Page 16 of Sexy Bad Daddy

Chapter Five

ERIN

The meeting didn’t go well. Danny drooled over him like an overzealous fangirl, Garrett made snarky comments about Danny and I hitting the sheets together, and then Danny asked him to sign his balls. I shooed him out the door at that point and vowed to avoid any future situations where the two of them might be in the same vicinity.

Over the next couple of weeks, Garrett made it increasingly clear he isn’t a fan of Danny. “You could do way better than him,” has practically become his catchphrase. I’ve almost blurted, “I know” a dozen times, but I don’t want him to know I’m single, because I don’t want to be tempted by what he’d probably offer.

Now Garrett’s off to some golf tournament on the other side of the country. He’d warned me that he’d often be gone for a week at a time, because tournaments are a professional golfer’s life. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this arrangement makes me the person who ensures he maintains a relationship with his daughter, even when he’s on the road.

Each evening at bedtime, he calls my cell to check in on Abby. “We went to the zoo,” I’ll say. Or, “She wanted to practice hitting balls, so I took her to the club.” I can hear the pride in his voice as he asks if her swing is improving or if she beat her last distance. I’m learning about golf and I don’t even mind, because it makes him so happy that I can have an intelligent conversation about both of his greatest loves.

And then I hand the phone over to her, and I have no idea what he says, but she always dissolves into giggles. On the second evening, she asked me to read her a bedtime story while he was on the line. So I put him on speaker and read Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? After kissing her good night, I slipped out of the room and headed to the kitchen, where I grabbed a beer from the fridge and continued chatting with Garrett, who hadn’t been in any hurry to disconnect the call.

And we’ve been doing the same thing every night since.

It’s like we’re friends, but damn it, we’re supposed to be employee and employer. I’m here for his daughter, not him. Despite this, tonight, after Abby’s in bed and we’re still on the phone, I ask, “Why do you wear those crazy outfits when you play?”

“It gets into my opponent’s head and screws with their game. I’m not opposed to playing dirty if it gets me what I want.”

Now I’m thinking about playing with Garrett’s balls, except we aren’t on a golf course and there’s a distinct lack of clothing. “Which ridiculous outfit are you wearing today?”

He chuckles. “Actually, I’ve already showered and changed into a pair of shorts.”

“Just shorts?” Damn it, why did I ask that? I don’t really want to know. Well, yes, I do, but I shouldn’t want to know.

“Yep. Want me to send you a pic?”

Do I ever. Which is wrong, so very wrong. And he doesn’t help when he adds, “So, what are you wearing?”

I want to be wearing him instead of this T-shirt and capris.

But I can’t jeopardize this job. I like Abby too much. Hell, I like him too much. I like the verbal sparring as much as I like the light flirtation, and I really like the way his voice gets all low and husky when we talk after I’ve tucked the little one into bed.

Clearing my throat, I say, “I should probably let you go. If you’re coming home tomorrow, I need to change the sheets on your bed.”

“I don’t know why you convinced me to let the housekeeper go. I didn’t expect you to take care of my house as well as my kid when I hired you.”

I shrug, even though he can’t see the action. “It’s par for the course,” I say, just because I want to hear him chuckle at my using one of his favorite golf analogies. “But, seriously, most of my nanny gigs expected me to keep up the house, too. And I like to be in charge of stuff. If I don’t get to control my surroundings, I’ll likely start telling you what to do. So really, this works out for all of us.”

“You’re probably right. I’m not good at following directions. Unless, of course, the reward is worth the trouble.”

Is it just me, or do our conversations always sound like double entendres?

***

Garrett’s on his way home, and per Abby’s request, I’ve made what she insists is his meal of choice for dinner. He texted a short while ago, letting me know his flight landed, and he’s heading our way as soon as he gathers his clubs and luggage.

“You sure this is your daddy’s favorite meal?” I ask the toddler who’s been helping me prepare a welcome home dinner.

Abby nods enthusiastically from her perch kneeling on a barstool next to the kitchen island.

“Steak, macaroni and cheese, and applesauce.”

“Yep,” she reiterates.

“Okay. We’re going with it.” I lift the bottle of wine I’d meant to save for the steak. I’ve managed to down half of it while preparing dinner, nervous over seeing him again. Which is stupid. Why am I nervous?

My phone chirps.

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