Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Paige
The next morning when I open my bedroom door, I’m greeted by a sight that makes me either want to thank the heavens or curse my luck.
Ash is fresh from the shower with a towel slung low around his waist and a damp Chloe in her own tiny towel cradled in his arms. His broad, sculpted tattooed chest is on full display.
He’s preoccupied with drying her, and he hasn’t seen me yet.
I swallow, and my feet are glued to the floor.
My nipples pucker, and I’m not sure whether I should say something or duck into my room before he sees me.
During our weekday mornings, I’ve been the only one up here.
He takes the kids to the kitchen while I’m getting ready for work in the bathroom Joey and I use.
Ash must usually shower later in the day because we’ve yet to cross paths like this.
He draws the bathroom door shut, and the noise alerts a pajama-clad Joey, who comes dashing out of his bedroom and throws himself at Ash’s legs.
“Nanny Ash! Nanny Ash!”
Just in time, Ash manages to grab the edge of his towel, and when he glances up to see me watching, he gives me a sheepish grin.
My mouth has gone completely dry, and an undeniable heat has sprung up between my thighs. How is it possible I’ve hired a nanny who belongs in one of those sexy-man calendars? Whoever is in charge of my fate must be drunk.
“Sorry,” he says. “Thought I’d be done before you were up. Chloe didn’t have a good night.” He takes a step back from Joey. “Mate, stop tugging on my towel. Your mum doesn’t need to see all my bits.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I turn on my heel, and go back into my room, shutting the door firmly before leaning against it.
My pulse is genuinely racing, a tempo I’ve never felt from something as simple as seeing a half-naked man.
Wild and out of control. Yes, my nanny is highly attractive, and if I could acknowledge that without feeling whatever this is, having him in such close proximity wouldn’t be so bad.
As it is, it’s just my luck that the strongest reaction I’ve ever had to a man happens to be one I shouldn’t even look twice at.
There’s a soft knock on my door which goes right through the wood to my heart.
“Paige, I’m taking the kids downstairs. Upstairs is all yours. Didn’t mean to parade around here half naked.” He lets out a self-conscious chuckle. “I’ll take my clothes in with me next time.”
I’m tempted to open the door and offer him more money to make his bare chest and slipping towel a daily occurrence. Not sure my heart rate could handle the assault, and I’m fairly certain as his employer, my request would be sexual harassment.
“No problem,” I say, but my voice is too high-pitched to sell my claim. There’s a heavy silence on the other side of the door, and I hold my breath, wondering if he’s going to push the issue. What else can he say? He’s apologized. It’s not his fault I saw his toned, manly chest and freaked out.
When I hear the creak of the floorboards and Joey’s squeal of delight, I figure Ash has scooped them both up to take them with him.
I crack open the door and peer into the hallway. With a sigh of relief, I head to the bathroom.
For the rest of the morning, Ash looks after the kids without me having to ask, and I hide away in the back room with all my work files, trying to memorize regulations.
We dance around each other in the kitchen over lunch, and when he offers to keep watching Joey until the football match starts, I’m hesitant.
According to our contract, Saturday and Sunday are supposed to be negotiated for an extra fee on a case-by-case basis.
“I’ll pay you the extra,” I say.
“Oh, I’m not—” He scratches the back of his head, and his shirt rises to reveal a sliver of abs.
I silently curse the universe, and I decide the director of my fate must be high on drugs.
Maybe drunk and high. Only explanation for Ash falling into my life at a time when I can’t just dismiss him.
My attraction is wrong and unacceptable, but I haven’t figured out how to shut it off.
There must be a way, and I’ll find one that doesn’t require me to either hide out in my bedroom or fire him.
“Up to you.” He shrugs. “You’ve got work to do, and I’m here.”
“When the soccer game starts, I’ll take both of them out into the yard or something. Let you watch in peace.”
“Right then, we’ve got a deal. Though I suppose they should still be down for a nap, if we’re keeping the same schedule.”
“Perfect. Yes. When they wake up, I’ll take them outside.”
The rest of the afternoon passes without incident, and when the soccer game starts, I can hear Ash talking to the television from the back room. He’s very into whatever is happening on the screen, and I’m finding it hard to concentrate on my regulations.
“Aww, mate. Was Nanny Ash too loud?” Ash’s voice drifts through the shut door.
I open the door and go into the living room where I find Joey with his head on Ash’s lap, clutching his blankie and staring at the television.
“Come on, Joey. We’ll go outside.”
“It’s raining,” Ash says. “I can watch this upstairs.”
“No, no,” I say. “We had a deal.” When I try to lift Joey off Ash, he clings to his leg.
“I stay Ash,” he says, and I can tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that I’m in for an epic argument.
“If you don’t mind,” Ash hedges, “I don’t mind.” He nods at the television. “Give him a bit of British culture. Teach him the sport.”
Biting my lip, I consider my options. Joey doesn’t want to move. Ash doesn’t seem to care, and it’s raining outside. If I drag Joey away, he’ll scream bloody murder, possibly waking Chloe too. Or he can learn the rules of football. In a way, it’s educational.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “We had a deal, and I don’t want to foist him off on you if you’d rather yell at the TV on your own.”
“You trying to tell me I was loud?” He gives me a wide grin, and those damn dimples make an appearance.
“A little.” I wince.
“Who that?” Joey asks, and he points at the screen.
“That, my young lad, is Watford’s top striker.”
As the two of them turn their attention to the game, I head back into the office, guilt niggling at me.
Hopefully, Ash doesn’t feel as though I’m taking advantage.
Dragging Joey away would have likely resulted in more missed football time or at least difficulty hearing the game.
I don’t often take the easy way, but seeing Joey cuddled into Ash’s side softened me.
An hour later, I hear Chloe chattering to herself upstairs, and I sneak past the living room to make a bottle, and then I take the stairs two at a time to get Chloe before Ash hears her.
I can at least look after one child. While she drinks the bottle, I change her diaper and give her fresh pants.
Noticing that Ash’s room isn’t nearly as organized as I’d want.
The mess will get to me if I stay in here, so I grab a few books and toys and take Chloe into my room.
There’s little risk of her getting into something she shouldn’t there.
She sits on my lap and plays with her toys.
Together, we leaf through a few picture-only board books, and I point out various things on the page naming them and making up simple stories.
She keeps glancing at me over her shoulder like she’s not sure what to make of me.
But she’s not crying, which is an improvement over the last time Ash left her with me.
“Paige?” Ash calls from the bottom of the stairs. “The match is over. Is Chloe up? Want me to come collect her?”
Her father’s voice perks her up, and she crawls off my lap toward the door at full speed. I laugh as I scoop her into my arms and carry her down the stairs.
“Ball,” Joey says as soon as he sees me. “Play ball.”
“Did he enjoy it?” I ask as I hand over Chloe.
“I reckon he did. Loads of questions and lots of pointing.” He ruffles Joey’s hair with his free hand.
“Play ball,” Joey says, and he makes a kicking motion with his foot.
“We don’t have a soccer ball,” I say, glancing around the living room. A few bouncy balls but nothing more substantial.
“They’ll sell them at the shops,” Ash says. “They’ll have little nets too.”
“Oh, um.” The logical thing would be for me to offer to go get one or to fluff it off as something I could get Joey for his birthday in November.
But that’s still really far away. Considering how large the yard is, I don’t have anything out there to play with.
A soccer ball and a net would be good for Joey and encourage more exercise and outdoor time.
Getting to the store is what’s holding me back.
“Sorry,” Ash says. “Shouldn’t be telling you what to do with your money.”
“No, it’s—would you mind going? I’ll pay for your gas and the cost of the equipment. But I’d have no idea what to buy or what was even any good.” When he seems to hesitate, I add, “I’ll watch Chloe, or you can go on your own and I’ll watch both of them.”
“What do you reckon, Jo-Jo? Should we go kit you out for some footie?”
My son claps his hands together and looks to me for confirmation.
“You can go with Nanny Ash to get a ball and a net,” I say as Ash hands me Chloe again.
Joey jumps up and down, and he follows Ash to the front entrance, chattering away in broken sentences about balls and nets.
His excitement is contagious, and I can’t help grinning as I watch them drive down the laneway, Ash obviously responding to Joey’s enthusiasm by the animated expression on his face too.