Chapter 4
Elena
I wake up, and I don’t know where I am for a moment. Then my eyes focus, and I recognize the room. It’s the guest room in Mr. Grant’s house.
That’s strange. I don’t remember going to bed. I have a vague memory of a deep, sexy voice in my ear, and a hand caressing my cheek in the dark. I must have been dreaming.
My phone is on the nightstand, and I snatch it up, opening the app to check on Rosie. I smile when I see she’s still fast asleep. It’s a quarter to six, so I think I have time for a quick shower before she wakes up.
By the time I shower, brush my hair, and put on a fresh top and jeans, Rosie is stirring in her crib and starting to cry.
I hurry into the nursery and pick her up.
I worry that Rosie will scream louder when she finds she’s being held by someone who’s practically a stranger, but her cries subside, and she smiles at me.
Mr. Grant has made her feel secure and very loved. My heart melts.
“Your daddy loves you so much,” I whisper, stroking back her curls. “You’re the luckiest little girl in the world.”
“Da-dee,” Rosie says, looking around for him.
I wonder what time Mr. Grant got home from his poker game. I picture him bare-chested and asleep in his bed just down the corridor, the sheet low on his hips, and I feel my cheeks turn pink. “Daddy’s probably asleep right now. Do you want to come downstairs and have some breakfast with Elena?”
“Lay-na.”
“That’s right, I’m Elena. And what’s your name. Is it Rosie?”
“Rosie.”
“You’re Rosie, and I’m Elena.”
“Lay-na.”
We’re both smiling and enjoying this back and forth as I carry Rosie downstairs, but in the doorway, I freeze.
There’s a half-naked stranger in the kitchen wearing only a towel low on his hips. He’s turned away from me, doing something on the counter. He’s tall, and his broad, muscular back is covered in tattoos. There’s more ink snaking down his arms. He dominates the room. His presence screams danger .
My arms tighten protectively around Rosie.
Mr. Grant’s explanation about the security system in his house comes rushing back to me.
There’s an alarm panel on the wall close to where I’m standing.
I hurry over to the panic button, but my foot catches on a stool, the leg squeals against the tiles, and I trip.
The stranger turns around, and I realize he’s not a stranger at all. It’s Mr. Grant. There’s dark hair on his chest, and even more tattoos. I had no idea he looked like that. He’s been hiding his muscles and tattoos under nondescript clothing.
“Elena!” Mr. Grant lunges for us, and catches us both in his arms before we can fall. He steadies us, and his hot breath stirs my hair. My entire field of vision is filled with Mr. Grant’s broad chest. He has an amazing, deep, rich woody scent with a little smokiness.
I feel my face turn red. I’m in Mr. Grant’s embrace with my body pressed against his blazing hot one, and I nearly fell over while carrying his baby. She could have gotten hurt. I’m the worst babysitter ever.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Grant. I nearly fell while holding Rosie. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise,” I plead.
He slowly releases me and straightens up. “It’s my fault. You didn’t know I was here, and I scared you. Those were good instincts, going for the panic button when you were afraid. Are you all right? Did you hurt your ankle?”
I don’t know where to look. This is not what I was imagining Mr. Grant would look like almost naked. He’s a lot more muscular than I was expecting, and the tattoos that adorn his flesh make me hungry to touch him.
I’m reminded of my dream about him, when he was holding me close and there was a glimmer of darkness in his eyes.
Strong and protective, with just a hint of danger.
Why is that so sexy?
Now that some of the shock is ebbing away, I feel flustered more than anything. To cover my embarrassment, I smooth Rosie’s curls back. “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Grant. I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be. I should have texted you that I’m here, but when I got out of the shower, I really needed coffee. Would you like a cup?”
“Yes, please.”
He reaches out and takes Rosie from me, smiling at her and calling her Rosie-Posy as she pats his bristly cheek and giggles. After giving her a cuddle and a kiss, he passes her back to me and turns toward the coffee machine.
My eyes linger on the way the morning light hits Mr. Grant’s muscular shoulders as he pours two cups—until I remember that I’m supposed to be working, not ogling my boss.
Rosie is happily chanting, “Da-dee, Da-dee, Da-dee,” as I prepare a bottle of milk and make some oatmeal.
While she’s in my arms, Mr. Grant cups his daughter’s cheek and leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head. He’s so close, and the gesture is so intimate that it almost feels like he’s kissing me. His eyes close, and I can see that his thick lashes are all different shades of brown and gold.
When he opens his eyes, they meet mine, and my stomach swoops.
We stare at each other. He studies my face, and I suddenly realize he must be confused why I’m staring at him like an idiot, and I quickly look away.
Mr. Grant steps back. “I’ll go get dressed. Sorry about the towel. I’m used to it just being me and Rosie this early in the morning.”
“Oh, it’s no problem,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as flustered as I feel as I watch his broad back retreating from the kitchen. I wonder if his skin would feel velvety soft beneath my fingers as I traced all those tattoos.
I shake myself and get back to work. Those kinds of thoughts are dangerous to linger on.
After Rosie finishes her bottle and oatmeal, I get her dressed, and we play with some of her toys. Rosie has the most adorable dollhouse with felt animal figurines in tiny little clothes. I would have done anything to play with this when I was her age, and I enthusiastically give it my all now.
The nanny arrives, and it’s time for me to go. I have a diner shift starting soon.
When I come into the living room carrying Rosie, Mr. Grant is there, and he’s wearing black pants and a black V-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
I can see a hint of the tattoos on his chest, and plenty on his forearms. The names Rosie and Leon are inked among the snakes, flowers, and scrolling patterns.
I’ve never seen him in black, and he’s never exposed his tattoos before today.
He’s always been his safe, capable security guy persona in pale colors. I wonder if this is the real Mr. Grant.
Mr. Grant is flicking through something on his phone and smiling to himself. He sees me, and puts his phone in his pocket.
“What are you smiling at?” I ask without thinking. Like I have a right to know anything about him. I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping he’s not about to tell me to mind my own business. Maybe he has a girlfriend and he’s looking at photos of her.
Mr. Grant doesn’t seem annoyed as he takes Rosie from me and bounces her in his arms. “Photos of Rosie I took last night. How was your first night with her?”
“Great, thank you. I enjoyed every moment. She’s such a lovely girl.”
“Would you like to babysit her again?”
“Absolutely.”
“Wonderful. I’ll call you. As a single father, it’s a comfort to know she’s in safe and loving hands while I’m away. Would you like Elena to come back, Rosie?” he asks his daughter.
“Lay-na,” Rosie says happily.
“I think she wants you to come back as much as I do, Elena.”
I’m already looking forward to returning to this big, beautiful, loving home, where children are adored and Mr. Grant smiles at me and talks in that lovely deep voice. I wonder what happened to his wife. I can’t imagine being married to a man like Mr. Grant and wanting to give him up.
“It’s unusual, isn’t it? The father getting custody.” Crap. There I go again, asking prying questions without thinking. I shake my head. “Sorry, I need to be more mindful about boundaries. Just because I’m dating your son, doesn’t mean I’m entitled to know anything.”
“It’s all right, Elena. Rosie was a surprise, and I talked my ex-wife into having the baby.
We decided to divorce while she was still pregnant.
She was always adamant that more children didn’t fit in with her lifestyle.
So I asked for sole custody, and Rebecca agreed.
She takes Rosie for a few days a month.”
“I see. I’m sorry about the divorce.”
“I’m not. Everything worked out for the best.” His lips twitch in amusement. “My ex thought I was boring, and maybe I am. But I have my moments.”
“Oh? And what are those?” I ask with interest. He doesn’t seem boring to me. He seems strong and steady.
He gives me a mysterious smile. “Maybe I’ll tell you about them sometime.”
Apparently his heart isn’t broken over his ex-wife.
For some reason, I’m secretly pleased about that.
My eyes travel over tall, handsome Mr. Grant.
I feel a little weak at the knees at the loving way he’s smiling at her, and the sight of Rosie’s chubby little hand wrapped around one of his big, calloused fingers.
He fought for her. He fought so hard to keep her and raise her, and he loves Rosie so much .
God, that’s crazy sexy.
I mean heartwarming. It’s heartwarming what a beautiful home he’s made for his family, and he’ll always love them and keep them safe.
I say goodbye to Mr. Grant. As I head to the diner, I’m already looking forward to going back to babysit Rosie. To experience Mr. Grant’s safe, loving world even for a few hours makes me feel lucky.
Mr. Grant calls me four days later, and I feel my stomach do a little skip when his name flashes on my phone screen.
I answer the call, trying to sound casual but responsible. “Mr. Grant, how are you? How’s Rosie?”
“We’re well, thank you,” he says in that warm, deep voice of his. “How are you?”