“It is,” Lindsey agreed. “The strong silent type is only afraid of one thing. Their own feelings. You need to loosen him up. Alcohol. Sex. Flirtation. Do you need more options?”
I blinked. “You want me to try to intoxicate, sleep with, or flirt with the guy while I’m supposed to be watching his son?”
“Yeah. It looks like you’re working real hard right now,” Lindsey said. She mockingly threw her arms behind her head and pretended to kick back and relax on the bench.
I grinned. “The kids get along too well. I can’t help it. They don’t even want me to play with them. And you know, Griff’s teacher said he has been more behaved lately. Not perfect, but they haven’t suspended him again, which is something.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Lindsey said. “Look. I guarantee this guy is going to try to get you on your own again. He’s fighting his feelings right now, but it’s only a matter of time before he has a moment of weakness. And that is when you strike.” She made a clawing gesture at the screen.
“Yeah, well, the other problem is I’m not sure I want to strike.” All I had to do was blink and I could see the green text on a computer screen in my head. Available.
Perceptive as always, Lindsey worked her lips to the side in thought. “You’re thinking about the Florida thing?”
“The unit’s available.”
Both Luca and Lindsey’s eyebrows went up. After the accident, I’d very un-prettily spilled just about every detail of my life, dreams, and fears to Lindsey and Luca. There was nothing they didn’t know.
“That’s good?” Lindsey asked carefully.
“It would be a year from now. Maybe once I’ve had time to earn all this money Jack is going to pay me and could invest it in the restaurant. But if I waited that long, someone else would take the place.”
“If you don’t, you won’t have money to do it. So what’s the dilemma?”
I shook my head. “There’s not one.” I said the words, hoping they’d solidify into truth if I didn’t stop to question them. “I’m going to find a way to make Florida happen. Nothing else can come before that.”
“Can I say it?” Luca asked. He squeezed his hands together, pleading.
I rolled my eyes because I had a bad feeling I knew what he was going to say. “Fine.”
“Both of you can come plenty of times before Florida if you get a move on.”
Lindsey side-eyed him but was smirking. “Not if Noles won’t hike up her she-balls and go spit some game.”
“Spit game? When have I ever had game to spit?”
“Good question. But this guy seems to have the hots for you, so maybe something is wrong with his judgment. Take advantage before he fixes his flawed assessment of you.”
“Wonderful. As always, I’ve found it absolutely no help to ask you two for advice.”
“Oh, we’re not here to be helpful,” Luca said. “We’re the biggest fans of the ‘Nola gets herself into unlikely mess after unlikely mess show.’ Pretending to give you advice is just how we make sure you keep spilling the juicy details to us.”
I gave them both the middle finger and a smile to let them know I didn’t mean it, then hung up on the call.
One thing was for sure, the part of my brain in charge of writing up the script for my dreams at night wasn’t conflicted. That little composer upstairs had whipped up a true masterpiece last night.
I rolled to the side, hugging a pillow to my chest as I replayed the highlights. I could still feel my illusory experience of Jack’s fingertips against my scalp—of my nose buried in the crook of his neck and my fingertips digging into his broad back. The best part? Dream me hadn’t been conflicted. She’d just enjoyed the ride—euphemism intended.
Why couldn’t I just live in my dreams, anyway? Reality was so messy.
13
Jack
I handed off my car to the valet outside my place and stopped in the lobby to take a call. It was Damon. I considered ignoring it because part of me just wanted to go upstairs and see Ben.
Part of you also wants to see those red braids and the way the dress she’d been wearing this morning hinted at a perfect ass and showed off her thighs.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Focus. It wasn’t usually this hard for me to control my impulses, and I was starting to wonder if there was a world where I could just have one taste of Nola then set things back to normal.
The phone vibrated again. I finally put it to my ear. “Yeah?”
“Good news,” Damon said about as enthusiastically as one might announce that the walls were painted gray. “I managed to play your little stunt against Bobby and convince him a fatter check would keep you around.” Bobby was my team’s general manager, and gateway through which all financial decisions regarding players passed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you nearly quitting on the season just earned us both some extra money. Congratulations.”
“Oh, yeah. Good work.” I knew Damon cared about that kind of shit, but it never really registered for me. I was good at what I did. Really good. He might’ve thought the world would end if I took a year away from the game or even two. I knew as long as I could throw the stitches off a baseball, it wouldn’t matter. I could walk onto any team in the country’s practice and throw a screamer in front of their radar gun. That was all it would take to bring everything roaring back.
It was part of the reason I wasn’t about to let something like money come between me and Ben. He was the most important thing. Ben was the thing that was time sensitive. Precious. The one thing in my life that couldn’t be repaired if it broke. And ever since Ally left, he was all I had, and I was all he had.
That was the fucking team worth sacrificing everything for if I had to. Not some baseball club.
“How’s it coming with the nanny, by the way?” Damon asked, stirring me from my thoughts.
I looked toward the elevator. “She’s keeping Ben alive.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Jack. I know how overprotective you are. You’ve probably got binders written up on her by now. Besides, I saw the way you two were at dinner. I’ve seen this story before, and—”
“I’ll stop you there, because you haven’t. Yes, I’m keeping a close eye on her. Ben is everything to me. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he’s safe and happy. If you’re trying to imply there’s something personal between Nola and I, your judgment is off.”
Damon laughed softly. “That’s one thing you’ll learn about me, Jack. I built what I built because my judgment is rarely off. But it’s not my business to tell you what you already know. I’ll let you get back to it. Oh, and make sure you give the babysitter a nice tip when you get back home.”
He hung up the phone. I clenched my teeth, glaring at nothing in particular.
I was in a foul mood when I stepped inside my apartment, but Ben softened it by rushing up to show me his sketchbook. It was hard to stay pissed when I saw how excited he was for me to see what he’d worked on for the day.
I was flipping through his book, complimenting his pictures when I realized I hadn’t seen Griff or Nola. “Where is everyone?”
Ben pointed toward the living room. “Fell asleep.”
I scooped Ben up, hoping I’d draw a laugh from him but only getting his stoic, serious little expression as he let me carry him along like an artistically inclined suitcase.
I found Griff passed out with his arms and legs spread like a bomb had gone off and he’d crash landed on the rug. His belly was rising and falling, so he didn’t appear to be dead, which was a plus.
Nola was on the couch with her arms wrapped tight around one of my pillows. Her mouth was squished up to the side and a spot of drool glistened on her lips. While I was staring at her in disbelief, her small body shook with a monster of a snore that seemed to claw itself from some unseen depths in her chest.
I flinched back, then set Ben down.
“She keeps making that noise,” he said. “Is she oka
y?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to find the willpower to be irritated with her for falling asleep on the job. I couldn’t really manage it, though. I knew when I was watching Ben, he was more than capable of waking me from a nap or coming to get me if he wanted help. I also knew she hadn’t quit her job at the restaurant yet, even though she was trying to hide that from me. I imagined she was hardly getting any sleep as it was.
I gave the couch a little kick, then had to smile when it drew the loudest snore yet from Nola. She jerked upright, as if the sound of her own snoring had frightened her. When she sat up, one of her braids stood out from the side of her head from where it had been folded underneath her.
She blinked a few times, then covered her breasts and yelped.
I frowned. She was fully clothed, which she seemed to realize as she let her hands down.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry Mr. Kerrigan.”
Mr. Kerrigan? When had she started calling me that? “You’re allowed to take naps. It’s fine.”
“No. I shouldn’t be—” she rubbed her eyes vigorously, then seemed to be searching for something as she looked around the couch. She stopped next to Griff. She poked him with her toe, which made him let out a bite sized version of the monstrous snores she’d been unleashing a few seconds ago. She let out a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry. They play so well together I’m honestly useless most of the time. I was listening to them play and I must’ve dozed off.”
“Really, it’s fine. But you should get him home. He looks beat.”
“Yeah.”
“Dad,” Ben said, tugging my shirt. “I really wanted Griff to sleep over tonight. Can he?”
A sleepover? I’d brought the idea up to Ben before and he’d always completely shut it down. I shrugged, even though I was fist-pumping on the inside for my little guy to show a sign that he was stepping outside his box. “Sure, if Nola is okay with it.”
Nola winced. “Griff is pretty attached to my hip. If he woke up and I was gone, he’d freak.”
“You can sleep here,” Ben said. “Daddy won’t mind.”
Even the thought of Nola sprawled out on my couch all night made my dick twitch traitorously. Why hadn’t I thought before I spoke? Obviously, she wasn’t going to leave Griff here with me alone. “Yeah,” I said, feeling a little strained. “You can stay here with him. If that’s what you want.”
“You’re sure?” Nola asked.
“Yeah, but you’ll sleep in my bed. I’ll use the couch.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
“I insist.”
Nola chewed her lip, looking toward Griff, who was still face-down like a casualty of war. When she looked back up and her deep blue eyes met mine, a spike of excitement ran through me.
Dirty, ill-advised, stupid excitement.
14
Nola
Jack Kerrigan looked like a highly tuned, confusingly fit mountain man with tattoos. Except the closer you got, the more you saw hints that something else might be hiding beneath the beard and the rugged exterior.
Those were the thoughts running through my head as I stood by his bed and watched him make sure it was fitted with fresh sheets and pillows.
“I really don’t mind helping.”
Jack waved me off with his hand, eyes fixed on the sheets. He walked to the other side of the bed and tugged a little, making sure it was perfect. On his way back to my side of the bed, he stubbed his toe on the leg of the bed. Jack cursed under his breath, stumbled, but caught himself.
I put my hand over my mouth, hiding my smile. Little by little, I’d seen that Jack was absolutely a klutz. He also had a habit of quietly looking to see if I’d noticed after he’d whack his knee on a coffee table, spill something on his shirt, or bang his head on a cabinet door. As odd as it was to combine the word “adorable” and the guy who seemed like the epitome of manly capability, there it was. It was adorable how much he cared about his son. It was adorable that he was so concerned with making sure the bed was made just right. And it was adorable that he was somehow a professional athlete who couldn’t go a full day without at least stubbing his toe or adding another bruise to the collection.
It felt like a chink in the armor he wore, even if I wasn’t sure it was wise for me to search for ways inside his armor. No. I needed to stay right where I was. Outside his armor. Outside his bed.
Because all those things were reasons to let Florida slip by. Reasons I didn’t need to have floating around in my brain.
Jack gave a heave and tossed the heavy gray comforter over his bed. He repeated his obsessive back and forth process of tugging at the corners and moving around the bed until it was perfect.
“I’m going to feel bad climbing in there and messing up your artwork,” I said.
Jack looked up, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, it’s comfier when it starts out right.”
“Is that so?” I thought to the way I climbed into an unmade bed almost every night of my life and wondered if I’d been doing it wrong.
Jack shrugged. He bent down and smoothed the wrinkles from the comforter with his palms, then backed away and gave it one final look over. “Alright. I’ve got to go set up my spot on the couch.” He tried to move past me, and before I could think about it, I had put my hand on his arm.
“Hey,” I said. I swallowed hard when I saw how close we were standing with his body close enough to bathe me in his heat. “You’re sure about the couch?”
“I’m sure, Nola.”
Nola. Why did the way he said my name make my knees want to spontaneously combust? I blinked a few times, then nodded. “And you’re sure about me staying here?”
“If you promise not to touch me like this anymore, I’ll be more sure.”
I looked at where my fingertips were still on his hard, tanned skin. I felt how my breasts were practically sandwiching his shoulder. And when I met his eyes, I saw it wasn’t irritation or revulsion that drove his words. It was worry.
Why would he be worried?
Automatically, I took a jerky step back from him. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better at—well, keeping my hands off you. Mr. Kerrigan,” I added to make things sound more professional.
Jack gave me a look I couldn’t read, then nodded curtly before practically storming out of the room.
I pressed my palms against my forehead and grunted. God. I couldn’t believe how awkward I’d just made that. I paced in a small circle, replaying the last few seconds, as though maybe there was some insight into what was going on inside that beautiful head of his lurking in plain sight.
I studied my memory of the expressions he’d worn. Worry that I was touching him. And… something when I’d said I would try to stop. Regret? Anger?
I sighed, trying to let the curiosity burning in me die down. Instead, I imagined him out in the living room meticulously trying to get his blankets just right on the couch.
I turned to face the bed and felt a smile creep across my face. It was probably the neatest, most professionally made bed I’d ever seen.
Out of absolutely nowhere, I felt tears start welling in my eyes. What the hell? I was searching my stupid brain to figure out why a nicely made bed would cause me to tear up and hadn’t quite pinpointed it when Jack came back in the room.
“Forgot my pillow. Did you—Oh,” he said, moving beside me.
I tried to wipe at my eyes and turn my back, but he could already see I was crying. God. Why was I crying? What the hell was wrong with me?
“What’s wrong?” Jack put his hands on my shoulders, gently urging me to sit on the edge of the bed.
I shook my head, seeking some explanation that wouldn’t make me sound like a freaking lunatic. “Hormones,” I said, sniffling. I made myself smile. “Shark week. You know.”
“Shark week?”
I put my hand over my head like a fin. “Blood in the water?”
“Oh,” he said, seeming to relax. Apparently, my bogus explanation worked, because all the anxiety
in his face seemed to melt away. “Do you… need anything? A hot towel?” he hesitated. “Chocolate?”
I grinned. “No,” I said, letting him lift my legs up and position me on my pillow like I was a child. He lifted the blanket up to my stomach, then stepped back. For a moment, I felt like I was part of his little work of art. The final touch.
He seemed to be thinking something too, because the distant look on his face was suddenly replaced with a furrowed brow and his usual stern expression.
“You’re sure?”
“I think this perfectly made bed is probably the sweetest thing anyone has given me in a really long time. About three years, actually.” And there it was. I’d been looking at the bed he made for me and thinking about them. About how the last time someone had made my bed it had been my parents. And in one crushing moment I’d understood how alone I’d been since they were gone in an entirely new way.
His frown deepened. “I think chocolate would help.”
I smiled. “Am I supposed to be dainty and ladylike by saying ‘no’ here?”
“I’ll be right back,” he said. The room was too dark to know if he was smiling, but I had a hunch.
15
Jack
I leaned against the headboard of my bed, trying to keep a respectable distance between Nola and I.
I was fully clothed.
We were just sitting.
Yes, it was a bed, but she’d had some sort of emotional breakdown and she needed chocolate. I was being helpful, not predatory.
Except it felt like I needed to keep convincing myself my motivations were pure. Especially when I saw her wearing one of my dress shirts like we’d just finished fucking and her clothes were scattered all over the apartment.
No. Not even a hypothetical situation you should be imagining right now, asshole.
She had the sleeves pushed up and the hem of the shirt was just covering the top of her legs as she sat cross legged. I found myself wondering if she was only wearing panties beneath it. Then I remembered the dress I’d enjoyed seeing her in so much. Unless she’d found something in my closet to wear beneath the shirt, I wasn’t sure what else could be under there except thin panties.
My (Mostly) Temporary Nanny: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy Page 5