My (Mostly) Temporary Nanny: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy

by Penelope Bloom

  Ally’s sweet smile finally faltered—if only slightly. “He’s sleeping with you, isn’t he?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She snapped the checkbook shut and shoved it in her purse. “Don’t bother denying it, sweetie. I know how he is. But let me give you a piece of advice. Jack doesn’t let anybody have his heart. All he has ever cared about is that kid. Everything else to him is just background noise.”

  That kid? I tried my best impression of her sweet smile from earlier. “Thanks for the advice.”

  The corners of Ally’s mouth turned down as she stood up and looked at me. “You’re going to wish you took my money when you had the chance.”

  “Really nice to meet you,” I said dryly as I put my earbud back in. Fittingly, the song had changed to C-Lo Green’s Fuck You. The lyrics weren’t a perfect fit, but I was absolutely feeling the title as I watched Ally and her personally trained, tight ass walk away.

  That was when I noticed Griff was shouting encouragement as Ben tried to do a push up with three little rocks on his back. With a sigh, I got up and went to the boys.

  “Please tell me he’s not trying to torture you, Ben.”

  Ben grunted with effort, his spindly arms shaking as he finally straightened them and then collapsed, letting the little rocks patter to the mulch beside him. “He’s training me.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  Griff got a mysterious look in his eyes. Both boys refused to explain what Ben apparently needed to train for, so I gave up and went back to my bench. I watched Ben spasm beneath a monkey bar as he tried to do a pull up. Next, Griff chased him up a hill while trying to whack the back of his legs with a leafy branch when he went too slowly. And the apparent training ended with both spitting on worms “to help stop them from drying out so they can make it off the sidewalk to the grass.”

  All in all, it was actually what had become a relatively typical day for me. Including the part where I thought about Jack Kerrigan roughly five times per minute. His rare smiles. His pitcher’s forearms and the way the tanned skin there flexed and moved as he performed benign tasks like untying his shoes when he got home from practice or a game.

  I glanced at my phone and considered texting Jack. He’d given me his number for emergencies, and so far, neither of us had exchanged a single message.

  I chewed my lip and typed up the text before I could chicken out. I sent “I’ve got some news to share. Might be best in person.”

  I stuffed the phone in my pocket and wondered why I’d even bothered sending the text. After all, if I needed to tell him in person, why not just wait until he came home tonight?

  Because you got a little thrill from texting him, dork.

  I decided my inner voice was correct, but that didn’t help me feel any less irritated about it.

  21

  Jack

  I stared at Nola’s text as I sat in my car. I’d re-read it about thirty times and confirmed that yes, it said exactly what I thought it said.

  Nola (5:41 p.m.): I’ve got some nudes to share. Might be best in person.

  Well, one thing was certain. Her message had the attention of my traitorous cock, which was already painfully swollen. I shifted in the seat and looked at the message again. What had come over her?

  It felt like I was only hanging on to my resolution to do what was best for Ben by the thinnest of threads at this point. I swore, if I came home to find the kids sleeping and Nola standing naked in the doorway, I was going to break.

  I considered texting her back to make sure she’d messaged the right person, but that only opened an even more dangerous door: jealousy. After all, how did I know Nola wasn’t quietly seeing some other guy? I had no fucking idea what she did with her spare time, and every day, that fact felt more unacceptable than the last.

  I couldn’t let myself have her, but I could not let someone else have her, either.

  It was idiotic and knowing so did nothing to assuage the pounding fury I felt at the idea of her with some other asshole.

  Images of someone else’s hand running through her red hair haunted me as I drove home. I pictured her lips against someone else’s. Someone else’s hand squeezing her pale breasts.

  And that was the beginning of a great mental restructuring.

  Little by little, I moved things I’d considered non-negotiable into the “possibly negotiable” pile. I allowed that I would just as quickly lose Ben his nanny if she threw herself—and her apparent live nudes—at me and I refused her. Wouldn’t the only responsible thing to do in that case be to accept her advances?

  Yes.

  The only way I could save my son was to look at Nola’s naked body. No. It was more than that. I needed to thoroughly enjoy the sight of it. And I couldn’t stop there. I needed to prove to her I enjoyed the sight of it by doing the next natural thing. I’d need to carry her over my shoulder to my bed and fuck her the way she deserved to be fucked.

  It was that simple, wasn’t it? The only way I could do the right thing was to rush home and sleep with my nanny so vigorously that it left no doubt I was having the night of my life.

  My hands squeezed the steering wheel and my foot pressed harder on the pedal. I’d never been a man to turn away from duty before. Was I really going to start now, when it called the most strongly?

  I’ve got some nudes to share. Might be best in person.

  A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. She was damn right. In person was going to be best. It was going to be so damn good it would burn.

  22

  Nola

  Ben and Griff were making little figures out of clay quietly at the craft table when the front door burst open. I heard heavy footsteps and got up sharply. “Kids, stay there,” I whispered.

  I grabbed a skillet from the kitchen and held it like a baseball bat as I crept around the corner toward the entrance to Jack’s apartment.

  I saw Jack standing there in a suit and tie that was halfway undone. His hair was a mess and his forehead was beaded with sweat. His eyes were a little wild, too.

  “Jack?” I asked, lowering the skillet as I approach. “Is everything okay?”

  His eyes roamed me like he was looking for something. He spoke, and his voice was such a low rumble that I barely heard it. “Your text.”

  I frowned at him. “Oh, God. Sorry, I didn’t realize it would freak you out that much. I mean, yeah. We could get into it right now but the kids… Should I tell them they can have a sleepover? That way we can have some privacy once they’re down.”

  Jack glanced past me. “Absolutely. Privacy.”

  I tilted my head. “You’re sure nothing is wrong? You look kind of… agitated.”

  He put his hand on my arm, which was new. The simple touch sent little flashbulbs of white through my vision and made me feel electrically charged. “I did a lot of thinking. And yeah. I’m done waiting.”

  “Okay,” I said, laughing a little as we walked into the kitchen. “I think maybe you’re building this up a little more than it deserves.”

  Jack gave me an oddly lingering look. “I doubt that very much.”

  For the first time, I started to feel like I wasn’t quite on the same page as him. I dismissed the thought and helped the kids get to bed. We hadn’t let the boys have a sleepover since the last incident that ended with Jack tackling a couch so hard it got him erect. Griff and Ben started running excited loops around the bedroom hallway when I told them what was happening.

  I waited on the couch with my phone in my hand while Jack lingered awkwardly in the kitchen. I kept feeling like he was watching me but dismissed the idea because any time I looked his way he was doing something else.

  “Okay,” I said, about half an hour later. “I think the boys are down.”

  Jack walked to the loveseat directly across from me and sat his ankle on his knee. With an elbow resting on the armrest, he placed his index finger across his lips and waited, watching me like some sort of art connoisseur about to pass judgment.


  I cleared my throat. “You’re absolutely sure everything is okay?”

  “Why don’t you start with that blouse. It looks a little too tight.” His voice was a low, gruff rasp.

  I widened my eyes and stared at the floor in disbelief. Then I tugged on my collar a little, confirming I wasn’t losing my mind. The blouse wasn’t even close to revealing, so I had no idea what could be upsetting him about it. “Okay. Something’s up your butt. Why don’t you just come out and say it?”

  “Uh,” Jack looked legitimately confused. “I’m not really into that sort of thing.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “It’s not my problem if you aren’t into the style of my blouse.”

  “No,” he fumbled for something in his pocket. He tapped a few times on his phone, then shook his head. “Your text. Did I misread it?”

  I frowned. “What does my blouse have to do with—” I was already pulling out my phone to re-read the text.

  I have some nudes to share. Might be best in person.

  Jack’s eyes met mine, and in that moment, we both knew.

  I felt my face go so red I thought my hair might start curling up at the edges and smoking from the heat on my cheeks. “Autocorrect,” I whispered.

  Jack slid both palms down his face, looking like he’d suddenly just felt a few weeks’ worth of exhaustion land on his back. “It appears there has been a misunderstanding.”

  “Wait,” I said, feeling the first hint of a smile on my face. “You weren’t mad when you got here. You were excited.”

  “It’s not really possible for anyone to know what another person feels or thinks.”

  I laughed. Jack looked like he wanted to die, and it was adorable. The big, bearded, muscle-clad mountain of a man sitting across from me was embarrassed.

  “I mean,” I said, getting up and making a mockingly seductive face as I peeled off one of my pink socks. I twirled it suggestively over my shoulder a few times. “If you wanted to see a little skin, all you had to do was ask.” I slingshotted the sock toward him. It soundlessly ricocheted off his forehead. Jack didn’t even blink.

  “You shouldn’t tease me.”

  I raised an eyebrow, cat walking toward him. “No? What are you going to do? Fire me? Write me up for my blouse that ‘looks too tight?’”

  I was trying to tease him, but the truth was I felt all kinds of hot and bothered. I was pretty sure my panties had set a world record for self-soaking the moment it clicked that Jack was excited when he’d thought I was going to strip for him.

  I lifted the hem of my shirt, showing a glimpse of skin.

  What started as a joking striptease was growing more and more dangerous by the moment. I could feel the electric power of his attention—the way my every movement was commanding the focus of his eyes. His gaze was hungry. Burning.

  His excitement just moments ago had been iron-clad permission. He wanted this. He’d been out of his mind with anticipation for it.

  I pulled off my other sock, then got close enough to dangle it in front of his eyes before I dropped it in his lap. “If you were wondering,” I whispered. “Yes. That is a little kitty cats face on my sock. So, in a way, I guess you could say you didn’t leave completely disappointed. Since…”

  “Your pussy is on my lap?” Jack finished.

  I bit my lip. Again, it was supposed to be a so-dumb-it’s-kind-of-funny joke. But hearing the words leave Jack’s mouth made it feel entirely different.

  “Maybe I should get that off there, before anyone wonders what my pussy is doing on your lap…” I said. I reached down to grab the sock, but instead of the loose fabric of his slacks beneath, I felt something hard. Very hard.

  “What is that?” I stupidly asked.

  “That is my penis,” Jack said. His voice was completely deadpan.

  “I had a hunch,” I whispered. I loosened my grip on his extraordinarily girthy member, plucked the sock, and then dangled it between us. “Now I think I’ll just go shove my foot back in my... pussy.” I was speaking so quiet and haltingly that I was sure he could hardly hear me. If awkwardness carried momentum, I’d entered the stage where my foot had slipped off the cliff’s edge and I was currently rolling downhill at increasing speed. I was blasting through solid rock and slicing down trees with the force of my cringeworthy descent, and it felt like no force of nature could stop it.

  Jack visibly swallowed, then stood. “I spent the whole ride here imagining how much I’d enjoy watching you strip down for me.”

  I took a step backwards, still holding the sock up like it was some sort of hot, horny man repellant. If it was, I noted that I should get my money back, because the gorgeous god with narrowed, focused eyes was still advancing my way.

  “Maybe we should think about this?” I suggested.

  “That’s what got me into trouble. Thinking about what I would do to you when I got here. Thinking about how much you’d like it.”

  “Oh, my.” I choked. “We’re doing the dirty talk thing now, aren’t we? Maybe we sh—” I was cut off when I backed into the couch and landed on my ass, legs splayed out and arms wide like I was a suburban dad—with a pink kitty sock in one hand—about to enjoy the game on a Sunday.

  Jack didn’t miss a beat. He paused at the foot of the couch and planted his arms on the backrest, boxing me in. Thousands of generations of women buried somewhere in my DNA cried out in unison at the scent that drifted from him to my nose. Do it. They seemed to say. Do it.

  All I could do was force a smile that absolutely didn’t fit the gravity of the moment. “You smell nice. Is that your soap, or…”

  “Tell me ‘no.’” Jack said. “That’s the only way this stops.”

  “No what?”

  He trailed a finger down my jawline, then brushed my skin with his thumb. The tender gesture seemed to promise that we were both only a breath away from hot, tangled flesh and the kind of penetration I’d been warned to avoid at countless high school rallies.

  Just say no.

  Or was that about drugs? I guessed in this case it was a negligible difference. Jack Kerrigan was a drug. Dickanthetamine. Cockaine. Great Hairajuana. He was all things tempting and mind altering rolled into one rugged package.

  Don’t think about smoking his pipe, Nola. Not appropriate. Not the time to be making sexual jokes in your head.

  Jack was waiting for something. He was poised and coiled so tightly I could practically feel the potential energy radiating from him.

  I tried to study the patch of his neck just above his collar, hoping some innocent view of him would let me think clearly. After all, what could be sexy about tanned, muscular skin disappearing into a crisp white collar? What was erotic about the slow pulsing vein that showed his steady, powerful heartbeat. What was the danger in… Well, crud.

  “What happens if I say yes?” I asked slowly.

  “I pick you up and carry you to my bed. I throw you down on the sheets, tear your clothes off, and find out if your pussy tastes even better than I’ve just spent the past hour imagining.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You really have an ability to paint a picture with words. Have you considered a career in the arts?”

  At this point, I was just making sounds with my mouth. Pointless noises to delay what I was slowly realizing was the inevitable. I wasn’t going to say no. I wasn’t going to stop him. I was just too scared to open the door I knew was about to burst open on its own. I was waiting for him to do it for me. To kick it in and take me.

  “Last chance,” he said.

  I pressed my lips together. At that point, muttering that single syllable of denial felt as terrifying as the urge to suddenly yank the wheel into oncoming traffic. I wanted everything he was promising. I wanted it so badly I was too terrified to speak because I might say the wrong thing.

  “I guess my only question is if you want that news I was trying to text about before, or after…”

  “Fuck the news.” Jack’s powerful arms scooped me up and before I could e
ven think about what was happening, his bedroom door was closing behind us.

  23

  Jack

  If I was a private investigator trying to determine how long it had been since I’d been properly laid, the evidence would be overwhelming. The cold sweat I’d worn when I came home expecting a nude nanny. The painful erection I’d been sporting like some middle schooler who had just discovered his first porno mag. The unceasing throb of need that was drowning everything else out in my brain.

  I was those kids in the marshmallow experiment video I’d seen on the internet a few years back. I was sitting in the chair staring at the sweet little thing in front of myself, practically dying as seconds crawled by like hours while I tried to resist.

  All that restraint had needed to be undone was fucking autocorrect, it appeared.

  True to my word, I tossed Nola on the bed and took in the sight of her. She was on her back, propped up on her elbows with her dress pooling around her hips so I could see the dark blue panties she wore and the even darker patch around her entrance. Good.

  At least I wasn’t the only one enjoying this prelude to what was about to happen. To the mistake we were both about to make.

  I wanted to take her clothes off, but I’d already waited too long for this. My patience was nonexistent, and all I could do was push her deeper on the bed and climb on top of her. I found her mouth and kissed her.

  Nola had been squirmy and looked flighty as a wild bird until that moment. Our lips touched and she went still as a statue. I took the soft warmth of her lower lip between mine and teased it with my tongue.

  One more kiss was all it took for the stiffness in her body to melt away. It felt like she was sinking into the bed beneath me and her small hands slid around my back, making me feel like some monstrously large thing on top of her.

  She was small. I decided I liked that. I enjoyed dwarfing her. I ran my hand down her side and liked the way it felt like I could nearly circle half of her waist with a single hand.