Page 7 of Rolling with the Single Daddies

“Diego,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. “I think we should keep our relationship strictly professional. You know, employer-employee.”

He leans back. “We’re adults. If this thing between us doesn’t work out, I’m not going to get petty about it, are you?”

I fidget with my napkin, torn between the practical needs that brought me here and the lofty salary and living arrangement that gets me out from under my brothers’ roof. Not to mention, hidden from my ex, who is technically an adult, but definitely petty. “Nobody plans on making it weird. It’s about maintaining a professional distance.”

Diego’s laugh is warm and inviting. “Not to get too deep in it, but Bane promised his wife he would find happiness and not hold grudges. He basically has to be okay with this.”

I wrinkle my lips.

“And I don’t dwell on shit. Life shouldn’t have constraints. Live and let live.”

His enthusiasm is infectious, and I feel my resolve weakening. “I appreciate that, but—”

“No buts,” he interrupts, leaning forward. “Tell me, what’s your favorite way to pamper your feet?”

The abrupt change of subject catches me off guard. “Uh… Why?”

“You were a foot-fetish camgirl. Surely you took good care of your money-makers.”

We both laugh, but I might have misled him. “I haven’t quit doing my foot-fetish work yet.”

Pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket, he says, “Which money apps do you use? I’ll send the first payment now.”

I study his features. He’s not joking. My bigger concern is the patch on his jacket. He’s in my ex’s rival motorcycle club. Thesame MC all of my teammates are hooking up with. The good news there is that they’re an upstanding motorcycle club—one that does good deeds. Their membership speaks volumes.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You said you wanted to quit. I’m making sure it happens.” His tone is serious but I sense that he’s using my own words to hide his opinion of my profession.

I’ll actually miss it a little. I liked feeling desired.

Wow! That thought hadn’t ever fully manifested before. It’s icky when I think of it so directly—believing people cared about me—nope, just my feet. Anyway, in the bigger picture, I didn’t like the performance aspect with all of the requests people made to satisfy themselves, with no concern for the real me.

“I’ll wrap it up. I promise not to do any camgirl stuff at your place.”

As we order our meals, Diego keeps the banter flowing, and pries my favorite foot pampering out of me. His charm is undeniable, and I find myself relaxing despite my initial reservations.

“Then I guess you’ll be wrapping it up fast since you’ll be living with us.”

“Yeah.” According to Bane’s plan, I have two days.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” I say quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Actually, thatsounds perfect.”

Diego studies me for a moment, his green eyes searching. “You’re holding something back, aren’t you?”

“This is a big move. A lot to think about with my kiddo and all.” At the thought of my baby, my milk threatens to let down. Shit.

Diego leans back, a satisfied smile on his face. “So, tell me about your little one. I can’t wait to meet her.”

The genuine interest in his voice catches me off guard. I find myself opening up, sharing stories about my daughter’s first smile, her favorite lullaby, the way she scrunches her nose when she’s about to cry.

There’s something undeniably authentic about Diego, a quality that resonates deeply with me. His kindness, too, shines through in every interaction.

By the time dessert arrives, I’m feeling both excited and apprehensive about my new situation, and my breasts are more full than my belly. I really need to get home.

Diego’s presence is intoxicating, but beneath the excitement, a nagging voice reminds me of the risks, of the secret I’m keeping from him. I need to live with him to hide from my ex. Not a great selling point for being Bane’s nanny.

---