Page 5 of The Stud Next Door (Frisky Business 3)
By the time I’ve finished eating, Marley’s already asleep.
I carry her to her bedroom where her crib and changing station live. I’ve become something of an expert in changing diapers quickly and without any fuss.
Marley is still sound asleep when I lay her down on the soft mattress pad of her crib. In these moments, I don’t feel like an actor performing the role of father. I am her father.
I watch her sleep, all soft sighs and tiny grasping fingers. I love this little girl so damn much.
The soft look on Jessa’s face when she held Marley flashes through my thoughts. It was almost like she loved Marley too. Like she was her own.
I shake off the thought, recognizing it for what it is—my dad brain desperately looking for a mate to help rear my child. But even I know it wouldn’t be healthy to fixate on the cute neighbor who settled my baby one time.
Talk about delusional.
As attracted as I am to Jessa, I can’t let my imagination get the better of me. Even so, I can admire her bright blue eyes and distinct freckles. I can fantasize about her full lips, how they might feel under my fingers, under my own lips.
She’s beautiful, and if I weren’t emotionally unavailable, I wouldn’t have questioned pursuing her. I would have pursued and kept pursuing until she was in my bed. But the reality is that I can’t afford any distractions right now. Not when a tiny life depends on my full attention.
You need the help.
Hayes may have had a point. I can’t stay holed up in my house as a full-time dad forever. I have to take breaks, I have to have fun, and most importantly—I have to get back to work.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I tap out a text before I can psych myself out.
If you’re interested in that nanny position, let’s talk. Would you be free for a chat tomorrow?
I press SEND. The message is direct and professional, with no indication of exactly how much I’m attracted to Jessa. And if I have any control over my libido, she’ll never know.
2
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JESSA
This is not how I expected my summer to go. You couldn’t even make this up if you tried.
The day I move into my new place, the perfect job practically falls into my lap? It’s like a dream. Or a fantasy. Maybe I should check and make sure I’m not passed out on the side of the road somewhere in Wicker Park.
And it all happened so easily.
The stud next door needs a nanny. As the oldest of six, I know a thing or two about babies. Sure, I might not have direct experience, but my mom always had her hands full, and when there are that many little ones running around, you learn to start taking care of each other.
Besides, the man didn’t know about gas bubbles, so I’m thinking I’ve got something to offer. He needs help, and I’m more than happy to provide him that service. Especially if that means I get to stare a little longer into those dreamy green eyes.
Connor Blake. Oh yeah, he’s dreamy, all right. Who has a name like that in real life?
I couldn’t get a read on whether he actually wanted to hire me or not, but his friends seemed so encouraging about the idea, that either way, he went with it. Watching the adorable baby next door would certainly be a sweet gig, not to mention that the commute would be ideal. Stumbling next door in yoga pants? Sign me up.
When we texted last night, Connor seemed a little stiff and short, communicating in brief phrases and one-word responses, but he agreed to have me over today. Whether that means this is an interview or if I have the job, I’m not quite sure. But I’ve got my fingers crossed, and my toes for good measure.
Because, let’s be honest—I wasn’t looking forward to applying and interviewing for jobs while trying to explain that I’m preparing to move to Central America in a few months. That doesn’t exactly scream, “Hire me now.”
With a huff, I toss my phone onto the bed and decide to get ready. This hair isn’t going to tame itself. And showing up to my first day (or interview or whatever it is) with an unruly mane of frizzy curls isn’t exactly the best way to start off on the right foot.
I breeze through my cute little living room, admiring my new setup. I spent all afternoon perfecting the placement of my macramé wall hanging over the pale blue velvet couch, and the retro lamp I found at a garage sale last weekend turned out to be the perfect fit.
And I was lucky to find this rental on such short notice. The fact that it’s the upstairs of an older couple’s house means that I don’t have to put my name on anything, I just hand them the money and peace out when my time comes. Not that that means I won’t do my fair share of nesting in the meantime.
