Page 18 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar
But even as I nod and give answers—iced tea, churros, please—I can’t stop the old whispers in the back of my brain.
Is he offering you food because you’re fat?
Is he being extra nice to make up for the fact that you’re not a size two?
I hate those voices.
They don’t sound like me.
They sound like every fashion magazine, every dating app profile that ghosted the moment they saw a full-body pic.
Every family friend who said, “Don’t worry, you have such a pretty face.”
It’s ridiculous. He’s just being nice. Considerate.
But even in my wrap dress—the one that hugs my curves in a way that gives me some confidence—I can’t shut those thoughts down completely.
Still, something about tonight feels good.
The music drifting from the stage.
The sweet smell of roasted nuts and popcorn in the air.
The couples scattered across the lawn, some with kids curled up on picnic blankets or scribbling in coloring books.
It’s soft. Dreamy.
I always wanted to be a mom. It was the plan before the plan changed.
Before PCOS—Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome—and heartbreak and the slow realization that being single might mean shelving that dream indefinitely.
But here I am.
On a date with a man who looks like he was carved by a very dedicated thunder god.
And when our fingers brush as we reach for the same napkin, and his amber eyes meet mine with something that looks a lot like wonder?
I feel it.
That flutter.
That spark.
That thing I haven’t felt in way, way too long.
And suddenly, all those worries go right out of my head.
Chapter 6
Dane
“So, what do I call you?” I ask as I hand her a napkin, trying to play it cool even though my heart is doing something way too close to jazz hands in my chest.
What’s with all the freaking jazz hands in my life recently?
I shake my head, refusing to take the bait on that inane line of thinking.
I turn and am just about knocked on my ass by this woman I barely even know.
