Page 9 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

The kids wrangle themselves away from us and go charging back into the living room.

I take a deep breath, frustration bubbling up inside me. "Skylar Deveraux might be our only option in the short term."

Cohen is about to respond when Theo's voice cuts through the air, barely above a whisper. "Deveraux. You saidSkylarDeveraux?"

I turn to look at him, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. Theo's usually calm face has gone pale, his eyes wide and unfocused. He looks like he's seen a ghost. His gaze is locked on the ground, and for a moment, I wonder if something’s wrong.

"Yeah, Skylar Deveraux," I confirm, furrowing my brow.

Cohen nods, his expression thoughtful, as if he’s processing something behind those stormy eyes of his. "We could look into her background, see if she'd be okay temporarily nannying while we search for a more permanent solution."

I can't help but picture Skylar as I first saw her, emerging from the pool like some kind of water nymph, her long hair glistening with droplets that caught the sunlight. I clear my throat, pushing the image away. Again. "That's...not a bad idea, actually. But just temporarily."

Theo’s gaze darts between me and Cohen like he’s trying to make sense of something, but there’s a slight tension in the air that I can’t place. Something doesn’t quite add up, but I decide not to push it for now. "All right. Cohen, can you start looking into her background? I’ll give her a call tomorrow and see if she’s even interested in a temporary arrangement."

"Sure thing," Cohen says, already pulling out his phone, clearly willing to dive into whatever research he needs to do to fix this. "I’ll get right on it."

I can’t shake the feeling that we’re about to step into something much more complicated than just hiring a temporary nanny.

Chapter 4

Theo

Iblink, trying to process the bomb Austin just dropped. Skylar Deveraux. The name echoes in my mind, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions I thought I'd buried years ago.

Okay, that’s a lie. The only thing I’ve buried is my cock in her sweet, sweet pussy. At least, that's what I imagine in my late-night fantasies. And my shower fantasies. And my middle-of-the-day fantasies.

Skylar Deveraux was and will always be my dream girl.

"You guys can handle the nanny situation, right?" I manage to croak out, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. "I need some air."

Austin's brow furrows with concern. "You good?"

I force a weak smile, but it’s all I can muster. "Yeah, just...need a minute. I'll catch up with you later."

Before either Austin or Cohen can protest, I'm out the door, my feet carrying me to the back patio. The warm afternoon sun hits my face, but I barely register it. My mind is locked on one thing, one name. Skylar.

I pause and look at the quaint little building with a rustic charm that seems almost too perfect for its surroundings in the back yard. The ivy creeping up the stone walls, the slanted roof, and the wooden shutters on the windows—everything about it screams nostalgia. It feels out of place and at the same time, like it’s meant to be here, tucked just far enough away from the main house that it’s separate but still connected.

The smell of freshly cut grass mixes with the faint scent of wood and leather, taking me back to summers long gone. To simpler times, to moments when things weren’t so complicated. When I wasn’t constantly fighting the pull of a past I couldn’t escape. I was only ever fighting the desperate need to be next to her.

Could it really be her? After all this time?

I can almost hear the laughter, the voices, the way we used to talk for hours without a care in the world. Skylar and I...it was like nothing else mattered when we were together, like the world outside of that small, shared space didn’t exist. It was the only place where I felt truly free, truly myself. With her.

But then the reality sets in. Time has passed. Things have changed. People have changed. Even if my feelings haven’t.

I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the curls in frustration. "Get it together, Theo," I mutter to myself, trying to shake off the feeling gnawing at me. "It’s probably not even the same person."

But what if it is?

The thought sends a jolt through my body, equal parts excitement and terror. My chest tightens as I think of all the years that have passed, of the way my life has been a slow-motion collision course with nothing but regret and the longing for something I can’t have. Skylar. She’s been the one thing I’ve never been able to shake, the one who slipped through my fingers like sand.

I haven't seen Skylar in years, not since our families tore us apart. The memory of our last goodbye still stings. The wound is fresh, as if it happened yesterday.

I lean against the patio half-wall, my eyes never leaving the carriage house. "This is crazy," I say aloud, shaking my head. "There's no way it's her. It's too...convenient. Too perfect."

A chuckle escapes my lips, tinged with a hint of bitterness. "When has anything in your life ever been perfect, Theo?"

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