Page 23 of Bad Nanny

“Right.” The answer was curt as he took my place in front of the coffee maker.

Every morning, after drinking his coffee, Gabriel would wake Delaney and tell her goodbye for the day. Once he came downstairs, I’d go up and help her get dressed, if needed, and do her hair. But he was just now getting his coffee, and it was time to wake her up.

“Do you want me to go wake her up?” I pointed my thumb toward the stairs. “It’s time.”

“I’ll do it.” His coffee was finally starting to drip into the mug. “I’ll get her ready too.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What happened to sticking to the routine? Besides, she likes my braids better.” The corners of my lips twitched involuntarily, betraying my effort to keep a straight face.

There was nothing I enjoyed more than getting under Gabriel’s skin to see what he’d do, and my childish comment had done it. He turned, his jaw set and his eyes...heated?

My heart did a weird little somersault as Gabriel’s gaze held mine, a spark of something intense and unspoken flickering in those deep blue eyes. All week, he’d been an icy fortress, and now here he was, looking at me like I was the last slice of pizza at a party. It was confusing, to say the least.

I felt the air between us charge with electricity, and I wanted to scold myself for reacting this way, for letting his gaze turn my knees weak, but it was like my body had its own agenda—one that didn’t involve listening to common sense.

He took a step toward me, and for a split second, I thought he might close the distance between us. My breath hitched and my nipples hardened. Was he going to kiss me again? After all the tension and awkwardness?

“Daddy?” Delaney’s sleepy voice floated down from the top of the stairs, and it was like someone had splashed cold water on my face.

Reality came crashing back down around me. I quickly straightened, pressing a hand against my chest, as if I could physically stop my heart from beating so rapidly.

Gabriel looked to the stairs, then back at me, before he stalked off to take care of Delaney. Whatever moment we’d been on the brink of vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

I busied myself with getting everything ready for Delaney’s breakfast. This wasn’t the time or place for whatever was happening—or not happening—between us.

And now I was going to have to spend the morning with him watching my every move.

I exhaled a long breath as Gabriel disappeared up the stairs to his office for a conference call. He’d been peering over the top of his laptop and following us room to room all morning. It was his house, but that didn’t make the hovering any less stifling.

His conference call had come at the perfect time—lunch. Delaney and I usually had homemade Lunchables the chef prepared and delivered several times a week. They werealways delicious, but it was Friday, and I wanted something different.

I glanced at Delaney, who was on the couch with her tablet. “Laney, do you want to help me make lunch?” She looked over at me in confusion, so I continued. “I thought we’d make little personal pizzas today. But if you want your normal lunch...”

Her tablet forgotten, she jumped up, excitement on her face. “We get to make them?”

“Yup! Go wash your hands really well, and I’ll grab all the ingredients from my place.”

While Delaney skipped her way to the bathroom, I dashed to my studio and gathered the ingredients I’d picked up from the store the night before—canned biscuits, tomato sauce, shredded mozzarella, and mini pepperonis.

Back in the kitchen, I grabbed the small step stool from the pantry and set it up next to the island. I briefly considered texting Gabriel, to ask him if he wanted to join us, but shook my head at the absurdity. He would undoubtedly squash the idea, even though he hadn’t said anything about deviating from the prepared meals.

Delaney came back and climbed up on the stool, examining the ingredients on the counter. “I love pizza! Can I put on the pepperonis?”

“You’re going to make your entire pizza.” I preheated the oven and pulled two cookie sheets out of the baking cabinet. It always surprised me that Gabriel had everything to cook and bake but had a personal chef. I guessed I’d have one too if I was a single dad with a crazy job.

“Can I make Daddy’s pizza?” She was practically bouncing in excitement as I sprayed the sheets with cooking spray and grabbed the can of biscuits.

“Your dad eats pizza?” I was joking . . . but was I really?

Delaney giggled. “Uncle Noah and Uncle Lex visit sometimes with pizza and beer. Daddy even lets me have a root beer, like I’m a grownup. But he says I always have to say the wordrootuntil I’m old.”

“That’s very important.” I held up the biscuit tube. “Have you ever been around when one of these has been opened?”

“No. I love biscuits!” The cuteness of this kid was going to kill me, if opening the can didn’t.

“We’re going to flatten them out to make our crusts. Opening these can be a little scary because it pops.” I grabbed the corner of the paper, but no matter how many times I’d done it, preparing myself to open them always made my heart beat like crazy. “Are you ready?”

“Are you scared?” She looked at the can with a wary expression.

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