The Woodsman's Nanny - A Single Daddy Romance

by Emerson Rose

  We order drinks and then dinner after a few generic rounds of the get to know your date game. I learned that Violet’s favorite color is purple—imagine that—and that she is messy and named her computer Clementine. Things I didn’t learn from the game but are more important to me are that she observes everything around her, and she watches and gathers information, storing it for later. She’s competitive, educated and she is left-handed. She has the most adorable habit of tucking her hair behind her left ear, even when it’s already there.

  After dinner, we make our way into the bar and join the group of people visiting for the wedding. It’s a much larger bunch tonight, twenty-five or thirty in all.

  “Are all these people part of the wedding party?” I ask Violet. This is the first time we have spoken directly to each other since the heel-stabbing incident. It seems like a safe enough subject to broach.

  “No, people are starting to fly in for the wedding. I think a lot of these people are guests.”

  “So we’re talking again?” I ask as she sits in the chair I’ve just pulled out for her.

  “We were never not talking.”

  I sit next to her and lift my hand to Wendy at the bar. She knows what I drink, and after last night, I’m pretty sure she knows what Violet drinks too. Violet follows my gaze to Wendy.

  “Old girlfriend?” she says, and God willing, I sense a little jealousy in her tone.

  “I don’t have girlfriends, remember? One-night-stands only, and yes, Wendy and I have slept together, but she knows the rules.”

  Shit, that came out wrong. Actually, it came out right, but it’s different with Violet.

  Frown lines crease her forehead and her lips are set in a straight line. This is a pissed Violet. Time to backpedal.

  “I don’t mean that there are—”

  She cuts me off. “No, no. I see now—rules. Games have rules, and I don’t play games, Major Steele, so if you’ll excuse me, please, I have a song request to make.”

  She’s up and gone, clicking across the dance floor in those incredible heels before I can stop her and explain myself. I’m not even sure what I would have said, because sex is a game for me—at least it has been since my wife died six years ago. I’ve never had feelings for another woman, not even close. But Violet has me rethinking my game. She has me feeling things, things I’m not sure I want to feel, things I don’t know what to do with.

  My eyes never leave her as she takes a slip of paper and writes down her song request and hands it to the DJ. He smiles and winks at her, and a pang of jealousy hits me in the heart. Jealousy. That’s something I haven’t felt in years. It’s happened on at least three occasions with Violet in the past twenty-four hours. First it was Garcia when he tried to help her with her shirt, then the ass wipe on the street with his hands all over her, and now a fucking DJ. All unreasonable situations with unworthy opponents, but I was jealous just the same.

  The DJ’s voice fills the bar, and the crowd lowers the sound to a dull murmur.

  “Hey how ya’ll doin tonight?” he yells into the microphone, and everyone holds up a drink and yells an enthusiastic collective “Yeah!”

  “If you have a song request, just come on up and fill out a slip old-school style. We’re gonna start out with this fine little lady over here.” He points at Violet, who is now standing center stage holding the microphone with her feet shoulder width apart.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Violet.”

  “Okay, give it up for Violet singing The Black Eyed Peas Don’t Phunk with My Heart!”

  The music starts, and I groan. She’s going to take this out on me publicly. Great.

  I consider excusing myself until I hear her voice and I’m frozen in my seat. She can sing. She can really sing. She could give old Fergie a run for her money when she sings the chorus, I wonder if I take you home, would you still be in love, baby.

  Thing is, I know this song too, and I’ve been known to win a few Karaoke contests in my time. I stand and close the gap between us, watching her eyes grow wide. She doesn’t miss a beat while she watches me hop on the stage and grab the second microphone off its stand. Will.i.am’s verse starts, and she opens her mouth, but I sing the words before she can.

  Girl, you know you got me, got me, with your pistol shot me, shot me.

  “Oh! It’s a sing off, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s hear it for the Major!” the DJ yells, and Violet and I proceed to battle it out with the lyrics, me doing Will’s part and her doing Fergie’s verses.

  I glance out and see the whole bar on their feet dancing on the dance floor and next to their tables. They don’t hold my attention for long, though. I can’t keep my eyes off Violet. The way her hips sway when she sings I wonder if I take you home, the way she seductively slinks around on the stage curling her finger toward herself, inviting me in.

  I accept her invitation, wrapping my free arm around her waist and turning her around so her back is to my front. We rock our hips side to side together and continue to belt out the lyrics until the song is over and the crowd is roaring. They loved us.

  I kiss her damp neck, and we hand over the mics to the DJ, who is smiling from ear to ear.

  “You two were great!”

  “Thanks,” I say and take Violet’s hand and lead her off stage and toward the bar. She’s tugging at my arm, but I’m ahead of her and I’m not stopping until I show her she’s not a game to me.

  “Oh, no, no, Casanova, the song was fun, but I’m not following your rules,” she says when she sees we are approaching the kitchen doors.

  I grip her hand and clench my jaw. If she’d give me two fucking seconds, I’d tell her she’s not a damn game.

  I get her through the door, but when it closes behind us, she stops short and holds my arm with both hands, trying to prevent me from taking her any further. Not happening. She’s five foot three and a half in stilettos and I’m six feet of solid muscle.

  The bathroom isn’t but a few feet inside the kitchen doors, but Violet slides the whole way on the balls of her feet, pulling against my arm.

  “No, no, no. What the hell do you not understand about no, Major?”

  I open the bathroom door. Thank God no one was in there, or this might have been the end of us. I pull her inside and press her back against the door, threading my fingers behind her neck into her damp hair and covering her mouth with mine. She struggles at first and I brace myself to be bitten, but just when I’m about to give up and let her go, she melts against my chest and wraps her arms around my neck. A moan rumbles up my throat, and she kisses me harder, deeper, with more passion.

  I remember my text request and slide my hand down her hip and pull at the hem of her skirt to see if she was telling me the truth.

  “Fuck, Vie.” She’s soaking wet, but what’s even better is that she’s freshly waxed. Her mound is soft and silky, with no barriers between us.

  “I need to taste you.” I turn her back to the small vanity and shove her dress up around her waist. I lift her onto the counter, and she instinctively releases me and presses her hands against the wall on either side of her. Our kiss never breaking, I spread her knees apart and step between her legs. I can feel the heat pouring out of her core and it makes my cock twitch, but this moment is about her, about proving something to her.

  I kiss my way along the side of her neck and palm her breasts with both hands, brushing my thumbs over her stiff nipples.

  Before I crouch down to give her something I never give a woman, I look her straight in the eyes.

  “Violet, you’re not a game to me and there are no rules.”

  She gasps. I slide my hands along her thighs, spreading her legs wider before I lower myself between them. I support her legs with my hands while I blow a long, slow puff of air on her wet lips. The muscles in her legs quiver, and her head bumps against the mirror behind her when I drag my tongue along her wet slit.

  “Oh God, Major,” she all but yells. I’m pretty sure all
is forgiven, but she tastes so good I can’t stop. I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue until she’s about to writhe off the damn vanity. She smells like peaches and vanilla today instead of lavender, and her soft flesh against my lips is irresistible. I bury my face between her sexy fucking thighs and give her what she needs, licking and sucking until she screams my name.

  Ah, perfection.

  I stand up and take her in, flushed, lips parted, panting. Never has there been a more beautiful woman, ever. I remove her stiff arms from the walls and place them around my neck and hold her. She begins to shake, and I think she’s crying, but when I pull her away from me, I see she’s laughing.

  “Something funny, Ms. Washington?”

  “I can’t believe you knew the words to that song,” she says, giggling.

  “I can’t believe you thought you were going to stand up there and sing it to me.”

  “You were an ass.”

  “You misinterpreted what I said. Again.”

  She bites her lip, and her laughing subsides.

  “I wonder if I took you home . . .” she sings softly.

  “Don’t you worry about a thing, baby, ‘cuz you know you got me by a string, baby,” I sing back.

  “Do I?” she asks.

  “You most certainly do.”

  10

  And The Earth Shook

  Violet

  Well, now I’m worthless. I may as well go back to the hotel. I can’t go out there and sing another Karaoke song after the Major just rendered me useless. That bathroom in the kitchen has seen some serious action the past couple of days. I wonder if he’s brought a lot of women back here?

  “How many women have you seduced in this crappy little bathroom?” I ask as he washes his hands and face.

  “One.”

  “Just me?”

  “Yes, only you.”

  “Hmm . . . good.”

  I watch him smile at me in the mirror. He blows his hands dry, and we slip out of the bathroom back into the bar. My legs feel like jelly walking in these stilts after that mind-blowing O. As if he’s read my mind, he slides his arm around my waist to support me.

  Everyone congratulates us on our performance. No one can believe it was totally impromptu, but we assure everyone that it was. I feel like the whole table knows the Major just blew my mind in the bathroom with his tongue, but I’m probably just being paranoid. We were gone a while, though, and one person in particular noticed our absence. My mother.

  “That was some performance up there. You two should start a show.”

  I roll my eyes and laugh it off.

  “We didn’t plan it or anything. It just happened.”

  “It’s always best that way. Where did you two go? You disappeared for quite a while there.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and purse my lips.

  “What? Can’t a mother wonder what her daughter’s been up to?”

  I shake my head back and forth and the Major leans around me, “She won’t kiss and tell, but I will. We were in the—” I gasp and clasp my hand over his mouth, cutting him off.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I say.

  “He was about to tell me—” I cut Mom off too.

  “You two need to cool it. Mother, he’s right. I don’t kiss and tell.” I turn to the Major. “And if you know what’s good for you, neither will you.”

  I feel him smile under my hand, and I give him a don’t you dare look before releasing him.

  “Sorry, Lilly. We don’t kiss and tell,” he says, and I smile and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Hey, I had to try,” she says, smiling over the rim of her glass. Something catches her eye behind me, and all at once, she’s lost interest. I follow her gaze out onto the dance floor, where a very handsome man about Mom’s age is dancing with what I hope to God is his daughter and not his date.

  “Mother?”

  “Yes, honey?” she answers without taking her eyes off the silver fox.

  “Be careful,” I say.

  “Says the girl who went home with a stranger last night and didn’t tell her mother she was leaving,” she says, standing up to go dance.

  “Touché,” I say.

  “She’s right, you really should never go home with strangers,” the Major says and takes a swig of his drink while he scans the room.

  “Looking for something?” I ask.

  “No, I’ve got everything I need right here.” He slides his arm around my shoulder, hugging me close to kiss me on top of my head. I usually don’t care for public displays of affection, especially top of the head kisses. They always feel parental to me, but with the Major, it feels different. He makes me feel . . . cherished. I know it’s crazy after only one day, but it’s true.

  “Your mother is very confident, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. She’s been more extroverted since my father died. She didn’t used to be like this.”

  “She didn’t have to be, did she? She was happily married, I assume.”

  “Yes. Yes, she was,” I say, watching my beautiful mother tap the silver fox on the shoulder. He turns to smile at her and they exchange a few words. She waves her hand in a little circle toward the young woman he’s dancing with and then motions to the bar. Silver fox nods and returns to dancing with the young woman.

  “I think she’s lonely. I think she misses Dad more than she lets on.”

  “I’m sure she does.” His words are so full of sadness, I almost ask if he’s lost someone close to him, but Kimber and Garcia return to the table, chattering about some crazy couple they saw making out on the bus stop bench outside.

  “What were you guys doing outside?” I ask.

  “Had to get some air. It’s hot as hell in here,” Garcia answers.

  “It’s hotter outside, isn’t it?” I ask before I realize that they were probably outside for something other than air.

  “I think it’s pretty steamy in both places,” Kimber answers suggestively. She takes a long drink from her bottle of water and settles into the booth against Garcia.

  “You two seem very cozy,” I say, watching her snuggle under his arm like they’ve known each other forever.

  “Looks who’s talking.” Kimber laughs. Yeah, I guess she’s right. This has been the best vacation I’ve ever been on, and it wasn’t really even supposed to be a real vacation. I’m in the wedding party. I’ve been given jobs to do and responsibilities, and come to think of it, I haven’t thought about any of them since I met Major.

  “We have to go for a dress fitting tomorrow, don’t we?” I ask Kimber when I start ticking off my list of things to do this week in my head.

  “Yeah, at ten thirty, then lunch and golf. Belle and Mattie have us scheduled to do something every minute this week. I’m not going to make it to half of those things. This girl’s gonna nap,” Kimber says. Garcia places his hand on her bump, and I almost spit out my drink. He’s pretty damn comfortable with Kimber’s pregnancy, and she doesn’t seem to mind at all.

  “You have to take care of yourself. Overdoing it isn’t good for you or the baby,” Garcia says. An ice cube from my Margarita slides down my throat. I lean forward and cough and sputter, but it’s defiantly going down the wrong way and it hurts.

  “Shit, Violet, you okay?” Major says, pounding me on the back. I work to catch my breath, and when I have it under control, I apologize.

  “Sorry, damn ice cubes are just the right size to choke on.”

  The Brittney Spears song being sung by two very drunk girls dressed like Japanese anime characters wraps up, and the DJ asks for the crowd’s attention.

  “As you all know, our Karaoke night is also a contest, and we have a winner!” he yells so loudly I think something popped inside my head. I cringe, and Major pulls me close, protecting one ear with his chest and holding his hand over the other. He’s a very attentive man. He notices everything going on around him and he reads me well. I too make note of things happening around me. I love to pe
ople watch. Sometimes, I even think up little stories in my head to go along with what I’m seeing.

  Since I can’t hear very well all cocooned between Major’s chest and hand, I watch the two anime girls dressed in knee socks and baby doll skirts with Hello Kitty shirts. They’re falling all over each other giggling, trying to sing Hit Me Baby One More Time as they make their way back to their table. They look so innocent and sweet. It would be cool if they were undercover cops looking for that creep that Major threatened last night. He would approach them on the sidewalk at closing time and one would pull out some crazy martial arts moves while the other called for backup. Or even better yet, one would pull out a samurai sword and wave it around, expertly cutting off snippets of his hair while the other waited to cuff him.

  I’m lost in my vivid imagination when Major releases my ear and I hear the crowd clapping and chanting. “Don’t phunk with my love, don’t phunk with my love.”

  “I guess we won,” he says, and I hear the DJ calling us up on stage.

  “Come on, let’s go. It’s time for our fifteen seconds of fame,” he says, pulling me up with him. I can’t believe we won a contest singing a song I pulled out of my ass because I was pissed at him.

  There are people on all sides of us as we make our way to the tiny stage. Major has his hand sprawled over the small of my back, guiding me when I feel a tremble. Everyone stops in his or her tracks and the whooping dulls to a murmur. It happens again, harder this time, vibrating the whole building. I can hear glasses rattling and tables and chairs rumbling on the floor. We sway back and forth, gently at first and then with more force as the quake picks up force. I’ve been through a few earthquakes in my life here in California, but none as strong as this one.

  Major’s arm slides around my waist. He’s moving us into the area where the bar and the restaurant join in the foyer. Garcia’s already here with Kimber, and I catch the top of my mother’s head across the foyer. At least, I’m pretty sure it’s her head. Major has me turned to face the frame of the door, my palms against the wall and his body behind mine with his arms crossed over my head to protect me from falling debris if there happens to be any.