The Woodsman's Nanny - A Single Daddy Romance

by Emerson Rose

  She’s stiff at first but seconds later, she submits, and her body melts against mine. She’s holding a spatula in one hand, and something is popping in a pan behind her. I pull away and swat her on the ass. She’s going to regret telling me to keep my hands to myself around my daughter.

  “You’re welcome,” I say and guide my wide-eyed child from the kitchen to her playroom.

  I don’t look back, but the food that was popping continues to snap and crack on the stove until we are descending the stairs to the lower level. I wonder how long she’ll stand there with her spatula dazed, and I hope she doesn’t burn anything.

  Tori climbs up the ladder of her slide and sits at the top. “You like my Sasha, Daddy?”

  “I do, very much. Is that okay with you?”

  “Uh-huh.” She slides down, but she looks thoughtful, and I sense a but coming.

  “Is there something you want to talk about?”

  She nods still sitting at the bottom of the slide. I take a seat on an upside-down Lego bucket and wait for her to spill.

  “If you like my Sasha, what about my Zion?”

  “I like them both, princess, but I like Sasha a different way.”

  “The kissing way?”

  “Yes, the kissing way. Zion will always have a place in our home and our lives as your nanny as long as she wants or is able. Nobody can replace her. Sasha thinks she has to leave when Zion is better, but I don’t want her to. I want Sasha to be my girlfriend, and I want her to stay with us. Do you think that would work out?”

  She looks thoughtful for a moment. “What’s a girlfriend do?”

  “Girlfriends hang out with their boyfriend and his family.”

  “And they kiss and hug and stuff?”

  “Sometimes, yes.”

  “Have you ever had a girlfriend before, Daddy?”

  “Not really, bug.”

  “Was my mommy your girlfriend?”

  Crap, I wasn’t expecting the conversation to end up here. I hate to lie to her, but the truth is something a child her age simply cannot understand. Her mother was a conniving bitch who saw an opportunity to make a few bucks and took it much further.

  “Your mommy and I were friends.”

  She looks so confused, but I can’t think of a better way to explain it. I mean how do you say your mom was a slut who took me for a lot of money and abandoned you when she got caught stealing from me?

  “Are you gonna have a baby with Sasha, too?”

  Aw shit, shit, shit. Maybe Sasha was right? Maybe we should have kept our relationship hidden for a little longer? I would have avoided this difficult conversation if we had.

  “No, sweetheart, I mean not now.” This is tricky. If I tell her grown-ups don’t have a baby when they don’t know each other that could start a lot of questions about her creation. And if I tell her Sasha and I aren’t having a baby, and someday in the future we do, it makes me a liar.

  “Not now? But maybe someday?”

  I stand and scoop her into my arms. “Listen, little lady, don’t you worry about what’s going to happen someday. Sasha and I are getting to know each other now. We are the grown-ups, trust us to do what’s best for you, okay?”

  “Okay.” She kisses my cheek and wiggles from my arms to go and sit on the swing. “Push me!” she yells and voila, discussion over.

  Kids are like a tornado. They’re frenzied and full of worry one minute and calm kisses the next. I’m not complaining. I’ll take calm kisses any time over frenzied worry.

  Forty-five minutes later, Sasha calls downstairs for us to come and eat. Every step I take toward the kitchen makes my mouth water more. The smell of cheese and onions and bacon hangs heavy in the air reminding me that I haven’t eaten since early this morning before surgery.

  “Mmm, danger dinner smells good,” Tori says, racing into the kitchen just as Sasha is removing a baking pan from the oven.

  “Go wash up quick so you can eat,” she says, and Tori disappears into the bathroom off the kitchen to wash her hands.

  “That’s an understatement. It smells like a gourmet French café in here.” I move behind her and slide my hands down her hips looking over her shoulder at the casserole pan she’s placing on a trivet. “You made Tartiflette?”

  She smiles and leans back against me. “Hey, how’d you know?”

  “I love French food, and it smells better than any Tartiflette I’ve ever had in my life, and I’ve been to France and eaten it there.”

  “You’ll like mine better, guarantee it.”

  “I like this cocky side of you, it’s hot.”

  She giggles, and Tori returns to the kitchen with her arms dripping wet. “Hey there, I think you forgot something, bug.”

  “I’m hungry,” she whines wiping her arms on her interesting outfit that I have failed to inquire about yet.

  “Hop up on a stool, and we can eat. What do you want to drink?” I ask her moving toward the refrigerator.

  “Chocolate milk.”

  “One chocolate milk coming up, how about you?” I ask Sasha.

  “Oh, I got a bottle of wine from the wine cellar for you. I hope that’s okay. I already poured you a glass, it’s breathing on the table.” She’s going about placing the Tartiflette on plates garnishing each one with little sprigs of parsley talking to me about breathing wine like she’s a professional chef.

  “Sasha?”

  “Yeah?” she answers not looking up.

  “Have you been a cook in a restaurant before?”

  She wipes a little bit of cheese off the edge of one of the plates. “No, why?”

  “You just seem to be very knowledgeable about it, and if this tastes as good as it smells, I’m going to have to open up a restaurant for you.”

  “I wish. That’s always been a dream of mine, just never had the money or the management skills to do it.”

  “I might be able to help with that.”

  “It’s just a dream. I don’t know the first thing about running a business, and I have no formal training in the kitchen.”

  “That’s why you hire people to do the management part for you, and nobody is going to give a shit where you went to school to learn to cook after they taste your food.” I reach around her and grab a fork stabbing a bite of the French cheese, bacon, potato, and onion dish. When I slide the fork into my mouth, she slaps my hand. I moan and close my eyes when the food touches my tastebuds. “Holy shit, Sasha,” I say with my mouth still full of food.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she says, but she’s smiling like a mad woman. “You like it?”

  I sigh and continue to chew nodding my head up and down.

  “I wanna try, I wanna try!” Tori yells when she sees my reaction. Now that’s more like my girl. I get another bite and reach across the island to put it into her mouth. This will be the true test. Tori is a picky eater, and if she likes it, Sasha is a miracle worker.

  “Mmm, that’s good, can I have my plate?” she says reaching across the island to pull her plate in front of her.

  “Well, that’s two for two. I think you should be on your way to owning your own place. That kid is the pickiest eater on the planet, and she’s eating. Great job.”

  Sasha smiles a shy smile and looks down at the food. “Hey, where did the confident, cocky chef go? Take the compliment, you deserve it.”

  “Thanks.”

  I pull her in for a side hug and kiss her on the cheek. Tori watches us being affectionate and reaches out her hand across the island. “Love me, too,” she demands. We both reach for her hand, and she smiles.

  It’s amazing how right all of this feels. If someone had told me a month ago that I would be falling for a former shoe salesperson at Macy’s and welcoming her into my very private life, I would have laughed in their face and told them they were insane.

  Sometimes life is nuts.

  17

  Sasha

  For the first time in my life, I just let down my guard and admitted that I’ve
always dreamed of being a chef and owning my own restaurant. It’s no secret to my friends and family that I can cook, but I have always kept my talent at bay, and my dreams of cooking far out at sea locked up in a treasure chest on a pirate ship.

  I have always known in my heart that I’m a good cook. But Enrique did a wonderful job of destroying my self-confidence in the kitchen, which should have been a blaring indicator to me that I was exceptional because he didn’t try to squash the hopes and dreams of adequacy.

  He enjoyed breaking me down. It made him feel better about himself somehow. I never understood that, but I knew it just the same. When I started living with Twyla, I slowly began to display my talents, and she was careful not to go overboard with the compliments sensing that I needed time to build up my confidence again.

  Now Xander is giving me a glimmer of hope that someday I might be standing in my own kitchen creating dishes that people will pay a fistful of money to eat. I shouldn’t let myself get carried away. Accepting Xander’s help would be the same as signing his and Victoria’s death certificate. It’s fun to let go and imagine it happening for a little while, though.

  “Dishes are in the dishwasher, and Tori’s upstairs putting her pajamas on,” Xander says joining me on the patio. We decided one full day inside was being cautious enough, and honest to God, if I had to stay inside another hour, I was going to lose my shit.

  “I wanted to talk to you quick before she comes down about her medication. The pills you’ve been giving her in the morning are to ease her anxiety. She takes them every day, but there are others for emergencies like today.

  “I’m proud of her for keeping her cool today, and from the sounds of it, she didn’t need the break-through meds, but they’re there when she does. Also, at night, she takes something to help her sleep. I forgot to tell you about those, and that’s likely why she was up so much during the night last night.

  “Anyway, those are in my bathroom in the medicine cabinet. She takes one at bedtime. She doesn’t like taking medicine, and I hate giving it to her, but she was a total mess before them. I couldn’t go to work, I couldn’t even go to the bathroom. She would have to sit right outside the door with it cracked while I pissed. She’s come a long way, even further since she met you.”

  “Me? What do you mean?”

  “Had a stranger been seen lurking around outside two weeks ago when she was home with Zion, she would have been hospitalized. She’s got PTSD as bad as a soldier who has just returned from the front lines of war. What she went through will make your skin crawl and give you nightmares.”

  “What’s different about now?”

  “She’s relaxed with you. She senses you’ve been through something similar, and she trusts you because of it.”

  “Oh.” Wow, I feel kind of weird knowing I’m providing her strength. That’s a lot of responsibility, and what happens when I’m gone?

  “Can we go for a walk now? Is it safe?” Victoria says from behind us. I turn, and she’s standing in the doorway clutching the edge of the door dressed in lemon yellow satin pajamas with a royal blue chiffon trim and a pair of matching slippers with bows on the toe. She’s better at dressing for bed than she is dressing for the day.

  “Well, look at you. You look like a beautiful yellow bird ready to fly into dreamland,” Xander says holding out his arms for her. She runs to him, and he snuggles her close. “I think we can take a short walk on the beach before bed as long as we all go together. What do you think, Sasha?”

  He’s asking me? Why because she didn’t freak out today when I called the police? Groaning inwardly, I make a wish that this isn’t the start of him asking for my advice. I’m still winging it with the kid stuff, and I have no business being asked what I think.

  “Oh, I uh, I don’t know. Maybe you should make that decision, whatever you think is best.”

  “All right, I think it’s fine. Let’s go before it gets dark.”

  Now I wish I had given my two cents because panic is starting to set in. What if Enrique is out there watching, and Xander kisses me or holds my hand?

  “Maybe we shouldn’t. I mean ice cream sounds really good, don’t you think, Victoria?” She looks from her father to me and back confused.

  “Daddy?”

  Xander’s gaze slides to me, and he takes in my nervous hands rolling the hem of my shirt and my bouncing knee.

  “Yes, I forgot I bought that chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream last time we went grocery shopping. We haven’t even tried it yet, let’s go.” He stands and takes hold of my hands pulling me to my feet and into an embrace. At first, I’m relieved to feel his warmth all around me, and then I remember we are outside, and there’s still a little sunlight left.

  I stiffen in his arms, and my heart pounds in my chest. Dammit, why is my body betraying me? At this rate, I’ll have to tell him everything just to keep my job for the next two weeks. Then when he knows, I’ll be fired for sure.

  “Hey, you’re shaking like a leaf. Let’s get you inside.”

  “Sorry, I guess the breeze is a little chilly.”

  He pulls away holding me at arms’ length. “We are talking tonight. I know you’re holding something back from me, and we aren’t going to sleep until you tell me what it is.”

  I nod my head. Maybe it’s for the best to tell him and go back home where the only person in danger would be me.

  Inside, I try to brush off the sudden onset of nerves and eat ice cream with them, but I’m not fooling anyone. The rest of the evening they take turns shooting me concerned looks until Victoria’s eyes are droopy.

  I turned my nervous energy into chatter talking until there was nothing left to talk about. When we go to bed, its honesty time, and I’m trying to put it off as long as possible. Xander knows what I’m up to, and he allows it until he can’t stand to watch his daughter’s head bob back and forth anymore.

  “I’m going to put her to bed, her sleeping pill kicked in. Meet me upstairs in my office in ten minutes.” He stands taking his body heat with him. The right side of my body is chilly now, and I feel like I’ve been summoned to the principal’s office.

  “Okay.”

  I watch him walk away with Victoria limp in his arms. When they are out of sight, I take my phone from my pocket and check my messages. One from Twyla gushing about Xander’s house—she must have found the picture online. Another is from Sam at work asking if I’m doing okay after being fired. And nothing from Enrique since earlier today, thank God.

  I get off the couch and pick up our ice cream dishes, rinse them out, and put them in the dishwasher nice and slow. No need to rush the inevitable. I straighten some books on the coffee table and put the remote away in its spot. The glass wall has enormous doors, and they are still open. I cross the room and shut them locking the regular lock and a deadbolt that connects to the floor.

  I stare out into the dark and wonder if Enrique is still out there, and if he is, what is he planning? Suddenly, I’m extremely grateful for Xander’s security system, bulletproof glass, and steel doors.

  When I turn around and survey the living room and kitchen, I sigh. It’s as clean and tidy as it’s going to get. I have to bite the bullet and go upstairs to talk to Xander about my past. I shut off the lights, all but one, and climb the stairs slowly.

  I peek into Victoria’s bedroom when I walk past hoping that Xander will still be tucking her in, but he isn’t. She’s resting on her side holding her Miss Ellie elephant.

  I continue down the hall until I come to an open door. Inside, Xander is sitting behind his desk looking at a computer screen. When he sees me, he closes the window on his screen and stands up.

  “I thought we could talk in here, fewer distractions… not as many temptations as the bedroom.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Let’s sit on the couch. Can I get you a drink?”

  A drink—hell yes, that sounds like a damn good idea. Maybe I’ll have a few. I don’t think I’m going to like what I hear ton
ight and a little dulling of the brain cells couldn’t hurt.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Wine?”

  “Got anything stronger?” He looks at me with one eyebrow raised like the Rock. “What?”

  “Nothing. Scotch strong enough?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He has a small bar built into the wall next to the sitting area. I watch him pour us both a double, and he hands me one before sitting opposite me. He’s serious about the no- temptation business.

  “Sasha, you know I did a background check on you and nothing out of the ordinary came up, but I can’t help think you’re keeping something from me. Something important. We haven’t known each other long, but I want you to know you can trust me.”

  I hold up my hand palm out. “Stop, it has nothing to do with trust. I’ve felt a strange connection with you since we met in the ER. I will admit, I have been through some things that aren’t on your background report, but I think the less you know about that, the better.”

  “Oh you do, do you? Why’s that?”

  “It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Sasha, if there is a strange man lurking around my house during the day watching you while he smokes half a pack of cigarettes, I’m pretty damn sure I have a right to know what’s going on.” He’s right. He does have the right to know, and I should tell him. Maybe he could help me? Maybe he could stop Enrique?

  No. Nobody can stop Enrique, not even the police. I have to end this now.

  I scoot to the edge of the couch and lean forward clasping my hands together. “Xander, I’m so sorry. I know this will put you in a difficult spot, but I think the best thing for everyone would be for me to leave. Zion will be home Friday, and I’m sure you can find a temporary nanny for a couple of days until she’s back on her feet.” I have no idea how long that will be, and it breaks my heart to think of someone else stepping into my shoes when I’m gone, but it’s for the best.

  “Absolutely not,” he says taking a long drink of his scotch.