Chapter Eleven
Fletcher
Somehow, I manage to sneak back into my bedroom without waking any of the children.
I also fall asleep quickly. Two miracles in one?
My luck can't be that powerful. Thoughts of Jennifer naked plague my slumber, so yes, my good fortune has disintegrated.
My dreams involve her writhing beneath me, shouting my name while I fuck her.
Despite my tortured sleep, I still awaken refreshed.
A bloody fantastic shag will do that to a bloke.
I drag myself downstairs at half-past six, hoping the children haven't noticed my tardiness.
The smell of bacon and eggs hits me as I round the corner into the kitchen, and I stop dead in my tracks.
Jennifer stands at the stove, her hair twisted up in a messy bun, wearing jeans that hug her curves in all the right places and a billowy peasant blouse that for some reason arouses me even more.
She's humming cheerfully as she flips bacon, completely at ease in my kitchen.
The sight sends heat straight to my groin and brings back vivid memories of last night.
I keep a discrete distance between us as I say, "Morning, Jennifer."
She glances over her shoulder, and our eyes meet for a brief, charged moment. "Good morning, Fletcher. I hope you don't mind that I started breakfast early. The kiddos will be down soon."
"I don't mind at all."
She smiles sweetly. "Grab a stool."
I move to the coffee pot, needing caffeine more than I need oxygen right now. My hands aren't entirely steady as I pour myself a cup, hyperaware of Jennifer's presence behind me. Once I sit down, the aroma of coffee begins to relax me.
"Did you sleep well?" she asks.
"Eventually." I sip my coffee, careful only to face her sideways and noticing that she carefully avoids looking directly at me too. "What about you?"
"Mm, I slept so well that it ought to be a crime to feel so refreshed." She focuses intently on the sizzling bacon, but I detect a slight tremor in her hands as she moves the strips around in the pan.
We're both trying so hard to act normal that it seems anything but. I swear I can feel the unspoken tension while memories of tangled limbs and breathless moans hang heavily between us despite our careful politeness.
"Jennifer," I start, then stop. What am I meant to say? Thank you for the best shag I've had in years? Sorry I ravished you on your first day? Let's pretend it never happened and go back to being professional?
The thunderous noise of feet on the stairs saves me from having to finish that thought. Henry appears first, his hair sticking up at impossible angles, followed by Charlotte clutching a book about marine biology.
"Jennifer!" Henry shouts, launching himself toward her with extraordinary glee. "You're still here!"
I wince at his volume, but Jennifer simply laughs and ruffles his messy hair. "Of course I'm still here, sweetheart. I told you I was staying. You're stuck with me for a long, long time."
"The last nanny was gone before breakfast," Charlotte observes, settling onto a bar stool. "She left a note saying we were 'too much.'"
My chest tightens with familiar guilt. These children have been abandoned too many times---first by their mother, then by a parade of babysitters and nannies who couldn't hack it.
Jennifer's words are like a balm to an old wound.
What if she regrets making that promise after she's been here longer? No, I won't think about that. I can't.
"We are not too much for Jennifer. Mrs. Pennington was weak, that's all," Amelia declares dramatically as she sweeps into the kitchen with a blue streak freshly added to her hair. "She cried when Henry showed her his worm collection."
"Hulk isn't scary," Henry insists, climbing onto a stool next to Charlotte. "Jennifer likes him, don't you?"
Jennifer winks at him. "He's a very distinguished worm, honey."
I squint at my eldest child. "No more blue hair, Amelia. Wash it out now."
"But Dad," she whines.
"Get rid of it. Only natural colors are allowed in this house."
Amelia sulks but obeys my command, returning a few minutes later with damp hair that's no longer blue.
I watch this domestic scene unfold, struck by how natural Jennifer seems with my children. There's no awkwardness, no forced cheerfulness---simply genuine warmth. If only our own interactions could be as uncomplicated.
"Dad, you look weird," Joshua announces as he slouches into the kitchen, his clothes rumpled despite it being barely seven in the morning. "Are you sick?"
"Just, ah, tired," I mutter, taking a long sip of coffee and trying not to look at Jennifer.
"He's probably thinking about work stuff," Jennifer says smoothly, sliding perfectly cooked eggs onto plates. "Your dad works very hard to take care of all of you."
The grateful look she aims my way makes reminds me of what she looked like last night with her head thrown back in ecstasy. I grip my coffee mug tighter. It will probably shatter any moment.
"Can we have pancakes tomorrow?" Henry asks, bouncing slightly on his stool.
"If you eat all your breakfast today," Jennifer promises, setting his plate in front of him. "And if your daddy doesn't mind."
Amelia shakes her head in teenage disgust. "Henry wants pancakes every day of every week. I'd rather have something vegan."
Joshua makes a fake vomiting sound. "That's gross. We should eat eggs and bacon for the protein."
"There's nothing wrong with caring about what you put in your body," Charlotte adds, ever the diplomat. "But bacon does smell amazing."
"You said you're a vegan."
"No, I said maybe I'd like something vegan this morning. I still eat bacon and ham."
I watch Jennifer navigate this typical Murgatroyd family breakfast debate with impressive skill, neither dismissing Amelia's dietary preferences nor Henry's pancake obsession. She simply nods thoughtfully while plating the remaining eggs.
"How about we plan a weekly menu together?" she suggests. "Everyone can pick one breakfast for the week. That way Henry gets his pancakes, Amelia can choose something vegan, and Joshua gets his protein."
"What about me?" Charlotte demands.
"You get to help me plan the balanced meals," Jennifer says with a conspiratorial wink. "Someone needs to make sure we're getting proper nutrition."
Charlotte beams at being given such an important responsibility. I'm impressed by how effortlessly Jennifer has turned potential conflict into cooperation. It's a skill I've never quite mastered, usually resorting to bribes or threats when the breakfast debates turn into full-scale warfare.
"That's actually brilliant," I say, earning a quick smile from Jennifer that warms me on the inside.
The morning routine unfolds with surprising smoothness.
Jennifer helps Henry find his missing shoe (under the sofa, naturally), reminds Joshua to pack his science project, and even manages to convince Amelia that she looks "perfectly beautiful" without additional coloring.
I can't resist watching Jennifer, mesmerized by how she slotted herself into our disordered family dynamic overnight.
She hasn't just adapted to it. She's improved it.
The children are responding to her in ways they never have with any other caregiver.
While we eat at the dining room table, the children discuss what everyone's day might be like.
My little monsters might sometimes be a handful, but they never balk at helping clean up after a meal.
Then it's time for Jennifer to drive the kids to school.
And that gives me a chance to relax briefly before I get dressed for work.
All I do is sit in the armchair with my eyes closed, reveling in the silence.
Then I dress quickly, trotting out to my car just as Jennifer returns from the school run.
She parks her car beside mine and gets out. The morning light catches copper highlights that shimmer in her hair, and I'm struck again by how sexy and lovely she is. How did I get so lucky? Hiring someone who looks like a goddess and can actually handle my children?
"How'd the drop-off go?" I ask, rolling down my window.
"Surprisingly calm. Henry made me promise to check on Hulk while he's at school, Charlotte reminded me three times about her soccer practice tomorrow, and Joshua asked if I know anything about hydraulics." She grins. "I told him we'd research it together tonight."
Of course she did. Another nanny would have deflected or made empty promises. Jennifer engages with their interests like they actually matter. "And Amelia?"
"Well, she asked if mermaids have to go to school in Atlantis. And if so, could she transfer there instead of going to a regular high school." Jennifer's eyes sparkle as she grins, her cheeks dimpling. "I told her we'd have to check on the admissions requirements."
I can't squelch my laugh. "You're going to fit in perfectly here."
"Certainly hope so." Her expression grows more serious, and I catch the faintest hint of uncertainty in her voice.
There's a moment of charged silence between us, the memory of last night hanging in the air like smoke. I want to say something about it, but not here in the driveway where neighbors might see us talking too intensely.
"I should get to work," I say reluctantly.
"Of course. I'll be here when you get home." Her tone of voice makes me horny. There's nothing overtly suggestive about her words, but the slight breathiness in her voice makes me think she's remembering last night too.
"Have a good day, Fletcher," she says softly, stepping away from my car.
I offer a tight smile and reverse out of the driveway. But I catch her in my rearview mirror, standing there watching me leave. The image burns itself into my brain---Jennifer in her peasant top, the morning sun creating a halo effect around her auburn hair.
The drive to the hotel passes in a blur of conflicted thoughts and emotions.
I should regret what happened last night.
I should establish clear boundaries between me and the nanny.
I absolutely should not be fantasizing about bending her over the kitchen counter while my children are at school.
Christ, I shouldn't be thinking about the way her velvety walls wrapped around me, the soft cries she made when I took her nipple into my mouth, and how perfectly our bodies fit together.
I haven't felt this deeply connected to anyone for such a long time.
My phone buzzes just as I shut off my car in my assigned space. It's a text from Jennifer: Hulk is safely in his dirt box. Henry forgot his lunchbox---it's in the fridge. Don't worry, I'll take it to school at lunchtime---J.
As I stare at the message longer than necessary, I'm oddly charmed by the way she signed it with only her initial. Something about that simple "J" catches me off guard with its intimacy. It's like a secret between us.
So, I type back: Thank you. You're already better at this than I am.
Her response comes back quickly: Just getting started. ;)
The winking emoji makes my pulse accelerate. Is the nanny flirting? Or am I reading too much into a simple text? After last night, every interaction feels loaded with subtext.
I shove my phone into my pocket and head into the hotel, determined to focus on work instead of the gorgeous woman currently reorganizing my life in the most wonderful way possible.
The Millbrook Grand's lobby bustles with the usual morning activity.
Guests checking out, businesspeople grabbing coffee from our continental breakfast station, and my assistant manager Debbie waving frantically at me from the front desk.
"Mr. Murgatroyd!" she shouts, her voice carrying across the marble floor. "Thank goodness you're here. The reunion party for this weekend just called. They want to change the entire menu three days before the event!"
I sigh, pushing thoughts of Jennifer to the back of my mind. "Can't stand high school reunions and all the headaches they cause."
Debbie winces. "Oh, it's worse than that. This is a reunion of divorced couples who want to try swinging."
"We don't have any swing sets."
"That's not what 'swinging' means, Fletcher." She inches closer to whisper, "It means couples who want to, um, exchange partners. Like, sexually."
"Is that legal?"
Debbie shrugs. "Sex isn't illegal, unless you're doing it in public. Our guests will be discreet. Every couple does...whatever they intend to do, strictly in the confines of a hotel room. It starts in the ballroom, where is clothed and they can, you know, choose their partners."
The things people do these days...
Oh yes, my life just keeps getting better.