Page 40 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar

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Even after our night together.

Even after sneaking out.

She’s here.

And suddenly I’m just—relieved.

That she’s safe.

That she’s real.

That she’s here.

I step back, holding the door open wider.

Barely stopping myself from dragging her inside.

“Come in,” I say, voice low, rougher than I mean it to be.

She hesitates. Eyes wide. Shoulders drawn up like she's about to bolt.

“Oh my God. This won’t work,” she whispers, shaking her head. “It’s a bad idea. I should’ve?—”

“Hey! Are you my new nanny?” Alex shouts, skidding into the room in socks and a Captain Lightning t-shirt. “Dad! She’s pretty!”

I stifle a groan.

Kid’s got no filter.

But he’s right.

She is. So fucking pretty.

“I’m Alexander Montgomery Alistair,” he announces proudly, “but you can call me Alex.”

Tamare’s brows lift and she laughs—a real laugh, soft and sweet and full of wonder.

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” she says, crouching down. “You can call me Tam.”

She squats down.

Right in front of me.

Her curves shift under that flowy top and my brain short-circuits.

But more than that?

She’s looking at my son like he’s a gift. Not a burden.

Like he matters.

And the rightness of it all slams into my chest like a freight train.

Her eyes lift, finding mine.

There’s something there.

Questions. Doubts. Maybe even fear.

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