cotton material, as if begging me to pluck them or suck them into my mouth?

  “Did you say her name is Brooklyn? As in, Brooklyn Hayes?”

  “Yeah.”

  He purses his lips and nods as if he understands all my problems.

  “I can see the attraction. She’s beautiful and intelligent. Great smile. Great ass.”

  I give him a mock look of horror. He’s always been pretty nonchalant about women, leading me to believe he might be confused about his sexuality and preference.

  “Have you slept with her?” I ask, jealousy taking flight in my caveman brain.

  “Hell no,” he bellows incredulously. “She interned for Professor Wilson in the psychology department a few semesters ago. I think she was a child psychology major. Anyway, I met her at some function and afterward Wilson couldn’t say enough glowing things about her. You definitely got a good one there, G. So, here’s my advice.”

  I lean in, hoping he’ll bestow on me some brotherly counsel that will be the answer to all my problems.

  He pats my knee and smiles. “Keep your dick in your pants. Problem solved.”

  Asshole.

  10

  Brooklyn

  After a dramatic outburst of tears and begging from Peyton, I finally agreed to go out with her on Friday night to a summer block party.

  It’s an annual event held around the university the last weekend in June where two city blocks are cordoned off and filled with food trucks and carnival games and lots of beer gardens for festival goers. We’ve gone together the last two years and there was no way I could back out on her, even though I tried my hardest.

  I’ve been working with Garrett and Caleb for nearly a month now feeling my way through the daily routines (and occasional mishaps and landmines) of their life, getting accustomed to living with them. Although Garrett told me right from the start that I was free to come and go as I please on weekends (minus the sleepovers) I still felt weird leaving them to their own devices on a Friday night.

  Walking down the hallway toward the front door, I hear sounds coming from the living room where Garrett and Caleb are hanging out, both on the floor playing with Legos.

  Garrett does a double-t
ake as he looks up from his structure, a small frown crinkling the edges of his mouth, and then returns his gaze to the building.

  “I hope it’s okay, but I’m going down to the festival tonight with my friend Peyton. I won’t be out too late.”

  “I said it was okay. You have a right to a life.” His voice is gruff and with a bit of sarcasm.

  Pausing for a moment, I’m uncertain how to respond. The last few days I thought things were pretty good between me and Garrett. It’s not like we’ve been sharing intimate details about our lives, but we have some good conversations in the evening after I’ve finished up the dinner clean-up as he’s put Caleb to bed.

  In fact, just last night we ended up watching the Arizona Sun’s game on TV together, me rooting for the Suns and him cheering on the Pacers, his former team. I’d asked him what it was like to in the spotlight like that and the pressure that came with NBA stardom.

  He’d lifted a shoulder noncommittally. “At first, I ate it up. I was pretty cocky as a rookie and would spout-off to my teammates and talk a lot of smack to other players. I cringe at some of the locker room interviews I did back then. I was such a conceited ass.”

  I’d laughed, not because I agreed with him, having never seen those interviews, but I couldn’t reconcile the Garrett he was describing with the Garrett I’d become familiar with. Even though all the rumors circulated around campus since he joined the coaching staff indicated that he was an arrogant, self-centered prick, I just didn’t see it.

  What I saw was a reserved man who cared about two things – his son and his players.

  But what I hadn’t learned yet was what caused that reservation and the turmoil that seemed to lie just underneath the surface.

  I don’t immediately respond to his barbed remark about having a life, wondering if he just had a bad day with the team, and lean down and place a kiss on top of Caleb’s damp, just bathed head.

  “I’ll come in and kiss you good night when I get home, Caleb. And maybe I’ll win a fun prize for you at the carnival game.”

  He babbles excitedly and flaps his arms, which I take as a sign of interest.

  Garrett sits just at my side and I notice he gives a surreptitious glance at my legs, starting at my sandaled feet and working up to the hem of my jean shorts. When he finally lifts his chin and our eyes meet, his flicker with a dark, mysterious gleam before he looks away, returning back to the Lego blocks.

  “Okay, I’ll see you both later. I hope you have a good night.”

  Keeping his head down, he responds. “Yeah. You, too.”

  I leave out the front door and get to my car, wondering why he is being so surly all of a sudden. Maybe I should’ve asked if they wanted to come along? The street carnival would’ve been fun for Caleb, with all the people and games and lights and music, except it’s a Friday night and would be way past his bedtime.

  I’m nearly ready to go back inside to invite Garrett when my phone rings and I see it’s Peyton.

  “Heya, babes, I’m just about ready to leave,” I answer.

  “Awesome. I’ll be there in ten and will meet you by the Banana-Split truck. I’ve been starving myself all week just so I could indulge.”

  Something akin to fear creeps into my chest like an overgrown vine. “Peyton, I hope you don’t mean that. You can’t starve yourself like that.”

  Since living with Peyton in the same apartment for the last several years, I’m well aware of her past issues with food. Specifically, her eating disorder that began when she was twelve and she finally got a handle on last year with the help of a counselor and group therapy. It was alarming to see her drop two sizes in a manner of months the first year we roomed together, but I just figured she was stressed out over school. Turns out, it was much deeper than that.

  Peyton scoffs in my ear. “I don’t mean it literally, Brook. I’m healthy, I swear.”

  “Okay, good,” I acknowledge, turning the corner out of Garrett’s cul-de-sac. “I’ll see you soon.”

  As I end the call, I worry about how Peyton is doing without me now and if she and the new roommate get along as well as we do together.

  Which leads me back to wondering what I may have done to rub Garrett the wrong way tonight. Everyone has their foul moods from time-to-time, and it was an especially long week for him. Maybe he was hoping I’d be around to pick up the slack so he could rest tonight.

  Dammit, now I feel guilty for leaving him tonight because being a single-parent has got to be difficult and I’m sure he could use all the help he can get. But on the other hand, I deserve that time off, too. It was in my contract and I’m not beholden to him every waking hour.

  I can’t say I haven’t been curious about his personal life, though. It surprises me that a gorgeous man like Garrett hasn’t found love again. Or doesn’t even date. As far as I know, he doesn’t go out with anyone. I haven’t seen him with anyone, at least.

  None of my business, I remind myself, as I pull into a parking spot along the street a few blocks away from the carnival. As I start the trek to our meet-up spot, my phone vibrates with a text notification in my pocket. It’s probably Peyton again telling me she’s there.

  As I glance down at the phone, I’m surprised by not only who it’s from but the content of the message.

  Coach Parker: I’m sorry for my piss-poor mood tonight. Have a fun time. You deserve it.

  My heart thumps at the sweet apology.

  And then the next text solidifying just how truly sweet he is.

  Coach Parker: I really appreciate you, Brooklyn. Thank you for being so great with Caleb.

  And then he sends the cutest picture of Caleb, smiling huge for the photo in front of the finished Lego building he erected.

  I sigh at his words of appreciation and adorable photo but am a little disappointed that it didn’t include Garrett.

  But just the fact that he was thoughtful enough to send the compliment and the fact that he expressed his appreciation in this manner has my insides tingling with deep, warm gratitude.

  And maybe a little of something else.

  11

  Garrett

  I know I was a first-class asshole to Brooklyn before she left earlier tonight. She didn’t deserve my hostility or frustration.

  The heat and exhaustion from the week had really done a number on me and all I’d really wanted to do when I came home was to grab an ice-cold beer and plop on the couch to watch a game on TV. Instead, Brooklyn let me know after dinner that she was meeting up with her friend Peyton.

  And goddamn, the minute she walked into the front room with her hair down in curled waves, a light amount of make-up adorning her eyelashes and cheekbones, and those short shorts, I turned into a jealous beast.

  In my mind, Peyton is a dude she’s meeting. One of those names that can go either way. Peyton Manning, etc. The thought of her going out on a date with some dude named Peyton just riled me up, even though I have no right to feel jealous or proprietary over Brooklyn. She’s simply my hired help. My son’s nanny. A woman, who only after a month, has quickly become indispensable to me.

  And, I like her a damn lot.

  Over the last month, she’s impressed me with her incredible knowledge and expertise in how she manages Caleb and his special needs. She’s sweet but firm. Nurturing but not a pushover. I like that about her.

  There have been a few instances where she pushes back a bit more with me, especially when it comes to that damn service dog. I don’t know how she does it, but at every turn, she has a way of fitting it into the conversation.

  For instance, when we went to a park last weekend with Caleb, it was doggie heaven. She’d say, “Oh, look Caleb. Isn’t that dog so sweet?” or “It would be so fun to watch Caleb run around with a dog, wouldn’t it, Garrett?”

  I’d bite my tongue or roll my eyes at her comments, and either snap back or ignore it altogether.

  But the thing is, I know she’s not wrong. I’ve thought about it considerably, especially after she k
eeps nudging me about it. I’ve even Googled the local canine companion services to find out what their selection criteria might be. I’m not a complete ogre in this arena.

  Now it’s become almost fun to banter back and forth with her over it. To wind her up and watch her go. She’s pretty cute when she gets all animated and worked up over the subject matter.

  Not to mention, sexy as fuck.

  Finding her attractive and wanting to fuck her is highly inconvenient. I’d hoped as the summer progressed it would get easier. That I would become desensitized with having her in the house, in my personal space and being around her. Every day and every night.

  It also doesn’t help that we’ve established a new norm in the evenings. After Caleb is in bed, Brooklyn will bring a book, her favorites are the John Sanford thrillers, and sit on the couch as we watch a basketball game or other sporting event on TV together. I enjoy those nights and have become accustomed to her presence.

  Therefore, that’s the real reason I was so pissy tonight when she went outside the norm. I felt left out of her life.

  Deciding I need to do something to shake up my routine and have my own life, I take Lucas up on his offer and make arrangements to go out tomorrow night.

  Caleb plays quietly on the floor next to me as I grab my phone and call Lucas up.

  When he answers, he does so with a loud ruckus voice. “Yo, G!”

  In the background, I hear metal clanging and loud grunts of exertion. “Hey man, did I catch you at a bad time?”

  He sounds out of breath. “Nah, man. I’m at the gym just finishing up. What’s up?”

  “Checking in to see if you want to go out tomorrow night? I really need a break from my scene.” I say this last part with my hand covering my mouth and in a low tone, so Caleb doesn’t overhear me.

  I feel guilty over saying it, and even just thinking it, but every single parent needs a break now and then, right? Even if it’s just for a few hours. We need it for our sanity.