It had been years since I played immature golf, as my grandfather used to call it. It was still early in the day when we arrived, so the place was far from crowded, which worked for me. When Chloe invited me, my initial reaction was to bow out and give them some daddy-daughter time, but the selfish side of me took over when Wyatt sent me his own version of puppy dog eyes.

The course was simple and dated, which meant I lucked out. It had castles. Chloe had spent the entire ride over talking about the castle and not having one would’ve crushed her. We played the first few holes with all the enthusiasm and gusto the event required. But slowly and surely the place filled up and people started tapping their toes behind us.

“Putt putt’s hard.” Chloe pouted after missing the ball three times in a row.

“It is,” I agreed. “But it’s fun to play with your family.” I bit my tongue, cursing myself for the slip. I wasn’t family. I was the hired help. I couldn't let myself get too intertwined with them. Truth be told, though, that ship had long sailed.

“That’s because you and Oliver get it in the hole.” She stuck her tongue out in concentration and swung once more, this time nicking the ball sending it the wrong direction.

“Want me to help you some more?” I offered.

“No, Daddy do it.” Best. Answer. Ever. There was a danger when you are a nanny that the child might become reliant on you for help simply because you are the person there more often to give help. My face lit up at her reply, as did Wyatt’s. “And I want the castle.” She pointed to the castle, which was not only vacant, but the few holes between us and it were also empty. Score.

She carried her ball straight to the starting divot. Wyatt came up behind her, helping line up her putter with the ball. As her arm came down, I sent up a silent wish that she hit the ball and in the correct direction, which she did. Only six more swings and the ball was in the hole. It was a par two, but considering it was her first single digit score, we all called it a win with high fives and hugs all around.

“Can we have ice cream?” She looked between us as if looking for the weak link.

“Don’t you want to finish?” I asked. Not that I was opposed to being done for the day.

“No. I want strawberry.” She pointed to the little ice cream stand near the parking lot.

“Finish on a high note?” Wyatt shrugged.

“Works for me.” I held out my hand for their clubs and balls and went to the return station.

As I caught up with them, they were already on a bench ice cream in hand.

“Chloe said you would want strawberry like her and I said you like chocolate, so we got you both.” He handed me an ice cone filled with two of my favorites.

“Thank you. They are both my favorite.” I began to lick the drippings away, catching Wyatt watching my mouth a little too closely. I wanted it to be because of feelings I knew he didn’t have for meI. It was too easily to convince myself that his every day benign actions were more, meant more.

“See, Daddy. I told you he likes strawberry.” Chloe went straight back to eating her ice cream.

The only spot left on the bench was next to Wyatt, Chloe having taken the spot closest to the slide, which I had no doubt was her next target. I settled into my spot, trying hard not to be obvious about the fact that I was attempting to sit as far away Wyatt as possible without being rude. Sitting too close to him, even in this open area, was bound to do things to me. Things I would rather go unnoticed.

I ate my ice cream, paying absolutely no attention to Wyatt’s mouth as he consumed his. I did not watch his tongue snake around to catch a drip. Or his tongue licking the remains of the icy goodness from his lips. I definitely didn't state as his teeth grazed the frozen confection before taking a small bite. Who was I kidding? It was official. I was jealous of an ice cream cone. A freaking ice cream cone.

“I wanna slide.” Chloe bound in front of us, her face filled with ice cream and a ginormous smile.

I’d almost forgotten she was there as I stared at her father. That was not good. Not. Good. At. All. She was a smart enough girl that she would notice if I didn’t shut that shit down fast. The last thing I needed was to confuse her.

“Here.” I offered her a napkin as she waited for her father’s reply.

“For a few minutes. Then we have to get home. It’s almost lunch time.”

She nodded her agreement before running off to get in as many slides as she could before we left.

I gave Wyatt a teasing shoulder bump, “You did hear the ridiculousness of your statement, right?

“As soon as the word lunch left my mouth. Thanks for coming today.” He twisted to face me as I turned to face him, both of us still at an angle where we could watch Chloe slide over and over again, giggling each time she did.

“Sure, but why thanks?” I pretended to be busy with my ice cream as silence filled the space between us, the only sounds coming from the other people in the park. I’d learned early on that Wyatt was comfortable with silence when he was carefully choosing his words.

“It’s good for Chloe to see us together like this,” I could’ve sworn I saw the beginnings of a blush on him. “So she knows we are both on the same page,” he quickly added. “If you hadn’t noticed, she has been angling to play us in her quest for a puppy.”

“I noticed.” Everyone she met noticed. She was a three-year-old negotiation powerhouse when it came to that puppy. “Please say there will be no puppy.” It was the first time I expressed my opinion out loud. If there was going to be one, I’d figure it out, but puppies were far more work than I wanted. When Wyatt’s shoulders relaxed, so did mine. I wasn’t alone in this. “A dog I can handle, puppies are just too much work.” Little pee machines that wake you up in the middle of the night and beg for food every time you go near their bowl. Cute? Yes. But they were needy little buggers.

“Don’t I know it. I’m pretty sure Sally already lined up homes for all of them. They will be ready to go home as soon as next week.”

And there was much rejoicing.

“I’ll miss them. Not enough to argue for one to come home, but I bonded with them and am glad they are being placed by Sally and not the shelter.” That night when we took care of them, I more than bonded with them. I bonded with Wyatt. It was if there was a shift that night. A tiny one, but nonetheless. I became less the help that night and more of a friend.

“I agree.” He popped the last bit of cone into his mouth before catching an escaped drop from the corner of his mouth.

“This was nice.” The words fell from my mouth before I could stop them, Wyatt’s eyes going wide for the tiniest of moments.

“What was?”

“Spending the morning together like this.” I looked just above his eyes as I spoke, fearing the honesty was a bit too much given our primary roles as employer and employee.

“It was.” He whispered as a three-year-old ball of laughter barreled at us, effectively ending the conversation.