Page 38 of Falling for the Single Daddy

“No, it was nothing like that.” He chews the inside of his cheek, suddenly looking almost boyish.

I take one of his hands in both of mine, eager to offer him comfort. He sighs and shakes his head slowly.

“It was a one-night stand,” he tells me. “It was a serious mistake. I was drunker than I’d been up until then… or I’ve been since. She was stone-cold sober. She bragged about it after. She managed to get me to bed and somehow managed to make me, well, you know. I was sick with myself the next day. Wes’ssister? I’ve known Wes since we were kids. We’ve been friends forever. I hated myself. But I figured, one night. We can call it a mistake and move on. But then she came to me and told me she was pregnant.” He shudders.

“Oh, Gray,” I whisper. “You can’t beat yourself up. Everybody makes mistakes.”

I don’t tell Gray this, but part of his story actually makes me feel relieved.There was no love. There was no affection. There was nothing real between them, ever. That means—what, exactly? What am I thinking? It means that one day if he ever feels something for me, it’ll be as much his first time as it is mine. It means that this connection isn’t just new for me. It means that, on some warped level, he’s a virgin, too—an emotional one.

“And,” I go on, “you were extremely drunk and she was sober? That doesn’t sound right.”

“Tell me about it.” He groans. “I don’t know why she did it—we did it. I sayshejust because it doesn’t even feel like something I did. Anyway, when she told me she was pregnant, I was forced to tell Wes what had happened. Honestly, it felt good lifting that weight. He was livid. He didn’t talk to either of us for months. But then Emery arrived. Sloane freaked, but I did it anyway—I got a paternity test.”

I can practically feel his pain. I squeeze his hand even harder, telling myself I’m just the nanny offering her employer some support. But that’s crap. We both know it. No nanny would ever behave this way with her boss if something weren’t growing between them.

“It was hard to do that,” he goes on. “I already loved Emery, but I had to know she was mine. She was—she is. So I told Sloane I was willing to try and make a family out of the three of us. For a few months, she did her best. But then she got bored, and she left. It sounds wrong, Callie, but I wasrelievedwhen she went. I was much happier with it just being me and Emery. Sure, Sloane would visit from time to time, but never with any serious intent. I was happy it being just the two of us until…”

He looks down at me. He’ssmolderingwith emotion and desire. I’m getting a little too good at reading him to be able to tell myself any different. He slides his hand up my arm, to my shoulder, then finally to my face. He cradles my cheek, his warmth sinking into me.

Stop, I almost say, as he leans down.We can’t keep doing this.

But I don’t have the courage to produce the words. Instead, I meet him halfway, pressing my lips against his. This is our most emotional kiss yet. I don’t know how I can tell the difference.It feels more intense, but not in a steamy way, not like he’s hungrily claiming me so that he can move on to the next step.

I know what it is. We’re kissing for kissing’s sake. He groans as our tongues meet each other, cradling my face in both hands now, his passionate noises sounding like pure possession. And, even if I’ve run from it my entire life, I want to be possessed. By him. If only for a moment.

The kiss keeps going, my entire body blooming with heat, my cheeks feeling like they’re on fire with his touch.

I only stop when I hear footsteps approaching. I lean back just in time for Emery to appear on the back porch. The last thing we need is her catching us together. I think she’d be happy, and that would be wrong. What if this doesn’t work out? What if I have to leave? She’s already been abandoned once.

“C-A-L-L-I-E,” she says. “Can you make me a story, please?”

I smile. “Sure, Emery. Which one would you like me to read?”

“No, notread.” She giggles, sounding so stinking cute. For a crazy, unbelievable moment, I imagine her leaning over a crib, laughing at a baby, her brother or sister—my child. I actually rub my eyes as if to dispel the image. What’s wrong with me? “Makeme one.”

“Make…”

“You’re really clever, Callie.” She walks over. “I bet you could make the best story ever. And, and…” Her speech speeds up in tandem with her excitement. “And maybe Daddy, you can act out what she’s telling. It’ll be like the TV, only way better because it’s Callie and Daddy!”

After the evening she’s had, there’s no way either of us is going to say no.

***

Emery lies in her big bed, the skylight letting in swathes of moonlight and starlight. She’s got the covers pulled up around her chin, her little face brimming with joy as she looks over at me. Gray stands just behind me, ready to act out whatever I say. This whole thing feels very family-like. Like I’m her mother. And if I were, I’d never treat her the way Sloane did. It’s a dangerous thought. It all feels far too natural.

It's just a job—I’m just a nanny.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

“Once upon a time, there was a princess who lived in abigcastle,” I say.

Emery giggles. “Are you a princess, Daddy?”

He chuckles. “I’m doing my best.”

“This princess—”

“What’s her name, Callie?”

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