Page 10 of Single Daddy Doctor Dreamy

For a moment, the air between us feels charged again, like it did on the dance floor. Like it did during that kiss. Joel’s eyes hold mine, and I wonder if he sees the cracks I try so hard to hide. His hand shifts slightly on the couch, as if he’s debating whether to close the space between us, but then he pulls back, his expression unreadable.

“You’re great at the nanny thing and I’m sure something more in your wheelhouse will come around eventually,” he says finally, his voice low but steady.

I swallow hard, his words settling in my chest. “Thanks, but I don’t plan to abandon you any time soon,” I whisper, though I’m not sure he realizes how much I mean it.

We sit in silence for a while longer, the rattle of the refrigerator and the faint creak of the house filling the quiet. It’s not uncomfortable, though. It’s… grounding, in a way I didn’t expect.

When I finally head to bed, my mind is a swirl of thoughts.

4

JOEL

The hospital corridors thrum with the familiar blend of beeping monitors and hurried footsteps. I’m usually in my element here, immersed in work, head clear, and emotions neatly tucked away. Today, however, my thoughts are a chaotic mess, orbiting around one person: Lucy Harper.

Colleagues have been relentless, their sly comments and insinuations about my new "live-in nanny" peppering every conversation. It’s irritating, but worse, it’s distracting. Dr. Rivkin, as always, has taken it up a notch, his thinly veiled barbs about propriety and favoritism laced with malice. It’s as if he’s been waiting for an opportunity to knock me down a peg.

Pushing the door open to Exam Room 3, I steel myself. Focus, Joel. This is your domain. Not the incessant gossip mill, not Lucy. Definitely not Lucy, I remind myself for the thousandth time.

The patient’s case is straightforward—a broken wrist from a weekend hiking accident. I plaster on my professional demeanor, but even as I explain the treatment plan, my mind drifts to the kiss we shared at the festival. Lucy’s laughter fromthat chaotic breakfast this morning. The way Miles and Finn looked at her like she hung the moon. The way… No. Stop.

I’m signing the discharge papers when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see her name on the screen.

Lucy: "I’m here. Got something to drop off. Where are you?"

My pulse picks up, and I scold myself for it. It’s just Lucy. She probably forgot a kid’s lunch or needs me to sign something. Nothing more.

Me: "Third floor, near the nurses’ station."

I tuck my phone away and finish up with the patient.

By the time I’m back at the nurses’ station, Lucy’s vibrant blonde hair is visible from across the hall. She’s chatting with one of the nurses, her easy laughter drawing smiles from everyone around her. I’m struck, not for the first time, by how effortlessly she lights up a room.

"Joel!" she calls, waving as she crosses the hall toward me. She’s holding a small paper bag, and her smile is as bright as ever. "I brought you lunch. I figured you’d forget again."

I glance at the bag, then at her, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my chest. "Thanks. You didn’t have to."

She shrugs. There’s a bit of a smirk on her face and a glimmer in her eyes. "I’m your nanny. Nannies bring lunch, right?"

"Anytime," she says, her gaze lingering on me a moment too long. It’s in that charged silence that the air shifts. We’re no longer just Joel and Lucy—doctor and nanny, single dad and free spirit. There’s something else here, unspoken but undeniable.

"Come with me," I say, the words out before I’ve fully thought them through. Her brows lift in curiosity, but she follows without question.

I lead her to the storage room at the end of the hall. It’s quiet, secluded, the sounds of the hospital muffled behind the thick door. Once inside, she sets the lunch bag on a shelf and looks at me expectantly.

"Joel? What are we…”

I’m on her before she finishes the question. My lips crash against hers, and for a moment, the world falls away. She tastes like mint and sunshine, and I’m utterly lost.

Lucy’s gasp melts into a moan as she leans into me, her hands clutching my lab coat. My mind screams that this is again, a terrible idea, that we’re crossing lines we can’t uncross, but my body doesn’t listen. I press her against the shelf, my hands finding her waist, her hair, anything to anchor me in this whirlwind of sensation.

The kiss quickly deepens as Lucy melts into me. Her hands lift to grip my shirt, pulling me closer as my other hand slid around her waist, anchoring her to me. The world tilts, the tiny supply closet disappearing until there is nothing but the heat of her mouth, the steady press of her body against mine, and the way her heart pounded like a drum in her chest.

When I finally pulled back, we are both breathless, my forehead rests against hers. Lucy’s fingers curled into the fabric of my scrubs as she fights to catch her breath.

“That was…” she starts, her voice shaky.

My lips curve into a smirk, though my gaze is still dark with desire. “Even better than the last time?”

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