Page 50 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar
And I’m definitely okay—sorta, mostly—with the fact that Dane clearly isn’t interested in pursuing anything beyond polite small talk and co-parent-style logistics.
Totally. Fine.
Except for the part where I still dream about him. And the way he looked at me like I was made of stars.
But this isn’t about me. It’s about Alex.
And if I have to swallow my pride, walk into that office, and talk to Dane about his son’s weirdly high-calorie needs without melting into a puddle of awkward attraction?
Then so be it.
God help me.
I mean, I’m a big girl. I know when to move on when a guy’s not interested.
And he’s not.
Well, I mean, I don’t think he is interested in me, I mean.
Dane has done nothing to suggest otherwise.
Okay, well, maybe he kinda has.
Like the times he lingers.
Stares just a little too long.
Like he’s trying to memorize me. Or maybe trying not to.
And okay, my hormones are traitors because they keep whispering that he wants me, even when his mouth is saying things like “Please make sure Alex wears sunscreen,” or “Do you need the Costco card?” and “Let’s all cook dinner together tonight.”
Which brings me to now.
See, I’m concerned. Not about my job. I mean, this is exactly what I want to do and I’m loving my time with Alex.
That child is a sunshine storm.
Smart as a whip, emotionally intuitive, and endlessly energetic.
He’s in swim class three mornings a week, karate on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and somehow also plays indoor soccer every Saturday.
I’m winded watching him, and I’m not exactly sedentary.
But here’s the thing.
The kid is always hungry.
I mean, black-hole-level bottomless pit hungry.
If I didn’t witness with my own eyes how much Dane feeds him—and I mean full, nutritious meals with actual vegetables and plenty of protein—I’d honestly think the man was starving his son.
Which he’s not. Not even close.
Dane’s a wonderful father.
I see it in every way he looks at Alex.
Every storybook he reads, even when he’s obviously exhausted.
