Page 42 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar
The hallway is surprisingly cozy.
Family photos—well, mostly of Alex, a few with Dane’s broody smirk—line the walls alongside adorable kid art.
Crayon masterpieces.
Tiny handprints.
A wonky macaroni frame.
It’s homey.
Lived-in.
Sweet.
And suddenly, my chest aches a little.
This is what I’ve always wanted.
Not just a job. Not just a paycheck.
But this.
A family. A purpose. A place.
But it isn’t mine. And I have to remember that.
“This’ll be your room,” Dane says, pushing open a door and stepping aside.
“Fresh linens, stocked closet, and a small desk in the corner in case you need to study or whatever.”
He clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck in that hot boy move that makes his biceps bulge, practically shredding his sleeve.
“You okay?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. It’s, I mean, your place is really nice.”
It’s embarrassing because I’ve been here before, but of course, I didn’t see any of this.
Even more, I mean it.
The place is great.
It’s bigger than I expected, soft colors and clean space.
A little basket of toiletries waits on the dresser like someone thought of everything.
There’s even a small window seat with cushions.
“I had someone come in yesterday to freshen things up,” he says, not meeting my eyes.
I have to tell myself to calm down. That this wasn’t for me. Because he didn’t know the nanny was me until he opened the door.
Still, it’s nice. And I can’t help but swoon a little.
“Tamare,” he begins, but before he can say anything more, Alex bursts in like a wrecking ball.
“Daaaaad! Is it time yet?”
