Fuck me. It’s like seeing her for the first time. The little neighbor girl I used to hang out with is gone. I don’t know who this stunning, confident, caring woman is in front of me, but it can’t be little Cheyenne Jefferson.

Especially not those perky, round tits with the hardened nipples.

When she picked up Hudson, she tightened her shirt around her waist. It’s revealing everything. I’m trying hard not to stare, especially not in front of my son, but I want to. If we were alone, I’m not sure what could stop me from taking her into the pool house, ripping that sinfully thin, stained shirt off, and touching everything underneath. Her supple, tan skin would feel so good under my rough fingers.

She turns around to go inside the house, and my gaze suddenly fixates on her ass. Her shorts barely cover her. The inside of them is riding up, giving me just a hint of each of her sweet little ass cheeks.

The heat combined with the intense arousal makes me sweat. I shouldn’t be looking at her like this. I remember the girl I treated as a little sister. She probably thinks I only played with her to get the older girls’ attention, which was true at first, but the more I hung out with the little girl next door, the more I grew to love playing with her. I have two brothers, but no sisters. She was like a princess to me. I would have killed anyone who dared to hurt her.

Now that brotherly affection is gone, nonexistent. I’m feeling something else entirely, and it’s absolutely fucking wrong.

Brushing my hair back from my forehead, I give my arms a little shake and get ready to clean the pool. I haven’t done this since I was eighteen. Don Jefferson used to be my best customer. I’d clean their pool almost every week, and he always added a large tip onto my usual twenty bucks. Being here is like being transported back in time, except now Cheyenne is all grown up, and I have a child of my own and a cheating bitch of an ex-wife to deal with. If Cheyenne had been my age in high school, I wonder what would have happened?

I suddenly have a visual of her walking out of her house in a G-string bikini to watch me clean the pool. She’d tease me from a lounge chair, flaunting her tits in the tiny piece of fabric, and then we’d go in the pool house to make out...

Fuck. Now I have an erection the size of Mount Everest.

I adjust myself discreetly in case Hudson talked her into watching me from the window. Then I pick up the net and force myself to focus on the task at hand. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. My hormones are raging as if I’m a horny teenager again. It must be the fact that I’m finally single for the first time in eight years and can think about whomever I want. Hopefully this temporary insanity will pass. I can only imagine what Don would do if he knew the way I was thinking about his daughter. He’d probably kick me off his property and never let me over here again.

Scooping bugs out of a grimy tub of water is not the most entertaining or pleasant job on the planet, so I hook up my earbuds to my phone and let my problems drift away to the sound of Van Halen. It doesn’t take me long at all to fall back into my old pattern of cleaning a pool. I pulled some “big” bucks doing this as a high schooler, or at least I thought they were big back then. Now that I’m the CEO of my own startup company, working from home and pulling the salary of one of the big wigs downtown, I can’t even imagine going back to catching dead insects for a living. Majoring in business with a concentration in entrepreneurship was the best thing I ever did. I designed an iPhone app while I was in college specifically for college students to order food and have it delivered to their dorm rooms. It was a small convenience, but it turned out a lot of people needed it and were willing to pay for it. After that, I started designing other mobile apps for niche demographics, and my business boomed. Sherwood Enterprises now designs apps for all sorts of things, from selling used brand-name clothes to checking the weather for the day. Money is not an object for me anymore. So much has flooded in on me in the past few years that I don’t even know what to do with it.

I used to use my money to spoil my family, and I still use the money to spoil Hudson, but unfortunately my ex-wife saw my fortune as an opportunity. She used all the money from our joint savings account to hire a lawyer, who convinced a judge that she deserved half of everything…except time with Hudson. She didn’t even try to win custody of him. All she cared about was getting her half of the fortune I’d made. It shattered my heart—not for me, but for my little boy. Having loving parents as I did, I can’t even imagine a parent not fighting for their child. I misjudged Britney terribly, because I truly thought when I married her that she was a kind, loving person. Money changes people, which is why I’ve decided to keep my fortune a secret from everyone except close family. My company and its net worth are not well-known, which is another perk of not having a physical business presence. If I ever get married again, I want to know the person doesn’t value money or physical possessions above me. The mistake I made with Britney was telling her how much I was making, even in college, and obviously it made her greedy.

After I’ve finished cleaning the pool, I put away the net and other tools inside the pool house and hurry inside, hoping Hudson hasn’t caused too much trouble for his astonishingly sexy, young babysitter. Every time I think about Cheyenne’s developed adult frame, I shudder with lust. Then I immediately cringe. I wish I could stop these thoughts from assaulting me, but they’ve been popping up ever since I laid eyes on her a couple of hours ago. Tonight, I’m going to have to take care of this massive, relentless boner she gave me. It’s the first one I’ve ever had that won’t go down even when I’m busy ridding a pool of grime and insect corpses.

When I walk in the French doors in the rear of the house, I hear a small voice calling to me from the Jefferson’s kitchen.

“Da-ee?”

A smile grows on my face. Hearing that little voice is the only thing that has kept me going through this hellish divorce. My boy needs me, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to quit on life as long as he’s around.

As soon as I turn the corner into the kitchen, the iron casing surrounding my heart melts away. My little boy is sitting on Cheyenne’s lap on a chair at the kitchen table, and she’s pulled up his favorite show on her phone for him. He’s watching intently, grinning as he points at things and tells her about them. She’s smiling and engaged as she acknowledges him. The way he’s cuddled into her—head on her shoulder, tucked into her neck under her right ear—it’s as if they’ve known each other all his life. He only relaxes like that when he’s truly comfortable with someone. Two hours, and he’s treating her like she’s a member of the family.

“Hey, you two,” I say softly, trying not to disturb the lovely picture in front of me. I pass by them to the counter where a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies is sitting. Sweet treats aren’t really my poison anymore, but I can enjoy a homemade baked good just as much as anyone else. As soon as the cookie makes contact with my mouth, I lose control of myself and moan deeply.

“Cheyenne, these cookies are phenomenal.”

“Thanks.” Cheyenne beams up at me, stopping my heartbeat. “It was my mother’s recipe.” A flicker of sadness enters her eyes and disappears as quickly as it came.

“She was an excellent cook,” I tell her as I scoop up two more cookies in a napkin and join them at the table. She smiles her appreciation. Just looking over the curves of her face, the fullness of her lips, the stray curls around her forehead…I lose myself in the fantasy of her for a brief moment. What will it be like coming downstairs to this picture every day after work?

“So did you guys have fun while I was out there?”

“Yeah,” Hudson pipes up. “Coo-ies and Tie-tops.”

“It took me forever to figure out who ‘Tie-tops’ was,” Cheyenne confesses, her melodic giggle lightening the room.

“Thomas the Tank Engine.” I grin after swallowing a bite of cookie. “That was my favorite as a kid, too.”

“I liked him, too,” Cheyenne says.

“Yeah, I remember. I thought it was funny that a girl would beg her father to make her a train table, but you did, and he made it, and it was awesome.”

“You played with me for hours on that thing.” She smiles at the memories, and I can’t help but mirror her. The beauty of her smile is infectious. I could be having the shittiest day ever and feel better just from seeing her smile. “You know what? I think we still have that train table somewhere. Does Hudson have one already?”

I furrow my brows in thought. Out of all the things we moved here for Hudson, including a bunk bed, I don’t think a train table was one of them.

“No, he doesn’t. I don’t know why we never got him one.”

“You guys should take mine. It’s just up in our attic taking up space. A little dusting and setting up, and it should be good as new.”

“Cheyenne, we couldn’t take that from you—”

“I insist.”

I look at her in awe. She’s offering a prized childhood possession, something her father made for her by hand, to Hudson just because it’s something he would enjoy. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone this generous before.

“You would really give him your train table?

Pressing her fingers against his soft hair, Cheyenne rubs Hudson’s cowlick down and gives him a quick kiss. “Of course. He’s such a sweetheart. Every train lover needs a train table, and Dad made me the best one in the world. I’m happy to share it as long as I can come over and play with him.”

Relief floods me. Somehow I just know, without giving it any further thought, that I’m safe trusting my child to her during the day.

“How about I bring it over tonight, and you can play with it tomorrow?”

Cheyenne’s gaze snaps even with mine. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’d love it if you could start babysitting for me tomorrow. That’s not too soon, is it?”

She clears her throat, chuckling nervously. “Oh no, definitely not.” She brushes stray hairs away from her face and neck, and for a moment all I can think about is burying my face in her soft, exposed skin…

Fuck me. I’ve got to get this attraction to my new babysitter under control.

“I’m working from home, so I’ll be upstairs in my new office if you need anything,” I tell her, trying to distract myself. “When you come over in the morning, I’ll explain his schedule for the day and anything else you might need to know.”

Cheyenne nods, smiling brightly. It seems like she’s just as excited about this trade-off as I am. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m planning on paying her amply for her services and I won’t be accepting any money in return. She’s truly saving my life—my business, more specifically. I haven’t created a new app in months thanks to this divorce bullshit. If I don’t go back to work soon, my investors are going to cut me off.

Hudson is a good boy, but he’s active and a handful. I’ll still keep up my end of the bargain and take care of their house, but there’s no way I’m going to let her devote forty or more hours a week to us without getting what she deserves.

“Is eight o’clock okay?” she asks, seeming a little bit timid. She’s going to learn over the next few weeks that she doesn’t need to be afraid to ask me for anything. I’d give her the moon and then some.

“Eight is perfect.” I hold out a hand, and she shakes it. The pulse that shoots up my arm at the sensation of her touch is spellbinding. Our eyes meet, and she breaks eye contact quickly, shyly almost. I can’t tell if she’s having the same thoughts I am or if she’s just shy around men.

One thing is certain; I’m going to have to lock myself in the office tomorrow and forget about the little girl next door. The future of my company is at stake.