Page 18 of Curvy Nanny for the Nerd

Her smile faded into a fake innocence as she shook her head. “Me? No. Never.”

Chapter 10

Toni

Sitting in traffic on my way back to Brady and Layla felt odd. Surreal, even. I spent the entire weekend burning out half a dozen batteries to thoughts of the hot nerd whom I didn’t really know, and doing something I never do, daydream about the cutie. What in the hell kind of spell had he woven around me that I’d spent the weekend inside my apartment instead of hitting the bars and finding a hookup buddy?

“Ugh, gross,” I growled as a guy in a shiny red pickup truck flicked his tongue out at me suggestively and wiggled his brows. “I don’t think so, dirtbag.” I flipped the guy off and gunned it at the green light until he was just a speck in my rear view mirror.

The mansion looked the same as I had when I pulled away on Friday evening, putting as much distance as I could between me and Brady. That kiss had stayed with me for far too long. The truth was, it still lingered on my lips and in the deep, dark recesses of my mouth. I wanted the promise that kiss offered, but I also knew I couldn’t have it.

Wouldn’t.

It wasn’t just dangerous to my heart, it was also a professional risk.

Yeah, I couldn’t risk it, so instead I took my frustrations out on my vibrators, coming to the feel of his mouth and body on me all weekend long. Hmm, maybe I need to invest in some rechargeable devices, cuz living under the same roof with Brady days a week will give me all kinds of ideas.

“No time for that, Toni.” I gave myself a mental pep talk as I drove up the long driveway and shifted my car into park. “This is my job. Work. Not a dating site or a hookup app. Work.”

I stepped inside the house and it was relatively quiet given that a seven year old lived here. I crept inside to avoid alerting anyone—mostly Brady—to my presence. It was useless though, because halfway up the staircase the sound of small footsteps drew my gaze to the top of the steps. “Hey, Layla.”

She flashed a happy smile. “Hi Toni. I finished my story. Wanna read it?” Her expression was so eager and excited with a pinch of hesitation that it made my heart squeeze. “If you don’t want to,” she began but I stopped her.

“Of course I do. Hand it over, little girl.” I held out my hand with a grin.

“You sure?”

I nodded. “I am. Are you?”

“No,” she admitted easily.

“All the more reason you have to give it to me, then. Art is terrifying for theartiste.”

She laughed, shoving it at me before she took off, as if I could read it quick enough to give her feedback in the next five seconds.

I smiled at her retreating form and I realized that I missed Layla this weekend. She was a sweetheart who hadn’t let the world get her down, no matter how hard it seemed to try.

I made my way to my room where I took my time unpacking and tidying up the place. After a quick, hot shower, I changed into comfortable loungewear before I curled up on the bed toread Layla’s story. It was smart and engaging, and it felt as if it was written by a far more mature and experienced storyteller. I couldn’t help but cry as I came to the end of the tale.

“I have to tell her how good it is. Now.”

I rushed from my room, barefoot and disheveled, in search of the budding artist, but it seemed as if she had disappeared. “Layla!” She didn’t answer and I jogged down the stairs, searching the media room and even the pantry, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found. “Lay?”

My gaze landed on Brady at the grill with a long silver spatula in his hand. He wore a plain white t-shirt that hugged all of his muscles perfectly. His biceps bunched and flexed with every move and his back muscles danced against the shirt as he flipped burgers and steaks on the grill. “Toni, you’re home.”

Home. Had any place ever been home for me? There were plenty of places over the years where I rested my head, but none I considered home, just a place that I lived.

“I’m here,” I said with a small smile.

“Come on back.” He waved me over like we were old friends, worse, like he was happy to see me. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” I lied because you couldn’t exactly tell a man that you spent all weekend dreaming about him doing dirty, wicked things to you while your battery operated boyfriend made you come over and over again. “Yours?”

Heat flared in his eyes as if he spent the weekend doing the same thing. “Pretty similar. Hungry?”

I shook my head. “Nah, I don’t want to intrude. I was just looking for Layla.”

He arched his dark brows, lips tugged into a knowing smile. “You don’t want to know about the hockey game we attended together? Or the long conversation we had over Texas barbecue?” He shrugged. “I thought you might.”

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