Page 4 of Single Dad's Hot Nanny

“Come on, man. Live a little. What’s the point of using a dating app if you’re not going to actually date who you connect with?”

I scowled at him. “I didn’t join to get a girlfriend. I joined to shut you up.” Shaking my head, I grunted my amusement. “I was sure I was going to connect with a few whack jobs and gather evidence to show you what a ridiculous idea it was.”

Lincoln chuckled diabolically. “How the tables have turned… You’re welcome.”

“I have absolutely nothing to thank you for. All I’ve done is have a few amusing back-and-forths with some woman who could be an alien pretending to be human for all I know.”

Lincoln snorted. “Quite the imagination you have there, Mike.”

“Well, I have a six-year-old…”

“There’s no harm in meeting her once. Arrange a meeting in a public place, and if she turns out tonotbe an alien imposter, feel her out and see if she is who she says she is. If you get a bad vibe, you don’t have to see her again. No big deal. You’ve been single forever,” he added. “You need a little love in your life, man.”

“I’ve got plenty of love in my life, and I happen to like being single,” I said. “It’s peaceful.”

“Not every relationship ends in disaster.”

My eyebrows elevated. “Look, I appreciate that you care about my love life—or lack thereof—but it’s not just about me. I have to think about my daughter.” She was a major factor in my reluctance to date. Why bring a woman into Poppy’s life only for her to get abandoned again?

“Of course you do, and I get that,” Lincoln said. “But you’re just meeting this woman foronedate, not a goddamn walk down the aisle.”

I opened my mouth to argue but closed it. A part of me did want to see what Jane was like in person, beyond the witty messages. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to meet her.

“Alright, but if she turns out to be a weirdo, I’m blaming you.”

He snorted. “Stop overthinking everything and just have fun for once in your life.”

My only acknowledgement of his demand was a raised eyebrow as I dug back into my lunch. After a while, I warned, “You’d better not mention this to any of the others.” The guys would have a field day about me having to resort to an app to find a date.

Lincoln scoffed. “You’re acting like meeting someone on a dating site is a crime.”

“It’s embarrassing. Not a word to anyone.”

He shrugged. “Fine. My lips are sealed.”

3

MIA

I assessed the interior of yet another corporate office with disdain. The walls were a muted gray, decorated with motivational posters that made me want to roll my eyes.Lies. All of them. Especially the one that said “Every Accomplishment Starts with the Decision to Try.” There was an image of a sunrise. I snorted. As if starting another day in the office could lead to some magnificent, life-changing breakthrough.

That quote was a load of crap because I’d been trying my hardest for years, and I had accomplished nothing but ending up penniless, in debt, and desperate for a job that I knew would make me miserable.

My foot tapped nervously on the ugly carpet because this was my third interview this week. The first two went horribly and that tiny pessimistic part of my brain was telling me the third timewouldn’tbe the charm. However, the largely optimistic side kicked in. I’d do better with this interview for sure.

Things would get better. They already had. I’d met a man. Well, we hadn’t actually met in person yet. I’d been texting with who seemed like a decent guy on this blind dating app I came across.

Chatting with someone without the pressure and uncertainty that came with starting a relationship was perfect for me because I just got out of a bad one. I’d barely crawled out of it unscathed… mostly. However, I’ve been known to be “foolishly optimistic,” according to my mother, so I immediately went on the hunt for Mr. Right. He was out there, and maybe Michael, the guy I connected with on the app, was him.

From his messages, I gathered he was the calm, decisive type. Maybe I needed to date men like that and not impulsive, free-spirited ones like myself. It was time to try the whole opposites attract scenario to see if it was bullshit or if it actually worked.

A phone rang, disrupting my thoughts of the faceless Michael, and I glanced at the receptionist. When she placed the phone back into its cradle, she gave me a bright smile.

“Ms. Clarke, they’re ready for you.”

I stood up, smoothed my skirt, and took a deep breath. “I’m going to kill this interview…” In a good way. Not like I crashed and burned in the last two.

I did indeed kill the interview… murdered it in the worst way. It was gruesome, and yet another thing to add to my growing list of failures. Shoulders slumped and confidence back to wallowing in the dirt, I stepped outside.

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