Giddy Up, Daddy (Dirty Daddies 2024 Anthology #5)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Elle

“So, here are the classifieds that have come in this week.” Ashlynn, who is at least a decade younger than me—and by her own admission was hired here straight out of high school—thumbs through a message pad where customers have scribbled the details of their classifieds as they place them. “Now, all you need to do is type them out, bold the headlines, check the spelling, sort them into the appropriate categories, and compile them into one document. When you’re done, save it under Classifieds with Tuesday’s date and send it to Jeffrey. It’s just Jeff at the herald dot com. If you need to email anyone else here, it’s just the same format. And here’s your email login info.” She taps a post-it stuck to my desk, then grins. “Think you can handle that?”

I nod, so thankful I didn’t get stuck in a waitressing job. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. This I can do.

“Great.” Ashlynn grins at me. “When you’re done with that, come find me, and we’ll go over the different columns and stuff and the writers and the deadlines. It will be your job to kind of keep things organized as they come in.”

She walks away, leaving me alone, and I glance around. Newspaper offices are supposed to be bustling, but this one feels pretty dead.

Taking this job, even though it pays pennies, is just step one of turning myself into who I want to be. In letting my Dad and myself know that I do have something to offer, and it’s not just a pile of money that I earned simply by being born with his last name.

Have I convinced myself I can afford to give up my trust yet? No, but I’m working on it.

“Okay, let’s see.” The office is so quiet, I talk to myself as I pull up the first classified and type out the information. Someone is selling fresh goat milk. I choke back a gag, but type up the details, edit the ad, place it in the appropriate section, and move on to the next one. The Rose Center, a halfway house of sorts that’s actually named for Sadie—long story—is hosting a community open house for people to tour their facilities, learn about their programs and meet some of the residents. I type it up, then put a reminder in my phone to go, just to support Elle and Mack.

The third ad note stops me in my tracks. The name on the top twists my gut. Nate Bowery. I didn’t even know that was Nate’s last name, but this is him. He’s looking for a full-time, live-in nanny and housekeeper for his baby girl.

The knife in my gut twists. They’ve moved on so quickly. I wasn’t expecting that. All of a sudden, I’m questioning everything, even being here, doing this. My upcoming journey of self-improvement. All of it seems for naught as I force my fingers to type the words on the paper. I feel nauseous as they appear on the screen.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe none of it was real. Maybe they were just caught up in the moment. But there’s no time for my existential crisis, because I’ve got work to do and even though I may be questioning everything, as of right now, this plan is the only one I’ve got.

Bo

The new nanny is a teenager whose parents got thrown in jail on her 18th birthday, as part of the whole trafficking scandal that tore the town apart. She's nineteen now, and her choices are the live-in nanny job or the group home for teenagers who are in the same situation as her.

I wanted to hold out for someone else, maybe one of the new-to- town beauties, or a retired schoolteacher, but Nate is a bit of a bleeding heart, and Angelica did come with piles of experience and good references.

Besides, I have selfish reasons for not fighting him. We both agreed not to give up on Elle and part of that was to get this position filled so she wouldn’t feel like we were only interested in her due to an ulterior motive.

Besides, having a built-in babysitter does give us more time to focus on winning Elle back. The problem is we have no idea how to do that. I’ve texted her a few times, sent an email, no response. We haven’t tried talking to Sadie again, because the first time was so disastrous and we feel terrible for putting her in that position.

So now we’re sitting here at the Dutch Diner, over plates of burgers and fries discussing our strategy.

Spoiler alert: We don’t have one.

“Flowers?” Nate asks.

I roll my eyes. “Too cliche. Impersonal.”

“Candy?”

“How is that any better?”

Nate scowls. “I don’t hear you coming up with anything.”

I sigh. The problem is simple. We put off really getting to know Elle because we thought we would have time to get to know her. And now we have no idea how to woo her. Or how to get her to even talk to us.

I angrily bite a french fry. This feels impossible. Are we overthinking it? Should we just show up on her doorstep with some romantic speech where we lay it all out on the table? I’m not opposed to doing that, but I’d like to get to a point where I’m at least certain she’d open the door to hear it. I don’t even have that yet.

“This is dumb,” I grumble. “We don’t even know her. What were we thinking?”

Nate frowns. “What happened to my confident, self-assured Daddy? The one who trusts his gut and works hard for what he wants?”

“Yeah, what happened to that guy?” A voice cuts in, and I jerk my neck in time to see Sadie sliding into the booth beside me. She steals a fry on my plate and takes a bite, then twirls the uneaten part between her fingers.

I frown. “I figured you wanted nothing to do with us after that last encounter.”

“Nah.” She shrugs. “I was annoyed, but mostly because I had no idea what was going on.” She takes another bite of the fry, then admits, “She stopped talking after your guys’ date. Wouldn’t return my calls, wouldn’t text…”

I’m a bastard, but that almost makes me feel better. At least it wasn’t just us.

I frown at Sadie. “Should we be worried?”

As I’m inwardly berating myself for what a stupid question that is, she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. She’s better now, or she’s getting there.”

“Okay, good.” I nod and my panic settles, but it doesn’t solve my problem.

Sadie steals another fry, and I give her the side-eye, wondering why she slid into our booth in the first place. We’re acquaintances, and I like her and all, but we aren’t like friends . At least not the kind of friends who randomly join your table without an invitation. I’m still not sure why she’s here.

I'm trying to figure out how to ask when she tells me. “I’ve talked to her now, of course. I understand what’s going on.”

“Any chance you’ll fill us in?” I ask hopefully.

She bites the fry, then points the bottom half at me. “No. But, I will answer questions.”

Interesting. Nate’s eyes meet mine and we have one of the silent conversations we’re known for.

She doesn’t have to break confidence that way.

If we ask the right questions.

This feels like a really good sign.

I agree. We can’t mess this up.

I get straight to the point. “Are we wasting our time?”

“I don’t think so.”

It’s not a no, but it's not a yes either. So, it’s complicated. That's unsurprising when I think about it, so I continue.

“How do we woo her?” Nate asks at the same time I say, “What does she need?”

Sadie raises one eyebrow and answers me first. “She needs to know that she has value, and honestly, she needs stability. Someone or someones who can offer those two things. But also…” Sadie grins. “She’s always going to be a bit of a princess, and she needs to be allowed to do that.” She looks at Nate. “Same answer.”

It’s a roundabout answer. It says a lot while saying nothing at all. The answers aren't really the ones I was expecting, but I think I can work with them. An idea hits me and I jump up in excitement, open my wallet and throw a few bills down on the table to cover our lunch and a very generous tip.

“Thank you, Sadie.” I grab her face and kiss her cheek, before running out the door, with Nate running behind me yelling “What’s going on? What just happened?”