Page 7 of Single Daddy Doctor Dreamy

Lucy, of course, handles it like a pro. She loops her arm through mine, her smile dazzling as she waves to the crowd. “You’re lucky I was born for the spotlight,” she whispers, her breath warm against my ear.

“Don’t get too used to it,” I laugh, but the truth is, her confidence is infectious. With her by my side, the whispers and stares don’t feel as heavy.

The boys, oblivious to the attention, race ahead to the bounce house, their excitement palpable. Lucy squeezes my arm gently. “Relax,” she says, her tone light. “It’s a picnic, not a trial.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, but her teasing smile makes it impossible to stay tense.

We make our rounds, chatting with neighbors and colleagues. Lucy is effortlessly charming, seamlessly engaging with everyone we meet. She laughs at Mr. Cooper’s corny jokes, asks Mrs. Morales about her famous potato salad recipe, and even kneels down to compliment a little girl on her sparkly shoes. By the time we reach the food tables, it’s clear she’s already won over half the town.

Then there’s Mrs. Clarkson.

“Dr. Anderson. Miss Harper,” she says, her tone as sweet as curdled milk. Her eyes dart between us, lingering on Lucy’s arm still looped through mine. “What a surprise to see you both here… together.”

“Not much of a surprise, Mrs. Clarkson,” Lucy replies smoothly, her smile unwavering. “Joel mentioned how important this event is to the community. We couldn’t miss it.”

Mrs. Clarkson’s gaze narrows slightly. “How… admirable. Though I must say, it’s quite… unusual for a man like Dr. Anderson to have a nanny like you. They are usually older, unattractive.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Lucy beats me to it. “Oh, you’re absolutely right,” she says brightly. “I’m definitely not your typical nanny. I’m lots more fun.”

The sheer audacity of her response leaves Mrs. Clarkson momentarily speechless. I stifle a laugh as Lucy continues, “But then again, Joel and I aren’t exactly typical, are we?”

Mrs. Clarkson blinks, clearly unsure whether she’s been complimented or insulted. “I suppose not,” she says finally, her tone clipped.

“Well, it was lovely seeing you,” Lucy says, flashing one last dazzling smile before steering me away. As soon as we’re out of earshot, I let out a low chuckle.

“Lots more fun?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Am I wrong?” she counters, her grin mischievous.

“Not at all,” I admit, shaking my head. “You handled that like a pro.”

She shrugs. “Mrs. Clarkson is harmless. Passive-aggressive, sure, but harmless. Plus, it was kind of fun throwing her off her game.”

By the time we leave the picnic, I’m exhausted but oddly content. The boys are dozing in the backseat, their faces sticky with remnants of cotton candy, and Lucy is buzzing with energy beside me.

“That was fun,” she says as we pile into the car. “I think we made quite the impression.”

“Not so sure it was the right kind of impression, but we definitely left one” I say, but her confident smile tells me she’s not worried.

As we drive home, the golden light of the setting sun streams through the car windows, casting a warm glow over everything. I glance at Lucy in the passenger seat, her blonde hair catching the light in a way that makes her look almost ethereal. She’s humming softly to herself, tapping her fingers against her leg in time with the music on the radio.

This was supposed to be a practical arrangement, a way to control the narrative and keep the gossip at bay. But the more time I spend with her, the more I’m starting to wonder if pretending is going to be harder than I thought.

Her presence is intoxicating in a way I didn’t anticipate. It’s not just her looks, though those are undeniably captivating. She’s an ex-model and absolutely gorgeous, but it’s something about the way she moves through the world, fearless and full of life, drawing people in with her warmth and humor. She makes it look easy, but I know better. There’s strength beneath her smile, a resilience I can’t help but admire.

We pull into the driveway, and I turn off the engine. Lucy looks over at me, her eyes bright despite the long day. “So, how did I do back there? Being your steady girl,” she says, her tone light but sincere.

“You clearly didn’t need any help from me,” I reply honestly. “You handled everything perfectly.”

Her smile softens, and for a moment, the air between us feels charged with something unspoken. I clear my throat and step out of the car, breaking the spell.

As we unload the boys and their collection of prizes from the day, I can’t shake the nagging thought that this arrangement, practical as it may be, is going to complicate things more than I anticipated. Lucy’s confident smile as we said goodbye to thecrowd is etched in my mind, a reminder that this charade is just beginning. And if today was any indication, it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

3

LUCY

The Everwood Halloween Festival is the kind of event that makes small-town living feel like something out of a movie. The park is transformed into a kaleidoscope of orange and black, with strings of twinkling lights wrapped around tree trunks and jack-o’-lanterns grinning from every corner. The smell of caramel apples and popcorn wafts through the crisp evening air, and laughter echoes from the carnival game area.

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