Chasing His Nanny: A dad's best friend, age gap, single dad romance (Chasing Her Book 1)

4. Bast

It’s Saturday and we’re strolling leisurely through the lush grounds of the zoo. My daughters each clutching one of Bree’s hands tightly after a morning of seeing the animals. I should be aggrieved that they are not holding my hands, but I love how they have taken to her since losing their mother. I’m also too concerned because I still haven’t mentioned the function this evening to Bree.

I smile at Hettie as she skips along, humming a tune while swinging their linked arms joyfully. Havana marches with purpose, deep in discussion with Bree about which animal is the absolute cutest.

My chest warms as I watch the easy affection between them. Bree dotes on the girls, always finding time for games, cuddles, and listening to their never-ending streams of questions, with the same amount of patience.

And they adore her in return. Hettie gravitates toward Bree’s sunny energy and intelligence, where Havana loves Bree’s humor.

When we settle on a grassy mound for a late picnic lunch, Hettie immediately claims the spot on Bree’s lap, snuggling contentedly against her as Bree strokes her soft blonde curls.

“Can we see the elephants after lunch?” Havana stands with her arms crossed, not ready for a break.

“Yes.” I place the lunch bag on the floor and hand Bree and the girls a bottle of water and food.

Havana plops down, leaning into Bree’s side as she digs into her sandwich with gusto. “I love elephants.”

“They might squirt water at you from their enormous noses,” Hettie exclaims.

“Their trunks,” I correct, but nobody is listening.

Havana giggles. “That would be funny.” She turns to me and asks, “Can they smell everything in the universe with those trunks?”

“I saw an elephant step on a car and squash it like a bug,” Hettie interrupts. “Squish.” She claps her hands together.

“Where did you see that?” I ask, concerned at what they are watching.

Bree turns and smiles. “It was a cartoon. And nobody was hurt making it.”

Hettie giggles as Bree tickles her sides. “You’re trying to get me into trouble.”

My heart clenches as I watch them and the picture they make. Sometimes it feels so natural, so right. She’ll make a beautiful mother when she finds the right man. I push away those thoughts.

One day she will. That day, my girls will be heartbroken.

Bree smiles as Hettie and Havana chat with her, and I know it’s the perfect opportunity to ask her to be my fake date.

Taking a deep breath, I meet Bree’s warm gaze and strangely, nerves suddenly flutter in my stomach.

Do it.

I clear my throat.

“You know I have a medical function tonight?” I begin, trying to keep a casual tone. “I could use a plus one to accompany me, if you’re available?”

“Me?” Her brows knit together. Her face turns a beautiful shade of red. “I can’t. I have nothing to wear. Plus, who would watch the girls?”

“Their grandparents are picking them up at five this afternoon,” I counter quickly. “I organized it yesterday when I realized how out of order I was to ask you to work on your night off.”

“You never told me.” She lets out a small huff. “And I’m fine with it.”

I press on. “Or you could help me out and come to the function.”

Havana pipes up around a mouthful of sandwich, grinning mischievously. “Are you going on a date with my daddy?”

“No,” Bree replies, aghast.

“Why not?” Havana persists.

Bree shoots me a flustered look. “It’s not a date. Your father needs a plus one. That’s all.”

“What’s a plus one?” Hettie asks, tilting her head quizzically.

“Daddy is one,” Havana explains matter-of-factly. “When he needs a plus one, it means he needs a date.”

Hettie’s face clears in understanding. “Ahh. So Bree and Daddy are going on a date.”

“No!” Bree and I protest in unison, perhaps a touch too vehemently.

My heart pounds as Bree’s gaze meets mine again, green eyes alight with some unreadable emotion.

“Why not?” I ask before I can lose my nerve.

She shakes her head adamantly. “I can’t go to your stuffy function stuff. It’s not me.”

“You went to plenty of your father’s ‘stuffy stuff,’” I counter, making air quotes.

A pained look flits across her face. “And I hated every moment.” She lets out a small sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. “It’ll be full of people whose heads are too far up their own butts.”

“Like me?” I ask with a smile.

“Yeah. Grumpy, old people.”

“I’m thirty-five years old. I’m hardly old.”

She grins. “Everyone will be old compared to me.”

I forget she’s only twenty-two years old. Some days she seems much older. She’s wiser than she gives herself credit. But then she can get on her hands and knees and play with my girls and not worry about how she looks as long as she makes them smile.

“Anyway, I don’t think I own the right attire for a posh work function.” Her sweet voice takes me out of my musing and she gives me a self-conscious shrug. “I have nothing to wear.”

Seizing my chance, I grin at the girls. “Should we go shopping then, ladies?”

Hettie and Havana shriek.

Bree’s head whips up, eyes widening almost comically, but I just wink at her. She’s not getting away that easily, not if I have anything to say about it.

“Can we buy a toy?” Hettie asks.

“And ice-cream?” Havana pushes.

“An elephant and an ice-cream?”

“Of course.”

“Dr. Havers, is that any way to show your daughters how to behave?”

“Yeah! We’re going shopping,” Havana gives Bree a big hug.

We finish lunch and take the girls around the last part of the zoo before we stroll back to the car with two very exhausted girls in our arms.

“That was sly,” Bree says after we each belt one girl each into her car seat. “You used treats on them to get to me.”

“I did.” We pass at the rear of the car. I lean low and whisper in my ear, “And call me Bast. Dr. Havers is for when you’re misbehaving.”

“Misbehaving. I’m a good girl.” Her eyes widen. Her face goes crimson as she realizes what she’s said, and what I said.

“Are you?”

A ripple runs down her throat as she rushes past me and gets into the passenger seat, dragging the seat belt over her body.

I smile as I get into the car.

“Let’s get Bree some clothes.”

“Thanks for letting the girls stay over. We know how hard it is for you after...” James, my father-in-law, pauses, his brown eyes staring into mine with apprehension. “And it’ll help Marie. She still struggles to this day.”

My heart clenches at the reminder of how deeply my wife’s death two years ago affected her mother. Marie gives a small, pained smile.

“I’m sure, and the girls will love it,” I reassure them. “They’ll keep you occupied.”

James laughs. Marie stands as Havana and Hettie come barreling into the living room, dragging their miniature suitcases behind them with grunts of effort.

“Mine has all the toys!” Havana announces proudly.

Hettie rolls her eyes at her sister. “It’s not fair because mine has our clothes.”

“Sharing suitcases. That’s a clever idea.” James chuckles, ruffling Havana’s hair affectionately before he takes Hettie in his arms and kisses her cheek. “We’re going to get ice-cream on the way.”

They’ve already had one ice-cream today and I should put a stop to another, but when Hettie and Havana look at me with their big blue eyes that mirror their mother’s, and wait for me to agree, I can’t.

“Only if Daddy agrees,” Marie says.

“Dad—“ Havana says, then looks behind me and her mouth falls opens. “Bree, you look like a princess.”

When I turn to see her, the air rushes from my lungs in an audible whoosh.

She looks ... exquisite.

The slinky red dress I bought her today hugs her curves in all the right places. The thin threads of shimmering silver weave through the fabric, catching the light.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the seductive hint of cleavage peeking through the balconette neckline. As she moves, the asymmetrical tulle skirt flutters around her toned legs, the layered fabric swishing with every step as she nears me.

Verdant eyes hold mine as she stops in front of me and I have to clench my fingers against my palms to stop myself from reaching out to her.

“Do I look okay?”

Not okay.

Beautiful...

Stunning...

Exquisite.

“You look like a fairy queen,” Hettie declares in an awed whisper.

I couldn’t agree more. “She does.”

Bree flashes me a timid smile, cheeks pinking adorably as she smooths one hand down the clingy material. “Thank you. I think I’m going to break my neck in these shoes, though.”

She takes a tentative step in the towering silver heels, teetering slightly, and my gaze shamelessly drops to admire her shapely calves. When my eyes drift back up, I’m stopped from openly ogling her by the sight of James and Marie both studying me with eerily identical, inscrutable expressions.

Marie’s lips curve into a practised smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Have an enjoyable night.”

There’s an awkward pause where the weight of her pointed look hangs heavily in the air between us. I shift uncomfortably, heat creeping up the back of my neck.

Clearing my throat, I take Havana and Hettie in my arms, balancing my girls as I give them a cuddle. “Thanks and behave yourselves.”

“Of course, Daddy,” Havana says.

“We’ll get going,” James says, lifting his wrist to see the time, “before the traffic starts.”

“Have a lovely time.” Bree kisses Hettie on the cheek and then Havana.

“We will,” Hettie replies.

I need just one moment to calm my racing heart and walk my girls to the car and help them get inside. But when Bree stands beside me as I wave goodbye, it does nothing to help with the way my body is responding to her.

Be professional.

I need to remember Bree is my best friend’s daughter.

I also need to remember she is far too young for me.