Chapter Three
Austin
September goes by quickly with no word from Kayla, which makes me nervous.
My lawyer says we can take her apart on the stand if it ever gets that far.
As time passes, I become convinced that my ex-wife is more afraid she’ll be awarded custody than I am of going up against her in court.
That is the hope I hold on to as I try to push her to the back of my mind.
Dan holds up his end of the bargain, and by late September, I’m working three days a week from home, at the office one day for the weekly meeting, and a second when needed.
An intended result of my time at the house is more ability to be on call when parents are requested in class.
Bailey’s school is big on “Days of the Year” celebrations, and once a week the teacher allows parents in with the kids.
Today is a celebration of Stanley Berenstain’s birthday, the children’s book author and illustrator, and Bailey volunteered me as one of the parents who will read to the kids this afternoon.
Unfortunately, an office emergency comes up and I have to go in to work, so Mia is going to read for me.
Bailey took the news in stride, no doubt because she has Mia to take my place.
Mia, who I can’t stop thinking about and not as my child’s nanny. She captivates me with her sexy body. Her easy grace, her kindness… everything about her calls to me. I want to taste her, to feel her curves beneath me. It is quickly becoming an obsession.
She knows me now, takes care of me as well as my kid. Each morning she has my coffee—black, the way I mentioned I like it—ready for me before I go to work or head upstairs to my office. But things have changed.
On the night I confided in her about my ex-wife, the night she reached out and touched me for the first time, I knew the awareness between us was mutual. Why else would she have fled the kitchen, her cheeks on fire, unable to meet my gaze?
And ever since, it is as if a wall has fallen between us. Maybe it is my imagination, but she is more relaxed around me now, less formal. The sharing of my personal pain and her comforting touch both bonded us and crossed a line neither of us wants to acknowledge.
We lock eyes often now. We brush past each other with inadvertent touches I never noticed before but can’t stop thinking about when I am alone.
Nighttime is painful, as I lie in my bed, knowing she is one floor down while I am hot and worked up, wanting her and unable to have her. Showers are worse, but at least then I can make good use of my hand, my mind conjuring images of her naked, kneeling at my feet, her lips around my cock.
It is fucking unbearable, considering there is still that defined line between employer and employee keeping us apart. And I understand, at least on a rational level, that for both our sakes, there has to be one.
I wrap up things at the office more quickly than anticipated, and I decide to surprise Bailey at school.
I arrive midway through the reading hour, sign in at the office, and head to the classroom.
I walk down the hallways, cheery only due to the brightly colored drawings done by the children, and approach the room.
The door is open, and as I draw closer, Mia’s voice travels toward me. She reads about Mama Bear, Sister Bear, and Grizzly Gramps, her voice animated with each character she mentions. I pause in the doorway and take in the sight.
Mia sits in the teacher’s larger chair, Bailey beside her in a small one.
Just as the kids who kneel and sit on the floor eagerly listen to her rendition of the story, so, too, does my daughter, watching with adoring eyes.
I am pretty riveted myself and not by the story but by the woman reading it.
Her expressive eyes flash with delight, her cheeks are alight with color, and despite wearing a sweater that covers her well, I can see the outline of those breasts I imagine cupping in my hands.
With a shake of my head, I draw my attention to the stick-figure drawings on the wall, anything to cool myself off. I wait until I hear Mia say the words, “The end,” with a flourish, before stepping inside. The kids clap for her, so I join them.
“Daddy! You made it!” Bailey grins up at me from her place on the chair. Instead of running straight to me, she grabs Mia’s hand and looks up at her. “Thank you!” She gives her a big hug before heading over to me to do the same.
“Thank you for coming, Mia. And Mr. Rhodes, I’m glad you could stop by for Bailey,” her teacher, Mrs. Johnson, says.
“I did my best. But I’m guessing she didn’t even miss me. She had a much better reader.” I grin at Mia, who blushes at the compliment.
“Thanks for having me,” she says to the teacher. “Bye, Bailey.” She waves, and I do the same as the kids all scramble back to their desks.
“See you at home,” I say.
I place a hand on Mia’s back, my palm burning at the innocent touch, as we step out of the room. “Thank you,” I say to her.
“You’re welcome, but I was just a stand-in for her dad.” She tucks behind her ear a long strand of blonde hair that fell out of her ponytail.
My fingers itch to touch those strands and see how soft her hair actually is.
I clear my throat. “You’re hardly just a stand-in.” I shove my hands into my front pockets, doing my best not to stare.
Today, she wears a pair of tight-fitting jeans and that V-neck sweater, totally school appropriate, but my brain doesn’t want to cooperate with that fact.
All I can see is her barely there cleavage and think about the luscious fullness hidden beneath.
I spend hours in the gym trying not to think about what color her nipples are or whether she’d fill my hands or overflow them. Yeah, you could call me a breast man.
I’m starting to sweat and decide a subject change is in order.
“Want to get a cup of coffee? After sitting in on meetings for the better part of the morning, I’m dying for some caffeine.”
She glances at her watch. “I don’t know. I need to be back in an hour for pickup, and if I go home, I could get dinner started.”
Does she not want to be alone with me? I’m not sure nor do I plan to take no for an answer. I want to know more about her, and this seems like the perfect opportunity.
“Or you could get coffee with me, I’ll drop you back off here for your car and to get Bailey, and we could order in Chinese or sushi.”
She narrows her gaze. “Wow. Coffee and no cooking or going home to prep dinner. You drive a hard bargain,” she says, laughing so her pretty green eyes light up with delight.
My dick perks up at the sound. “Don’t forget to factor in the good company when you’re weighing your options.”
“When you put it that way, how can I resist? Let’s go to Starbucks.”
A little while later, I sit across from Mia at the local Starbucks, not far from the school.
She takes a sip of the vanilla latte she ordered, ending up with cream on her upper lip.
The desire to lick it off her and taste her mouth is strong.
Only the fact that we are in a public place keeps me sitting in my seat.
She slides her tongue over her lip, pulling the white froth into her mouth, and moans. “Now this is a luxury,” she says.
I am grateful for the table that hides my erection, because if we were standing, it would be loud and proud.
“Are you telling me I don’t pay you enough?” I ask.
She laughs. “You pay me plenty. I’m just saving for my future.”
I nod in understanding. “I can respect that.”
“Aren’t you going to drink yours?” she asks.
I nod. “Cheers,” I say with a grin, lifting my cup before taking a sip.
She smiles and does the same.
“So I’m curious. How did you end up being a nanny? What was your path?” I ask.
She glances at me over the top of her cup. “I was in foster care from the age of seven until I aged out at eighteen,” she says.
I think of my little girl, and the idea of her being left alone, to the clutches of the state and whatever person took her in, makes my stomach turn. “I’m sorry,” I say, suddenly envisioning her as a little thing like Bailey, only a few years older, going to live with strangers.
“Don’t be. I mean, I had it better than most. Good families, decent people took me in.
As I got older, I loved taking care of the younger kids and the babies in the houses I was in.
I didn’t make trouble, so I didn’t get switched around too often.
” She shrugs, seemingly having made peace with her past.
“So you always liked kids.”
She nods. “I put myself through a local college. I majored in early child development and minored in psychology, and I could have gone on, gotten my master’s in education, been a teacher…”
“I hear a but there,” I say, enjoying the story and her attitude toward life.
She smiles. “But I’d been working as a nanny while I was in school, and it suited me.” She shrugs. “Not a very exciting story.”
“It is to me.” I meet her gaze, hoping to convey that I really do appreciate her life and admire her. “You’re strong, Mia. And you made the best of the hand you were dealt.”
She blushes. “Well, thank you for saying that.”
“No thanks necessary. Just telling the truth. So what’s your end game?”
She pauses, lowering the cup from her lips. “You’ll laugh. Or at the very least, you won’t think it’s overly ambitious.”
I ignore my coffee, more interested in the fascinating woman sitting across from me. “Try me.”
“Someday I’d like a family of my own. A lot of kids, not all mine.
Kids who’ve been in foster care too long and never adopted because everyone wants babies.
” She rubs her cup between her palms, not meeting my gaze.
“See? Nothing all that enterprising, like becoming a teacher or succeeding in business.”