Page 16 of Military Daddies' Nanny

"Drew, man, she's thirteen," I point out, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice entirely. "She's going to start being interested in all that 'adult' stuff whether you like it or not. You can't stop her from growing up."

He scowls at me, clearly not loving my rational take on the situation. Drew has always liked being in control, a side effect of his time on active duty, and the idea of his little girl getting older is not something he seems ready for.

"I know that," he growls. "I just don't want to encourage it. There's no need to rush things."

"There's also no need to go overboard in the opposite direction and completely shut it down," I argue. "That's only going to make her rebel more. Trust me, I've seen it happen."

Being an orphan who grew up in the system, I've witnessed plenty of kids act out when their parents or guardians were too overbearing about things like dating, makeup, or just general teenage interests. It never ended well and typically resulted in a whole lot of screaming matches and hurt feelings.

"Nancy is just trying to help Bella ease into that stage of her life in a healthy way," I continue. "You hired her as a nanny, so you've gotta let her do her job, man."

Drew doesn't look convinced, his brow furrowing in that stubborn way I know so well. We've been buddies since our days in the service together and he hasn't changed one bit in that regard. Luckily, I also know how to handle him when he gets like this.

"Look, how about this?" I suggest, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let Nancy do her thing with Bella. Take the hands-off approachfor once in your life. If it gets out of hand or goes somewhere you're not comfortable with, then you can put your foot down. But don't go pouring water on the fire before it even gets lit, you know?"

Drew is silent for a few long moments, weighing my words. Finally, he blows out a long breath and gives a curt nod of his head.

"Fine," he relents gruffly. "I'll try to give her some space to work with Bella. As long as it doesn't get crazy."

"There ‘ya go!" I crow in approval, hiding my smirk. "Compromise, just like old times."

He shoots me a withering look, not at all amused by my joking tone. Drew has always been too tightly wound for his own good, even back in our training days. Luckily for him, I'm an expert at getting him to unwind, whether he wants to or not.

The sound of clattering pots and pans drifting in from the kitchen reminds me of Nancy's presence. I feel a sudden urge to go poke my nose in and get to know this feisty new addition to the household better.

From what I've seen so far, she's not going to let Drew's stubbornness push her around. I have a feeling the two of them are going to butt heads quite a bit, and I definitely want a front-row seat for the show.

"C'mon, let's go see if Nancy needs any help with dinner," I suggest, hauling myself up off the couch. "Can't resist the chance to get a closer look at the woman who has you so stressed out."

I don't give Drew a chance to protest before striding off toward the kitchen, grinning to myself as I hear his telltale grunt of annoyance from behind me.

This is going to be fun.

The kitchen is a raucous scene of pots and pans when I arrive. Nancy is a whirlwind of motion, her hair tied up haphazardly as she moves from counter to stove to fridge, gathering ingredients. I pause in the doorway, content to simply watch her work for a few moments while she is oblivious to my presence.

She moves with an effortless grace, her body swaying subtly to some inner rhythm as she cooks. Despite the clear frenzy of activity, there is an unmistakable peacefulness about her movements too.

Watching her work captivates me. There is just something about a woman completely in her element that is incredibly attractive. My eyes trace over the swell of her hips and the curve of her waist, admiring the way her simple cotton dress clings to her soft, feminine shape.

"Need an extra pair of hands in here?"

The words slip out before I can reconsider, my voice breaking the rhythm of her movements. Nancy spins toward me, those green eyes going wide again for just a split second, before a bright smile lights up her face.

"Carlos! I didn't see you come in," she says warmly. "But you're more than welcome to join if you really don't mind lending a hand."

"Mind? Darlin', I'd be delighted," I assure her with an easy grin, sauntering further into the kitchen.

I come up beside her at the counter, giving an exaggerated sniff of the simmering pots. "Something smells amazing already. Whatcha got cooking?"

"Just some soup and bread to start," she replies, handing me a knife and gesturing to a pile of vegetables waiting to be chopped. "Think you can handle chopping up those veggies for me?"

I feign mild offense as I take up the knife, getting to work. "Please, I'll have you know I was the best chef in my entire platoon back in the day," I boast with a wink. "The guys used to fight over who got to be my kitchen assistant."

That draws another peal of that bright, melodic laughter from her that makes my chest feel all warm.Yeah, this woman is something else.

"Is that so?" Nancy asks, her tone dripping with amusement. "Well then, I'll be sure to take good notes from the master chef."

We fall into an easy back-and-forth banter as we work side-by-side in the kitchen, my military stories steadily growing more ridiculous and exaggerated.

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