She rolls her eyes. “Let me rephrase the question. Are yougoingto Mae’s birthday party this weekend?”
I waste no time in my response. “No.”
“Why not? It’s fancy dress.”
“Even more reason to say no. Besides”—my hand sweeps in the direction of the house—“Leo.”
Coach Darrell already volunteered to take care of him for a few hours in case I wanted to go to the party—he knows I don’t socialise much with my team—but I don’t want to put Leo on him again, even if he says he loves it when he visits.
Plus, parties just aren’t my speed. I’m not stress-free enough to enjoy them.
I know I’m a grump. I don’t try to deny the fact, and sure, maybe I’d like to relax once in a while and grab a beer with the guys, but with me having Leo full-time, it’s hard. The guys say they don’t mind when he tags along, but I’m constantly distracted, and it’s hard to remember the person I was before I had my son. Before the mediatried to paint me as a bad father for being a single dad and still playing football.
Still, when I’m given the opportunity to attend things like parties and forget about everything, I can’t let myself enjoy them. Probably a mix of guilt that I feel like a shit parent for not providing Leo with a stable nanny for when I’m gone, and shame that I need a nanny in the first place because his mother—if you could even call her that—and I didn’t work out.
I don’t believe I was ever even in love with the woman, but I was willing to put that aside to provide Leo with a good upbringing.
“Well, if you change your mind and want to come and enjoy yourself, I’ll be the one in the nurse’s costume.”
Fuck my life.
That’s an image I certainly did not need running through my mind. Flo—in a nurse’s costume, her lips probably painted a shade of cranberry red to match the fabric of the silky smooth dress I know she probably made herself. Her hips, hugged just right. Long legs on display.
I’ve always been a sucker for a tall woman. Being six feet two, it’s nice to look at someone in the eyes without having to give myself a crick in my neck, and long legs have always been my kryptonite.
Not allowing my mind to go there with Flo already feels like a full-time job, but with that one sentence, my nanny’s just made it a million times harder.
My mind wanders to what she’d look like beaming up at me with those cranberry lips spread in a wide grin, maybe a little smudged, hair tousled and eyes gleaming with desire for me.
It makes my dick twitch. My body doesn’t seem to understand that this woman is very much off-limits, and I really have no idea how I’m supposed to survive. It doesn’t help that, since it’s so hot, she dresses in tempting home-sewn flowy sundresses or ripped denim shorts that she’s attached flower patches to. I’ve been counting the individual petals of the roses and daisies to stop myself from letting them drift down to her legs. Admittedly, it hasn’t been working that well.
God, what would it feel like to give myself over to a woman like her for just one night?
“Over my dead body,” I say, but I’m unsure whether I’m referring to what Flo just said or my own inner monologue.
She opens the front door, releasing that husky laugh that cuts through me in the best way.
Gracie has set the table, and I slip into my chair in silence, gaze focused on my food as I eat.
“Daddy, can we get a pet?” Leo asks me as he chows down on his crispy kale—purchased from Bennett’s Uncle’s ranch and farm—sounding like a broken record. I must get that question at least once per day.
“What kind of pet, bud?”
“A dog!” he exclaims once he swallows his food, and my hope that he was finally going to change his mind and ask for a stick insect instead crumbles to the floor.
“We don’t have time for a dog, kiddo. Who would feed it? Walk it? Take it to the vet when it’s sick?”
“Me.” My son smiles angelically.
“Dog’s crap, Leo. A lot. Do you really think you’d be willing to pick up dog poop every day? It would mean no running around barefoot outside. Not to mention, when they’re young and haven’t been potty trained, they crapinthe house,” Flo chimes in, and my son blinks.
“I don’t want dog crap on my—”
“Poop,” I correct him, shooting Flo an unimpressed look, and she stifles a laugh as Gracie titters beside her. “Maybe we can think about getting a dog when you’re a little older. But for now, show me you can take good care of Donkey, and I’ll consider it for the future.”
Leo releases a small sigh, but nods in understanding, continuing to shovel the homemade coleslaw I whipped up into his mouth.
I’d love to get him a pet, and maybe I will when I retire from the Storks, but I want him to be old enough to understand that animals are a lot of responsibility, especially dogs. Children tend to lose interest in things when the novelty wears off.
