Max

Ding-dong.

I whirled around just as the toast popped up from the toaster and Dylan shrieked from her high chair.

“What the . . .” I glanced at the clock. It was seven thirty—a full thirty minutes before the nanny was supposed to be here. I hadn’t even combed my hair or brushed my teeth yet. And as for the kitchen?

I glanced around, looking for any place where the counter was actually visible.

“Damn,” I mumbled, and then plowed my fingers through my hair as I made for the door. When I opened it, I found Addison on the step with a suitcase, her long brown hair swept into a neat ponytail on top of her head.

“Good morning,” she chirped.

I’d bypassed my typical morning wood since I’d been awakened by the sounds of the baby screeching, but now, with Addison at the door like the opening shot to a porno flick titled Naughty Nanny’s First Day, my cock swelled.

“Uh, hi. You’re early,” I said, stepping aside so she could walk into the foyer. Catching sight of her bag, I scrubbed my hand over my face. “Shit, you probably have stuff you wanted to bring. Should I have sent some movers or—”

She shook her head and held up a hand. “I’m completely fine. I’ve got everything I need. I’m just going to run my stuff upstairs, and we can get started.”

“Perfect,” I said, my tone slightly annoyed as she headed for the stairwell beside me while I was careful not to reel around and try to catch a glimpse of that round peach of an ass.

God, five minutes in and I was already acting like a fuck-stick. What was wrong with me?

Dylan squealed again and I rushed for the kitchen, pulling the bread from the toaster and slathering a healthy portion of peanut butter over the browned surface.

“There you go, kid.” I set the toast onto the tray of her high chair. “One for you, and one for me.”

She reached for my piece, ignoring her own, but I chomped on it, brushing away some of the crumbs I was dropping all over the floor.

Watching Dylan navigate her piece of toast, I was suddenly hit with a wave of worry. Am I doing the right thing by leaving her here today with a perfect stranger?

The coffeepot dinged and I made my way over, briefly debating whether to pour one mug or two before realizing there was only one clean mug left, anyway.

“All right, all settled.” Addison appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a light blue button-down top with polka dots. It was prim and proper, very Carol Brady—not that Addison was old enough to know who that was.

She glanced around the room and winced, but then covered it quickly with a smile. “I can take it from here.” She aimed that grin at Dylan, who cooed in delight. “All I need to know is what Dylan’s daily schedule is usually like.”

She turned her gaze on me and I frowned, unsure how to respond. “Her schedule?” Dylan was a baby. She didn’t exactly have a to-do list.

“Yeah, what kind of routine do you guys have?”

I blinked. “We, um, we’re sort of free spirits. Not much of a schedule.”

Addison tilted her head slightly, but her expression didn’t change from its placid, thoughtful state. “That’s cool. Since I’m new around here, Dylan and I can probably develop our own schedule over time. You’ll be surprised what a difference routines make for little ones. I’m sure you’ll see the improvement.”

“I’m sure I will.” I glanced at the door, then back at Addison. “Maybe I should stay around since this is your first day? I can work from home while you learn the ropes. I don’t want to just toss you in here.”

Dylan cackled, and I became uncomfortably aware of the electricity buzzing between Addison and me.

This poor woman must think I’m insane. One minute I’m an asshole, and the next I’m leering at her.

She swept her arm through the air, waving me off. “Don’t be silly. You need to work, and Dylan and I need a schedule. It’s a perfect arrangement for everyone.”

“I left a list of important information on the fridge. Phone numbers too.”

Addison nodded. “I appreciate that.”

Already, she was wiping away the smudge of peanut butter from Dylan’s cheek and clearing the crumbs from her high-chair tray.

“Don’t be afraid to use it, all right?” I said, suddenly filled with a strange apprehension at the thought of leaving.

“I won’t.” She picked up a few errant mugs from the table in front of the wide bay window and plunked them on top of the mound of dishes that filled the sink. “It’s almost eight. You should probably get going. Do you need some coffee first?” She motioned to the pot, and I shook my head.

“No, no, I’m fine. That’s for you.”

She grinned. “Thanks, that’s really nice.”

“Don’t be afraid to call me if something is wrong. My cell is the first number on the list.”

“You bet. Don’t worry. You have my number, and everything is going to be great,” she said encouragingly. The dimple in her cheek made the briefest appearance, and despite myself, my lips split into a matching smile.

“Yeah.” I nodded, and I wasn’t sure how she did it, but twenty minutes later, she managed to push me out the door of my own house. Before I knew it, I was standing on the steps where she’d been only moments before, staring at my truck and digging in my pocket for my keys.

I had half a mind to walk back in there and read aloud to her everything I’d written down. I was nearly to the point of turning the handle when she appeared with Dylan at the front window, both of them waving me off.

“Bye-bye, Daddy,” Addison cooed. “Say bye-bye.”

I waved back at them, then trudged toward my truck with a full heart. As I backed out of the driveway, they never moved from where they stood. All the while they waved after me, and I watched them in my rearview mirror until they were only specks.

How could Jenn have left Dylan with me like that when it was making my gut churn just to leave her behind with the nanny? I shook my head, marveling at the oddness of parenthood, and doing my best to ignore the little voice in my head that urged me to turn around and go back home to be with Dylan again.

Maybe that was why the drive to work felt so exceptionally long. It was like every light turned red and all the traffic crawled to a standstill. My only options were to the stare at the clock on the dashboard, or wait for my phone to buzz with news about the baby. I knew that any second I would get a message asking me to come home, or telling me that Dylan was sick or . . .

I took a deep breath. My office building was just ahead of me now, and I pulled into my parking space, suddenly overcome with exhaustion.

“Coffee,” I muttered to myself. “I’ve got to get some coffee.”

Climbing out of my truck, I pulled my cell from my pocket and glanced at the home screen. It was cheesy, I knew, but Dylan’s face stared back at me from the photo I’d taken yesterday and chosen as my wallpaper, a spit bubble still wet on her lips. No messages.

“Probably still having breakfast,” I said, then internally scolded myself. I couldn’t go through the entire day talking to myself. I wasn’t going to become that guy—that nervous parent who left the office at lunchtime because he couldn’t stand to be away from his kid.

Dylan was in good hands. I just had to be patient. I could do this.

With all that in mind, I climbed the stairs to my office and managed to only check my cell another four times before opening my door and trudging toward my Keurig. As I popped a K-cup into place, Tiffany hurried through the door, her red hair slightly mussed.

“Damn, I was trying to beat you to the coffeepot.” She blew out a shallow breath, then held her chest as it rose and fell in quick succession.

“Did you actually run in here?”

She smiled. “Maybe.”

Laughing at herself, she took a seat across from my desk, and we reviewed the notes and agenda for the day. A few times, she paused, and I knew she was on the brink of asking me about Dylan, but either my serious gaze or her own inhibitions stopped her. Whatever the reason was, though, I was grateful for it.

“Okay, I think that’s everything,” I said, and my phone buzzed against the rustic wood surface of my desk.

Without bothering to excuse myself, I snatched up the phone and thumbed it open. Dylan stared back at me, but this time it wasn’t my wallpaper photo—she was in her high chair mixing something in a bright yellow bowl and making a mess of it, her head tossed back in mid-laugh. I scrolled down and read the text.

 

Addison: Someone likes banana pancakes!

 

The text featured a little monkey emoji beneath it, and I smiled.

“Everything all right?” Tiffany asked, and I was surprised to see her still standing there as I looked up.

“Yeah, everything’s great.”

She cocked her head and then backed away. “All right then, if you’re sure.”

After she left, I stared at the door, still thinking of Dylan mixing her pancake ingredients. I would never have thought to cook with her or have her help like that, not when she was so young. I’d be too nervous about the stove or her somehow getting to one of the knives . . .

I sipped my coffee, blowing a deep breath out my nose. Even now, with all these hypothetical worries trampling my thoughts, I felt better than I had in the last three days combined. The panic of being a parent, of being responsible for another person’s life, was still there, churning away at the back of my mind, but I was feeling better by the second. Sure, Dylan might get near the stove or the knives when I was around, but I knew Addison would never let that happen. She had a knack. She was a natural at this in a way I wasn’t.

And the way she looked at Dylan? Addison was the one thing I knew I didn’t have to worry about.

For the next few hours, I timed myself—only allowing myself to glance at my phone every thirty minutes. Even then, I didn’t allow myself to text and ask how Dylan was doing. The girls needed time to bond, and I needed to work. God knew I needed to work.

Around two, though, my phone chimed again and I found another picture waiting for me. This time Addison and Dylan were laughing together, each of them holding sparkly Play-Doh in their hands. Had Addison brought toys with her? She didn’t have to do that.

My heart melted when I read the message underneath.

 

Addison: Don’t worry, even the sparkles are non-toxic. We’re learning not to eat play dough.

 

I laughed, imagining Dylan’s face wrinkling as she tasted the salty concoction. No doubt that was a lesson she was going to hang on to.

I moved to put my phone down, but then it buzzed in my hand and another message appeared.

 

Addison: Hey, what time do you get home from work? I forgot to ask.

 

I replied quickly, letting her know I’d be home around six, but before I could put the phone down, it buzzed again.

 

Addison: Okay, great. As for dinner . . . do you have any allergies or anything? Anything you don’t like?

Max: You don’t have to go grocery shopping.

 

Her answer came immediately after my response. I’d left her the car seat just in case, but I’d rather her not have to bother with it.

 

Addison: Too late. I’m making dinner, but I need to know if anything is going to kill you first.

 

I smiled. She had a sense of humor beneath that bubbly persona.

 

Max: No mustard, please. Other than that, I’m easy.

 

Addison sent a little thumbs-up in return.

Grinning, I put the phone down and turned back to my work, but before I got a chance to fully dive in, my office door opened.

“Hey, you have a minute?” Tiffany peeked around the door and when I nodded, she stepped inside, careful to shut the door behind her.

“I was thinking, the last couple of days have been tough for you. Do you and Dylan want to come over to my place tonight? It might be nice for you to get a home-cooked meal for a change.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I actually already have plans.”

She rolled her eyes. “No one calls the drive-through at Wendy’s ‘plans.’”

I laughed. “No. Dylan’s new nanny is making us dinner.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice tight. After a pause, she added, “I’d wondered where that little muffin was today.”

I nodded. “Yep, she’s home, and happy and safe. But like I said, that was very nice of you to offer. Thanks again.”

“Anytime. It’s an open invitation.” Tiffany hesitated and then headed back out the door, closing it with a tiny snap.

I threw myself back into work, and at one point, realized that I was humming under my breath.

I patted myself on the back for a job well done. Now that Addison was living in the house and taking care of the baby, everything was going to be perfect.