Page 17 of Falling for the Single Daddy

I laugh awkwardly. “I’m a nanny.”

“But what do you want to do? Have you always dreamed of being a nanny?”

The only dream I can ever remember having is wanting to be free, wanting to close my eyes without thinking that some weird cult ritual would start, hooting and hollering and bright lights and masks and wicked crap. But it’s not like I can tell him that.

“I’ve always wanted to be in a caring role,” I say honestly. “I enjoy being a nanny. It’s nice to feel useful. And getting paid to spend time with this cutie pie? That’s a dream come true right there.”

Emery grins at me.

But I’ve messed up again, I realize, mentioning pay. What does this man want? It’s like he thinks I shouldn’t ever mention money, as if he believes this should be more than my job. It’s driving me nuts, especially because, so far, with Gray, everything has felt weirdly natural.

I try not to let it get to me. Instead, I focus on my ice cream, allowing the conversation to move on as Gray and Wes talk about Gray’s most recent project. As Gray speaks, I sneak glances at him. His passion is infectious. He looks younger—not that he looks old; it’s more like his maturity blends with an enthusiasm that causes the years to melt away, making him supremely appealing.

After the ice cream, Wes says goodbye, and Emery, Gray, and I drive back to the house. Emery falls asleep in the back, breathing softly. I almost want to clap my hands to wake her up so that I don’t have to be ‘alone’ with Gray. I’m almost certain he picked up on some of the awkwardness between me and Wes.

“You seem really excited about work,” I murmur, preemptively keeping the topic on something manageable.

He grins over at me with that same boyish passion. “It’s just a plaza, but I love losing myself in a project. When I’m in my office, thinking about work, it’s like nothing else matters. Not the past. Not the future. Just that one thing. It’s addictive.” He looks at the road and then glances at me, the bright glint in his eye fading slightly.

What is he thinking?

“I’m really grateful for this job,” I go on. “I’m helping my dad get back on his feet, helping with his rent. And after my last job…” I shrug. “I’m just grateful.”

No, what I’m doing isblabbing. I’m going overboard because I feel insecure about the way Wes was looking at me and the hints he was dropping. And now I’ve gone and mentioned moneyagain. But it’s not as if Gray ever thought I was doing this out of the kindness of my heart.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Gray says. “Emery made the choice. She took to you right away.”

The rest of the car ride passes quietly. I bite my lip as the urge to speak bubbles up in me. People might think I’m good at restricting my speech due to my childhood, but sometimes, it feels like the opposite. It’s as if I spent so long being quiet, now I can’t stop trying to make noise.

I guess Gray is still thinking about my confession. As we drive between the Maplebrook pines, he says, “You mentioned you needed to work for Jorge Lopez so your dad could get out of the cult. How?”

I cringe at Jorge’s name but try not to let it show. “Josh has a fee you can pay the collective if you want to leave. The thing is,Icall it a cult because he’s a controlling freak, but he’s been careful. He’s alwaysjust on the edgeof cult-like behavior. Some people there like the structure, being told what to do, not having to think for themselves. Some people like knowing that if they walk the path, keep their heads down, they’ll get a two-bedroom on the property and have dinner with Josh.”

“But not you. You were too independent.” He says this with a pride that makes warmth swell in my chest.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I murmur.

“You don’tguessso,” he says fiercely. “I can tell just by the way you talk about it.”

“I always hated it—the rules. We could only wear beige pants and sweaters until we reached a certain level. We were home-schooled, but most of our time was spent talking about Josh’s adventures and charity work overseas. They wanted us dumb.”

“How have they not been shut down?”

“They’ve been investigated several times,” I tell him with a sigh. “One of these days, they will be shut down. But I couldn’t wait until that happened to get Dad free.”

“What about your mom?”

“I begged her to let me buy her out, too. But she’s been having an affair with Josh ever since I was born. She loves him—or thinks she does. I know how nuts this all sounds. So much baggage…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he replies, as we round the corner and our gorgeous house comes into view. Oh, jeez. Notour. His house… “You’re in Maplebrook now. All of that might as well be a million miles away.”

I smile at him, his husky tone, his strong build, his easy and yet somehow complicated smirk. He’s right. Itdoesfeel distant. “Thanks, Gray.”

Chapter Nine

Gray

The next morning, before I leave for work, I stand at the back window as Callie and Emery get to work on some gardening. Emery looks in her element, leaping around but moving carefully when Callie waves a hand at her. Callie is wearing another of those floaty dresses. My body stirs as I watch her stretch her arms over her head, causing the fabric of her dress to stretch tight across her breasts. Her hair is tied back, highlighting her features. She is youthful and vivacious, her cheeks red from the morning heat.

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