Cherry Poppins
Olivia T. Turner
Contents
Copyright
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About
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Epilogue
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Copyright© 2019 by Olivia T. Turner.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including emailing, photocopying, printing, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. For permission requests, email [email protected]
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, companies, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Contains explicit love scenes and adult language.
18+
www.OliviaTTurner.com
Edited by Karen Collins Editing
Cover Design by Olivia T. Turner
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About
Once the children are in bed, Mr. Steele wants me to take care of him.
Noah Steele:
The position was for a daytime nanny for my twin nephews.
But when Avery appeared at my door, all of that changed.
The innocence was beaming off her and engulfing her like a glowing cloud.
It grabbed a hold of my heart and twisted until I was wincing.
Yeah, I wasn’t about to let this little cherry get away from me.
The position quickly changed to a live-in nanny and it started immediately.
Because the master of the house needs his playtime too.
And this little cherry is ripe for playing with.
Do you love your Over-The-Top men with a touch of gray in their hair and a whole lot of possessiveness in their touch? Then you’ll love Noah Steele. This hot OTT billionaire is going to treat his young nanny right! And you get to watch!
Safe, no cheating, and a sweet HEA that will have you smiling (and blushing). Enjoy!
For Arlo,
In terms of boyfriends, you were like the last season of Game of Thrones.
Too much suffering, profoundly disappointing, and the climax came way too fast.
#NotTheBesteros
#YouKnowNothingArlo #SirArloOfSmallPenislandia
Chapter One
Avery
It’s almost midnight in New York City and I’m hungry, scared, tired, alone, and desperate.
Oh, and did I mention it’s raining?
And not the nice gentle warm rain where you don’t mind going out without an umbrella. It’s the ugly kind. The cold pouring kind that drenches your socks. Your underwear. Your everything.
My umbrella broke, but I’m still holding it up for some unknown reason even though I’m as wet as a sewer rat.
I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to sleep.
There’s a homeless shelter somewhere around here. I have the phone number, so I can call for directions… if only I had a phone.
My stomach growls, but I just keep on walking, ignoring the hollow feeling inside. That feeling and me are old friends.
A man hurries down the sidewalk with a functioning umbrella over his eyes and smashes his shoulder into me as he passes.
I turn, expecting an apology, but he keeps on going without even turning around.
Why would he?
I’m just worthless in his eyes. Another street kid who fucked up their life.
My life is fucked up, but it’s not my fault.
I’ve been in this city for two years, but I’ve only been on the street for about 14 hours.
It was my mother’s idea to bring us here. She always had dreams of becoming a Broadway star, but the furthest she got was the Broadway Starbucks. Minimum wage in any city is hard, but in Manhattan, it’s impossible. All of our money went to the insane rent of our one bedroom apartment.
I had to drop out of school in my final year to get a job in a tanning salon. It didn’t pay well, but we needed everything we could get.
We were barely treading water when my mother got sick. It was quick. Too quick.
The cancer ate through her body. It took the stomach that I was born in. The arms that cradled me when I was upset. The lips that kissed my forehead before bed. The voice that sang me show tunes. The smile that seemed to make everything all better.
It took my mom. And it left me in a dangerous position.
The bills piled up, and the money to pay them dwindled.
It wasn’t long before I came home from work and my meager belongings were in the hallway and the door had a shiny new lock on it.
I had nowhere to bring my stuff, so I just packed what I could in my backpack and left.
For two months I slept in the tanning salon. But this morning the owner found out.
And he fired me.
Now, I’m truly desperate.
I have sixty-four dollars in my pocket and everything I own is soaked through with the cold spring rain.
My chilled bones are rattling in my body with every fearful step I take. My eyes dart around to every shadow, every person that hurries by, every flicker of light or movement.
My heart is racing. I can’t do this. I can’t live on the street.
Stop it, Avery.
Breaking down right now won’t do a lick of good.
I have to keep moving. Keep fighting.
Get to the homeless shelter. One thing at a time.
I look around the dark street, but I don’t know where I am. Million dollar Brownstones line the street like dominoes. They’re gorgeous. I’d give anything to live in one. Hell, I’d give anything to sleep on the stoop.
One catches my eye. The light is on inside, casting a warm inviting glow.
I just need to make a phone call.
The homeless shelter’s card is in my pocket. I’ll call and ask for directions.
My heart is hammering against my chilled ribs as I slowly walk up the steps. I’m holding the broken umbrella over my head, even though I’m soaked.
This is a bad idea.
They probably won’t answer. They’ll probably swear at me and call the cops.
I take a deep breath and straighten my back. What choice do I have?
The beautiful wooden door is gorgeous with the intricate carvings and I feel like I shouldn’t be here as I knock my knuckles against it.
My body starts to shake with nerves when I hear footsteps on the other side of the door. Everything about this place is so large and imposing.
What was I thinking?
I take a step back to flee. To escape it all. The harsh looks and harsh words that I know are coming. The judgment. They think they’re above me. They are. I’m nothing. I’m homeless. Worthless.
I add nothing to the city. I’m just an irritation.
A rat in the subway. A tumor clinging onto an organ.
That’s the worst thing about being homeless. It’s not the loss of every physical thing you own.
I
t’s the loss of your dignity.
I turn and hurry down the steps as the door opens. I want to keep the last shred of dignity that I have.
“Hey!” a deep booming voice barks.
My feet stop moving and I freeze halfway down the stairs.
I turn around and swallow hard when I see the most beautiful man standing in the doorway.
He’s gorgeous.
I mean, fucking gorgeous.
He looks older—somewhere in his forties—but every one of those years that passed suits him. Every year was a brush stroke that was leading to perfection. He has salt and pepper hair and a matching salt and pepper beard. His blue eyes seem to be glowing from within as he watches me.
God, how pathetic do I look? I’ve been in the cold rain for hours now.
I must look like I just crawled out of a sewer.
His deep icy gaze holds me in place. My heart is beating so fast. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
His massive body takes up most of the doorway. I probably wouldn’t come up to his chin. He could crush me in those big hands and he looks like he might want to as he stares me down.
But still, I can’t move. I’m stunned by his beauty.
He’s wearing a dark blue sweater that hugs his big round shoulders and is pulled tight across his wide chest. It looks expensive. Cashmere maybe? Or one of those other fabrics that I’ll never be able to afford. Whatever it is, it looks like it was made for him.
My eyes roam down his large frame and I suddenly start to feel a bit warmer as I take him all in. He’s wearing gray dress pants and isn’t wearing anything on his feet.
“What do you want?”
His eyes are locked on me, but there’s a warmness in them despite the intensity of his stare.
“I’m sorry to disturb you.” God, my voice sounds so small and pathetic next to his. “I just need to use a phone. Someone stole mine.”
He looks at me for a long moment and those bright blue eyes make my body react in a strong way. They flood me with warmth and suddenly my bones aren’t chattering even though the cold rain is still pouring down on my head.
To my surprise, he steps to the side and invites me in. The warm glow radiating from the house is so different from the cold darkness of the scary street. It’s warm and inviting. My body tingles as I walk up the steps.
He never takes his eyes off me as I close my broken umbrella and shake the water off.
“I don’t want to get your floor all wet,” I say, looking up at him as I hesitate outside the door. God, he’s breathing so heavily.
His body is all tight like he’s straining to hold himself together.
“I don’t mind you wet. At all.”
I swallow hard and step inside. The air is so dry. It’s a weird thing to notice, but after being in the pouring rain for about eight hours, it’s the first thing that hits me.
“Let me take your coat,” he says as he steps up to me. My breath quickens as he helps me out of it.
I was right. I barely come up to his chin.
He sucks in a breath when he sees how wet I am underneath my coat. My shirt is soaked through.
“It’s a local call,” I say, feeling my voice start to race. “I should only be a minute. I got stuck in the rain.”
His blue eyes narrow on my mouth and the sight of his jaw tightening as he watches my lips move has me feeling very self-conscious.
I drop my eyes to the gorgeous hardwood floor and cringe when I see how wet I’m getting it.
“Are you calling your boyfriend?”
My eyes dart back up to his and I nearly gasp when I see the intensity in them. Is that… jealousy?
Don’t be stupid, Avery.
It can’t be. This beautiful rich man would never be jealous over me.
But…
His arms are flexed. His breathing is hard and angry. The intensity seems to be growing with every second that I make him wait for the answer.
The look turns from jealousy to almost… territorial.
It only softens when I answer him. “No. I don’t have a boyfriend. I just need to set up a place to stay for the night.”
He takes a deep breath and it looks like he’s getting flooded with relief. The energy that’s emanating from this man is intense and powerful. It flows out and surrounds me, coats me, pulls me in as he stares me down.
“I’ll get the phone.”
He leaves without another word and I immediately start looking around the gorgeous place. I glance into the open closet and see something that takes me by surprise. A bunch of colorful children’s shoes piled up next to his. I can’t help but notice that there aren’t any women’s shoes inside.
I look down the hallway at the photos on the wall. In one he’s standing next to Elon Musk. Angela Merkel in another. He’s next to Tom Brady in the next one. They’re standing on a football field both holding up the Super Bowl trophy with smiles on their faces. He’s not a football player though. He’s wearing a suit.
Who is this guy?
His wallet is on the table in the foyer and I quickly open it and look at his license. I smile at his picture before I drag my eyes to his name. Noah Steele. Forty-two years old.
There is a thick stack of bills in his wallet, but I don’t touch any of that. I just wanted his name to whisper when I’m trying to sleep tonight.
When I put the wallet back, something else catches my eye. A notebook.
Nanny Position is written on the top of the page with a bunch of names and numbers scribbled down below it. Most of them are crossed out except for the name on the bottom.
Poppy White.
He returns with the phone before I have a chance to convince myself that this is a bad idea.
“Thank you, Mr. Steele.”
He jerks his head back in surprise at the mention of his name.
“I’m Poppy White,” I say, sticking my hand out. “I’m here for the nanny position.”
He looks at my outstretched hand in shock. “You are?”
I give a nervous nod. “Yup!” I say with a high-pitched voice.
He swallows my hand with his and grins.
“You’re hired.”
Chapter Two
Noah
I don’t want to let her go.
She clears her throat nervously as I hold her hand. This little cherry is not going to get away from me.
Her hand is so small that I swallow it completely. Everything about her is tiny. I could just pick her up and bring her to my bedroom and she wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing.
Knowing that brings a shiver racing down my spine.
She’s going to be the nanny of the twins. The live-in nanny.
The agency provided me with a list of suitable candidates, but I didn’t know they were in the business of supplying goddesses.
And that’s what she is.
Pure heavenly. She’s too beautiful to be of this earth.
The innocence beams off her and engulfs her like a glowing cloud. It grabs a hold of my heart and twists it until I’m wincing.
She gently pulls her hand back and I reluctantly let it go. My heart is pounding in my chest like a jackhammer as my body craves another touch.
All I can do is stare in stunned silence. The poor girl is soaked, but she’s still mesmerizing. Her wet brown hair is flattened against her head and cheeks, but it just makes her sexy brown eyes pop out even more. Her clothes are plastered to her body like they don’t want to give that sweet skin even an inch of breathing room. I don’t blame them at all.
The position wasn’t for a live-in nanny, but after one look at Poppy, that’s fucking changed. She’s living here.
I want her here where I can keep an eye on her. Where I can watch her and know where she is at all times. I’ve never wanted anything so badly in all my life.
Fuck… It’s already happening.
The obsession is growing inside me like a monster. She hasn’t even taken her shoes off and I’m already plotting ways to keep
her here as one emotional extreme after another rolls over me like ocean waves.
I feel like I’m drowning and she’s the only thing that can give me breath.
“So, when would you like me to start? As your… nanny?”
Her voice is soft and timid like a little bunny. It awakens the protectiveness in me. She’s so pure and innocent. How can I let her out into this big bad world again? I want to keep her by my side where she’s safe.
“Immediately. I want you to start now.”
“Okay,” she says with a nervous laugh. “Are the kids awake?”
She looks around me into the hall.
The twins, Liam and Lucas are sleeping, and I’m glad they are. Their nanny is not just here to take care of them. I have needs too.
“They’re sleeping now. Come in.”
I step to the side and watch her as she nervously walks into my house. Her clothes are worn through and her shirt is a size too big. There’s a sewn patch on her old pants and the bottom is all frayed and used up.
She’s poor. It’s obvious by her rundown clothes and scuffed up shoes. A lace is broken and instead of replacing it, she tied it back together with a knot.
I’m noting down her size as she walks down the hallway. She’ll have a brand new wardrobe tomorrow. One that is worthy of her perfect body.
“So, how many kids do you have?” she asks as we enter the living room. The place cost me a fortune and I had set it up with the nicest furniture and artwork I could find. Too bad the twins’ toys everywhere are making it look a little less slick. I never minded until now.
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