TWO WEEKS LATER, I had to admit Veronica was a better nanny than I thought she’d be.
The kids were on time for camp every day. Chores were checked off the charts. Library books were returned on time, plants did not die, and no one suffered any life-threatening injuries. She was, as advertised, not a good cook, but nobody starved—although the hockey pucks she called hamburgers and the soggy, salty casserole did have me momentarily considering a hunger strike.
But the kids didn’t seem to care one bit. When I came in to grab dinner before heading out to the workshop each evening, they were full of stories about the fun things they’d done that day—yoga at the beach, dance routines in the backyard, chalk art on the driveway, karaoke contests on the front porch. I’d gotten two calls from parents in the neighborhood wanting to know where I’d found the awesome new babysitter their kids had raved about.
“Through my sister,” was all I said. The entire town was buzzing about the bride who’d jilted a Vanderhoof at the altar and taken off running, and as much as I liked the story, I wasn’t sure I wanted it going around that I’d hired her.
The Fourth of July came around, and I took the day off work so we could all go out on Xander’s boat. The weather was gorgeous, and we had a fantastic time, water-skiing and tubing and cruising around on the lake. I did my best to keep my eyes off her body in the little black bikini she wore, but I’m positive she caught me staring more than once—and adjusting myself in my swim trunks afterward.
On her second Saturday with us, it rained, and even though it was technically her day off, she took the kids to a movie. Later that afternoon, the twins came running from the house into the garage, shouting, “Look at our tattoos, Dad!” I glanced up from the table I was working on to see both of my kids will full sleeves.
“They’re temporary! They’re temporary!” Veronica yelled, running in behind them. She was barefoot, wearing that flowery skirt and top again, the one that tied behind her neck and back and showed some of her stomach if she moved in just the right way. Her hair was up, but damp pieces fell in soft curls around her face.
“I hope so,” I said, setting my saw aside to examine Owen’s skinny right arm. “You’ve got more ink than Uncle Xander.”
“Look, this one is like yours, Daddy.” Adelaide shoved her elbow in my face and pointed at her deltoid. “It’s a bear.”
“I see that,” I said, although the smiling animal on her arm looked more like Winnie the Pooh than the grizzly on my shoulder.
“Do I look like a rock star?” Owen asked, playing air guitar along to the music on my speakers.
“Totally.” I looked up at Veronica, who seemed relieved I wasn’t mad. “Got any tattoos?”
Her cheeks turned a little pink. “Uh, none that are visible.”
Great, now I could add that to the list of things about her body I fantasized about. I’d managed to respect the physical boundaries we’d set without any problem so far, but my mind? That was another matter entirely.
If I had to add up all the minutes I’d spent thinking about her over the past fourteen days, the sum total would be embarrassing. But I couldn’t help it. There was something about her that got to me. It was her looks, sure, but it was also the easy rapport she had with the kids and my dad, the kindness she showed to everyone around her, the way she remembered everyone’s names and something about them, how quick she was to offer a hand with anything. She’d signed herself and the kids up to walk a 5K benefiting a nearby animal rescue, and said yes to a request that she teach a free dance class for senior citizens at the weekly 65-plus mixer at the library.
With every passing day, I was more impressed by her generosity, her work ethic, and her ability to find silver linings. Sometimes I’d overhear the kids ask about her childhood or life in New York City or what it was like to perform on stage every night, and she answered all their questions with patience and excitement, like she was glad to be asked. One night I overheard her telling them how an occasional shoe would fly off into the audience during routines with lots of kicks—the sound of the kids’ laughter made me smile.
There were things I wanted to know about her too, but I tried hard to maintain a professional distance between us.
Especially after dark.
After saying goodnight to the kids, I’d usually go back out to the garage and work on something. I would see her walk from the back door of the house to the stairs leading up to her apartment, and she always lifted a hand and called goodnight, but she never stopped to talk.
I’d hear her feet moving around above me, and I’d turn off my music so it wouldn’t keep her awake. Sometimes I heard the TV, sometimes I’d hear her talking with a friend, and I’d go perfectly still, trying to hear what she was saying about her life here or catch my name, but I couldn’t ever make anything out.
Then the shower would come on, and I’d imagine her taking off her clothes, getting beneath the water, and moving her hands all over her body. After a few minutes, the water would shut off and I’d picture her stepping out, dripping wet, reaching for her towel. After rubbing it all over her skin, she’d hang it up and walk into her bedroom naked, where she’d pull that white T-shirt over her head before crawling into bed. (In my fantasy, she never wore underwear.) Then she’d lie there and think about me in the garage beneath her and hope I’d come up and knock on her door.
I’d be hot and sweaty after a day’s work, covered in sawdust and grime, but she wouldn’t care. She’d act surprised to see me, maybe she’d even pretend she didn’t want this. She might say things like we can’t, we shouldn’t, we better not . . . but all the while she’d be backing up toward the bedroom.
She wanted this. Of course she did.
And I would—
“Austin?”
Jolted out of my daydream, I realized I was standing there in front of her and my kids. Immediately I went and stood behind the table I was working on, since my dick was clearly trying to get her attention. “Sorry, what?”
“Is it okay if we order pizza for dinner?” She sighed. “I think the kitchen and I need a little space in our new relationship.”
I laughed. “It’s fine with me. Xander is supposed to stop by, so get enough for him too.”
“Okay. What about your dad? Should we invite him as well?”
I shook my head, touched that she’d suggest it. “It’s poker night. His crew gets together at Gus’s house every other Saturday and they go a little wild. They split a six-pack and eat high-sodium snacks.”
She giggled. “Good for them. Okay kids, let’s leave your dad alone so he can get his work done.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” She smiled at me over one shoulder, and honest to god, my heart nearly jumped from my chest onto the table in front of me.
After a dinner break, during which I struggled to keep my eyes off her, I came back out to the garage to work while Veronica and the kids settled in the living room to watch a movie. She wanted to show them some old movie musical that had been her favorite as a kid, and they were totally into it. If I had suggested a movie from my childhood, they’d have pitched a fit, but somehow every idea Veronica had was automatically fun. Seeing them snuggle up with blankets and pillows and popcorn on the floor in the living room sort of made me want to blow off work and join them.
Xander followed me out to the garage, hurrying through the rain, which had started up again. After helping himself to a beer from my fridge, he jumped up on my tool bench and watched me lay out the boards for a Parsons table I was making from some red and white oak.
“So how’s it going with Veronica?” he asked.
“Fine.” I grabbed my tape measure and extended the metal strip. “Although she wasn’t lying about not being able to cook.”
He laughed. “You are looking a little skinny. Want to arm wrestle?”
“I’d still kick your ass.”
“Okay, big brother.” Xander’s tone let me know he was giving me this one for free. “Now tell me how it’s going between you and the nanny.”
“She’s a good employee.” I scribbled some measurements on a scrap of paper. “Does what I ask her to.”
“Have you asked her for a blow job?”
I gave him the finger without looking in his direction. “If you’re going to be an asshole, you can leave. She works for me. She takes care of my kids.”
“I’m just saying, I don’t think she’d complain. She looks at you.”
I lined up the tape measure on the next board without even looking at the number. “Fuck off.”
“I’m serious. She does it when you’re not paying attention. And when you’re looking at her, she’s focused on the kids. You guys look at each other. Trust me.”
A sweat broke out on my back. “We’re not looking at each other like that.”
“It’s like that,” he said confidently. “Not that I blame you. She’s gorgeous.”
“So you ask her out.” I said it, but at the thought of his actually doing it, a jolt of hot, electric rage shocked my system. I immediately regretted my words.
“Nah,” he said, thank fuck. “She’s not interested in me. Plus, I’m looking for a wife, and I feel like she’s probably not looking to get serious with someone so soon after her bad experience.”
Finally, I turned around and stared at him. “A wife? Are you joking?”
“No. I feel like it’s time I settle down. I’m thirty-one, you know? I’ve sown my oats. Once I get my business going and move out of Dad’s house, I’ll be like two-thirds of the way to respectable adulthood. I just need a wife and a couple of kids to complete the picture. But not like you did it,” he said, taking a swig from his beer. “Not two at once. That’s too much work.”
“Dude, the longest relationship you’ve ever had was like four weeks.”
“I was married to the U.S. Navy,” he said defensively. “I was serving my country—and I was good at it, until I got injured. I think I’ll be a fucking great husband.”
“You do?”
He grinned and spread his arms. “I’m great at everything else, aren’t I?”
Ignoring him, I turned around and got back to work.
“You know what? I’m so confident you and the nanny are going to bang that I’ll place a bet on it.”
Xander was always looking for a way to win, especially if it meant I lost. “What kind of bet?”
“The bar I want you to make. If you keep your hands to yourselves for two more weeks, I’ll quit bugging you about it. If you can’t, you owe me some reclaimed wood.”
“Deal,” I said. All it would take to win this bet and get Xander off my ass was mental fortitude. That, I had.
I hoped.
I put up with Xander for another couple hours, then kicked him out and went into the house to put the kids to bed. Veronica had already seen to it that the leftovers were put away and their chore charts marked off, and she said goodnight to the twins and promised to teach them some tap dance steps tomorrow.
“Tap dance, huh?” I said.
“Yes. Roni said we can make our own tap shoes!” Adelaide said excitedly.
I looked at Veronica. “You can?”
“Sure.” She grinned and tucked one of those curls behind her ear. “We just need some sneakers, packing tape, and spare change.”
“I think we can manage that,” I said, impressed by her ingenuity.
“I thought it might be a fun project since it’s supposed to rain all day again tomorrow.” She laughed and struck a pose with jazz hands. “Then we can put on a show for you tomorrow night!”
“Yay!” The twins clapped their hands and jumped up and down.
“Sounds like fun. Okay, you guys, head upstairs.” I nudged them both out of the kitchen, and they went dancing toward the front of the house. Then I turned toward Veronica. “You do know you have tomorrow off, right?”
She loaded a dinner plate in the dishwasher. “I know.”
“And that you had tonight off as well? You don’t need to clean up the kitchen.”
“I don’t mind.” She shut the dishwasher door and turned around, leaning back against the sink with her palms draped over the edge. “And it’s not like I have anything better to do tonight. Just laundry.”
“As long as you know I don’t expect you to work on your days off.”
“I know.” Her blue eyes stayed on mine for a moment, then drifted over my T-shirt, which was coated in sawdust and damp with rain and sweat. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes traveled lower, to the crotch of my jeans. I thought about what Xander said—she looks at you—and the back of my neck grew warm.
I glanced at the fridge and thought about a dirty chore chart for her and everything I’d put on it. Give me a handjob. Sit on my face. Suck my dick.
My cock twitched.
I was a bad person.
“Well, goodnight,” I said, desperate to exit the room and her line of sight.
“Night,” she said softly as I left the room.
Halfway up the steps, I paused and closed my eyes, my hand gripping the banister, my pulse beating a little too fast.
What was the bet I’d made with Xander? Two weeks?
I had a sinking feeling I might lose.
After putting the kids to bed, I went out to the garage to put away the tools I’d left out—I never left it messy at night. The rain had stopped again, but it was hot and humid, and I was anxious to get everything in order and grab a cold shower.
I needed one. A cold beer sounded good too.
The lights in the apartment above the garage were off, and I assumed Veronica had already gone to bed, so it surprised me when I heard the back door to the house close. I looked up and saw her walking toward the garage, carrying a laundry basket on one hip. She gave me a wave.
I lifted a hand, and before I could stop myself, I held up the beer I’d just opened. “Want one?”
She hesitated, glancing back at the house.
“It’s okay. They’re fine. I actually still have the baby monitor in here for nights when I want to work late.”
“Oh. Okay, then.” She entered the garage and I glanced at her bare feet.
“You should probably put shoes on though. I haven’t swept in a few days, and I don’t want you to get a splinter or step on a nail or anything.”
“My shoes are upstairs.” She looked at the laundry basket. “I was just going up to fold my laundry.”
“You can fold down here if you want.” I gestured toward a work table. “I can put a clean drop cloth on this.”
“Oh. Okay.” She set her laundry basket on the floor. “Then I’ll be right back.”
I watched her leave the garage on her tiptoes, being careful where she stepped, and heard her going up the stairs. After she was gone, I threw a clean cloth over the work table, then placed her laundry basket on top of it. I couldn’t resist peering into the jumble of clothing—on top were her whites and I saw bits of lace and satin that made my blood rush faster.
When I heard her feet on the stairs again, I backed away so I wouldn’t be caught looking at her panties like a creeper. I went over to the fridge and grabbed her a beer.
She appeared in a pair of flip flops. “Safe to enter?”
“Safe to enter.” I handed her the bottle. “Here you go.”
She clinked hers to mine. “Cheers.”
I watched her bring the bottle to her lips and saw her throat work as she swallowed. Damn, it was hot in here.
“Thank you,” she said, noticing the cloth over the table where I’d placed her laundry basket. She took another sip, set her beer down, and began to pull items out and fold them. “So did you get a lot done today?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back against my workbench and tried not to notice what each piece was as she folded—bras, panties, little tank tops, the white T-shirt she’d worn the night we kissed. “Thanks again for working the extra hours. I’ll pay you for them.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“So how did your first two weeks go as a nanny?”
“Great. The kids are so fun. And this town is delightful.” She scrunched up her face. “Sorry about the food. I’ll work on it.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’ve worked in a bunch of bars and restaurants, but I just never learned to cook. And my mom never taught me.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “I think it was also a rebellion against her mother, who pretty much lived in the kitchen. Very traditional beliefs about where a woman belonged and all that. They never got along.”
I tipped up my beer. It was easy to remain silent around her—the woman was a talker.
“They were just so different, you know? My grandmother was totally subservient and submissive to my grandfather. My mother was independent and feisty. Always bucking the rules.” She folded a pair of shorts in half. “And I was her daughter through and through. Which is why I cannot believe I let Neil do what he did.”
I took another couple of cold swallows.
“God, I miss her.” She was quiet a moment, staring at the clothing in the basket. “What was your mom like?”
“She was tough. She had to be, with four rowdy sons. She was so determined to teach us good manners and we were like a pack of wild animals, always wanting to tear each other apart.” I laughed. “Sometimes she used to just give up, set a timer, and let Xander and I fight in the backyard for three minutes.”
Veronica smiled. “Like a boxing round?”
“Exactly.”
“So who’d win?”
I gave her a dirty look. “Me, of course.”
Her grin widened. “Of course.”
“Then she’d have to listen to us howl in pain while she cleaned us up, and she’d tell us it was our own damn faults and we’d never learn.”
She folded a pair of shorts. “I feel like she was on to something there.”
“But she was funny and outgoing and always saw the good in everyone.”
“What did she look like?”
“A lot like Mabel. Dark hair. Blue eyes. A loud laugh, a big smile.” The rain started up again, drumming on the garage roof.
Veronica smiled and picked up her beer. “Did she and your dad get along?”
I nodded. “They always claimed it was love at first sight. On their first date, he told her he was going to marry her. And he did. Six months later.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “That’s incredible.”
“Or crazy.”
“And he never dated again? I mean, after she was gone?”
“Nope.” I could hear his voice in my head. “He always said, ‘It only happens once.’”
Nodding slowly, Veronica placed her folded clothing into neat piles inside the basket, then hitched herself up on the edge of the table so she sat right across from me. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”
“Nah.” I scraped at the label of the bottle with my thumbnail. “I had a few girlfriends before the twins were born. But never anything serious.”
“Are you one of those guys who doesn’t do feelings?”
I frowned at her. “You sound like my sister. It’s not that I ‘don’t do feelings.’ I have plenty of them. I just think certain emotions are kind of pointless. What a person does is more important than how they feel.”
She held her ankles together and stared at her feet. “Actually, I’ve never been in love either.”
“Not even with your ex?”
“No.” Cheeks coloring, she shook her head. “And he wasn’t in love with me. We had no business getting married.”
“Good thing you didn’t.”
She sipped her beer. “Did you think about marrying the twins’ mom?”
I shook my head. “The first thing she said to me after ‘I’m pregnant’ was ‘I’ll have the baby, but I’m not going to keep it.’ So there was no reason to consider it.”
“And since then you’ve been single?”
“Since then, I’ve been single. I like my independence.”
“You don’t get lonely?”
“Never,” I lied.
She nodded. “I like my independence too, but I do think it’s nice to share things with someone. One of the reasons I loved being a Rockette was because we were like a family. I never should have let Neil talk me into quitting.”
“Why did he want you to quit?”
“He didn’t think it was a suitable job for a Vanderhoof wife.” She made air quotes and wrinkled her nose. “It was probably something his mother said.”
I grunted. “Every time I hear something about that guy, I despise him a little more.”
She grinned. “It’s too bad you weren’t at the wedding. You’d have enjoyed the show.”
“I can picture it pretty vividly. I’ve heard the story enough times.”
“From the kids?”
I shrugged. “It’s a small town.”
Her jaw fell open. “You mean people are talking about me?”
“Of course they are.” Amused, I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m surprised the Harbor Gazette hasn’t called you for an interview yet.”
“Oh no!” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “That is so embarrassing.”
“Why? You put an asshole in his place. He can’t just go around treating people like shit and expect no one to mind.”
“I know, but . . .” Her cheeks grew even more pink. “I just don’t want that to be people’s first impression of me. I’m a friendly person. I have nice manners. I’m a good girl.”
“Are you?” The question slipped out.
Her hand slowly fell to her lap.
I don’t know what made me do what I did next—maybe it was all the talk about her ex that got me worked up. Maybe it was the way she was blushing.
Hell, maybe it was the crop top.
I pushed off the workbench in no hurry, crossing the three feet of space between us until I stood in front of where she sat on the edge of the table. She opened her knees, and I took a step closer. Her thighs now straddled mine. I touched her lips with my thumb, tugging the lower one down slightly. I felt the barest caress of her tongue as her eyes held mine captive.
Her skirt had a slit that exposed one knee, and I took my hand from her mouth and placed it on the top of her thigh. Slowly, I slid it up her leg until my thumb and fingers bracketed her hip. I squeezed gently.
She inhaled sharply.
With my other hand, I touched one of those curls that fell around her face. It felt like silk between my callused fingers. She turned her cheek into my palm and rubbed the heel of my hand with her chin. I closed my eyes, my entire body tense with restraint.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
“It’s not,” I said between my teeth.
And when I still couldn’t bring myself to move, she kissed my palm, then the inside of my wrist, then my jaw. When I opened my eyes, I saw her lean back on her elbows, her top riding up to expose a strip of skin on her belly.
Unable to resist, I lowered my mouth to her abdomen. Her muscles trembled. Slowly, I kissed a path across the ribbon of soft, warm skin. Then I rested my forehead on her stomach, breathing in her scent, wanting her, aching to untie the top, put a hand up her skirt, claim her mouth with mine. My desire for her had the strength of a nuclear bomb.
“Daddy?” I bolted upright and looked at the open garage door, expecting to see Owen standing there with a confused look on his face. But no one was there.
“It’s the monitor.” Veronica was still breathing hard, her chest rising and falling quickly.
Heart pounding, I hurried out of the garage into the rain.
I was surprised it didn’t sizzle on my skin.
