7. Grayson
CHAPTER 7
Grayson
I’m faced with a dilemma.
Abandon what I’m doing or finish what I’ve started.
I decide to finish. Hell, Caroline already saw me beating my cock like it owes me money, so I might as well reap the reward of my efforts. I’ve been wound really fucking tight the last three weeks.
I’m poised over the sink for easy clean up, straight out of the shower. I could have jerked off in the shower, but I think I fell asleep under the stream instead. When I finally came back to my senses, the water was cold because this is an old building. I’d gotten out and decided to take care of business quickly before Caroline and Evelyn returned.
Not quickly enough, apparently.
But now, as I stroke myself a little slower, but tighter, my fantasy of a couple of blondes making out is replaced by the image of a certain woman with reddish brown hair who lives in tight leggings. Her expression—was she horrified? Yes. But I also think she was a little intrigued. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
Bottom line, I’m sure she’s going to quit.
But right now, I’m visualizing what would have happened if she had strode into the bathroom, got down on her knees and pulled my cock into her moist, silken mouth, cupping my balls with lithe fingers and gazing up over my length with a wanton expression…
I give a grunt and explode into my hand, the hot strands of cum spilling over into the sink. Letting out a deep breath, I release the tension in my shoulders and consider how I’m supposed to apologize to Caroline.
Not that I need to apologize. I was in my bedroom. Though the door was open.
But still. She invaded my privacy.
But she’s also caring for my maybe-daughter and I should be available to her.
Though what happened to knocking?
The door was open.
Damn it. As I quickly clean up and get dressed, tension is already creeping back into my neck and shoulders.
At least I’m clean and I did a load of laundry last night. I have clean shorts to put on, though they’re wrinkled to hell and back, and a golf shirt so I can look presentable on this afternoon’s video call. I really need to research if there is a laundry service in Honeysuckle Harbor. In New York, my clothes just magically appeared on my doorstep three times a week in a tidy little hanging bag of ironed shirts and pants, as well as my towels and sheets in a bundle, a sprig of lavender on top.
Why do I feel like that’s not a Honeysuckle Harbor staple?
I need a housecleaning service as well. Caroline and James ran my dishwasher and cleaned up a multitude of takeout containers the night before, which was really nice, but I can’t expect Caroline to clean on top of caring for Evelyn. She’s a pretty demanding baby. Hell, maybe all babies are demanding. I have no idea. I just know that I’m white knuckling this whole situation.
And Caroline is probably going to quit because I made her uncomfortable.
Though I still feel like she was in the wrong here.
I never gave her permission to be in my bedroom.
Of course, that’s where the crib is.
Knowing I might actually be wrong doesn’t improve my mood. It makes it worse.
I stride out into the living room, prepared for battle. I will argue my ass off to prevent Caroline from quitting.
She’s on the couch, giving Evelyn a bottle.
I steel myself and open my mouth.
But Caroline speaks first. “Feel better?” she says, giving me a casual smile.
Caught off guard, I nod. “Sorry,” I say, gruffly. “I should have locked the door.”
I can admit, apologizing doesn’t come easily to me.
Especially when I wasn’t wrong.
She puts her hand up. “It’s fine. Let’s not make a big deal out of it. You close the door, I’ll knock, we’ll be fine. You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, so I can’t say I blame you.”
“I have been under a lot of pressure.” Deflated now that she’s not giving me a reason to fight, I wander over to them and run my hand over Evelyn’s downy hair.
She gazes up at me, making adorable little sucking sounds as she drinks her formula.
“Any port in a storm, right?” Caroline grins.
I grunt in acknowledgment. “This is a damn hurricane, that’s for sure. Hey, what was it you wanted?”
“The formula. The canister on the counter was empty. But I found it in the bags of groceries by the front door.”
“Sorry about that,” I say, the apology easier this time. It just rolls off of my tongue. Look at me. Mr. Mellow. “Thanks for not running out of here screaming.”
Caroline shrugs. “It’s natural. A great tension release.”
I wonder if she’s getting fucked regularly, and that’s why she’s so calm all the time.
I envision some beefy gym rat sweating all over her and wish I hadn’t.
I have no idea what her type is. Nor is her sex life any of my business.
Talk about a conflict of interest.
If I fuck the nanny, I’ll really be complicating things, and God knows I’m in no shape to be in a relationship.
I’ve never been a relationship type of guy, anyway, preferring the freedom of being single and doing whatever I want. Now? Forget about it. I’m a mess. I can’t learn how to become a parent—if Evelyn is mine—and navigate dating on top of that.
If I want to have casual sex, it needs to be with someone other than the nanny.
Caroline stretches her right arm out, which pushes her glorious breasts forward in her little tank top.
Or I can work really hard on finding a couple of permanent nannies so I can do whatever I want with Caroline, which is to strip her naked and lick her from head to toe.
With that idea in mind, as well as the fact that I’m undeniably drowning in domestic chaos, I check my email on my phone and find the nanny agency has sent me several nanny candidates’ dossiers. I scroll through the possibilities. They’re all young and have great backgrounds.
I turn my phone to Caroline. “What do you think of her? She was a senator’s nanny.”
Caroline eyes my phone. She reads with her lips moving. Then surprises me by reaching out and scrolling my screen until she gets to the woman’s photo that has been attached. “She looks uptight.”
I just see a woman who is giving a hint of a smile in an attempt to remain professional. She has high cheekbones, is attractive, and has sleek brown hair. “Shouldn’t a nanny be, I don’t know, disciplined?”
“Who else did they send you?” She glances down and readjusts Evelyn’s bottle.
“This one. Her name is Primrose. She’s twenty-one.” I study her picture. “She’s also gorgeous. Like, wow, gorgeous. I better not pick her. Too tempting.”
Caroline snorts. “Is that even real? She sounds like a catfish.”
Is she jealous? I certainly hope so. This feels a little more fun than it should.
“These are from the agency,” I protest. “It doesn’t matter though, because she’s too pretty. I’m going to set up an interview with the first one.”
“Are there any grandmotherly type options? That seems like your best bet.” Caroline is straining to glance at my phone again.
If not jealous, because she hasn’t known me long enough to be jealous, she is definitely competitive. This is a lot more fun.
“Why is that?”
“They’re reliable. And not looking for a rich husband.”
“You think nannies are just trying to steal husbands?” That is a very cynical point of view. It sounds like something I would say.
“I don’t mean they would steal husbands. But you’re single, right?”
“Very single,” I agree. “And not looking for a marriage of convenience with a twenty-one-year-old nanny.” I give her a grin. “Sorry if that ruins your plans.”
Caroline laughs. “You’re safe with me. I promise I’m not angling for a husband.”
It makes me curious what she does want in life. She seems very confident and easygoing.
“That’s a relief.”
“And I’m not twenty-one,” she adds lightly. “I’m twenty-eight, so I’m basically aging out of trophy wife potential.”
The corner of her mouth is turned up. She is enjoying teasing me.
“Oh, yeah, you might as well resign yourself to marrying for love at this point.”
She laughs. “That’s always been the plan. Just waiting for Mr. Wonderful to pop out of a bush because I’m not actively looking.”
“Is that how people find spouses these days? Good thing I don’t have a yard.” I give her a wink. “So tell me about yourself, Caroline. I’ve been too overwhelmed to ask you much, so I apologize for that. You’re between jobs?”
“Yes, by choice. I teach overseas and I’ve been doing two year assignments. I start another in a few weeks in Colombia.”
“Wow, that sounds interesting. Does it give you time to travel?”
“Yes, I’ve been all over Europe and Asia.”
Caroline, the temp nanny, is even more fascinating than I expected. It’s also nice to be around a woman who has no obvious interest in a long-term relationship. Though I am definitely curious to see if she might be on board with a little naked fun once she’s no longer my employee.
“What was your favorite place?”
“Croatia. The water was gorgeous, and the people were lovely.”
“I’ve never been there. I’d love to go.” Though it occurs to me, my days of spontaneous weekend trips all over the world might be over.
With that in mind, I look at my phone screen again and go through three more nanny profiles. “What about her?” I ask Caroline, turning my phone so she can see.
This woman is around my age and she looks very…wholesome. Like she bakes bread and goes to church twice a week. Like she doesn’t wear tight leggings and little crop tops to work.
“She’s not bad,” Caroline says. “She looks reliable.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I need a wholesome nanny. “I’ll set up an interview.” I realize that I’m bumping up against my next meeting. “Gotta go jump on a call. Are you good here?”
“Yes, we’re fine. I’m leaving at five, just to remind you.”
“Got it. Thanks.” I retreat into my bedroom, which has become Evelyn’s bedroom as well, and a makeshift office.
If I wind up staying in Honeysuckle Harbor, I’m going to need a bigger space. A house with multiple bedrooms and an office that is soundproof. Or at least far away from the main living areas. I’ll have to ask my mom to look into that possibility.
Life is suddenly really damn complicated. I need a whole fucking staff.
The minute I’m in my room, I suddenly feel bad that I left the room without saying anything to Evelyn. I instantly feel guilty because her life has been turned upside down.
I also feel like I…miss her. Is that possible, given it’s been thirty seconds since I saw her?
Whatever it is, I immediately return to the living room and approach the sofa. Evelyn is done eating and is attempting to stand on Caroline’s legs. I give the top of her head a kiss.
“Have a good nap.”
Evelyn starts and then looks up at me and smiles. She reaches for me and now I feel stupid for coming out here. I just made it worse. “Not right now, pretty girl. I have to work.”
Her bottom lip juts out, and she starts to tremble.
Oh, God.
“Sorry,” I say to Caroline and fast walk back to my room, feeling like the biggest dick to ever live.
Is this what being a parent feels like? You want to do everything right and feel like you’re fucking it all up every step of the way?
I hear Evelyn crying and I decide that yes, this is exactly what being a parent feels like.
Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Terrified. Undersexed.
I’m going to assume it gets easier. It has to get easier.
It’s already better in that I’m starting to understand Evelyn’s moods and expressions and sounds.
I’ll get more sleep with a night nanny.
And the sex part?
I’m going to work on that too.
All those thoughts are shoved aside though as I get dragged into a flurry of work calls and have to put out a dozen fires. The afternoon flies by and before I know it, Caroline is knocking on my door.
“Grayson? It’s five. I need to head out. I have plans with Cas and James.”
I shove my chair back rapidly and drop my phone on the desk. If I take it with me, it will just be pinging nonstop in my hand.
“Sure, of course,” I say, yanking the door open.
She has Evelyn with her, so I reach out.
She comes readily to me, like she’s been waiting all day for some attention from me. “Hi. Did you have a good day?”
She rewards me with a grin.
“She just had a bottle and some avocado,” Caroline says. “She won’t be hungry for a while.”
“ Avocado ?” I ask. “Babies eat avocados?”
Caroline nods. “Sure. That’s one of the best first foods. Good texture.”
Well, shit, now I have to research what the hell I’m actually supposed to be feeding her because in my mind she is supposed to suck on a bottle until she tells me otherwise.
I rub my temple. “Oh, my god.”
Caroline pats my arm. “It’s okay. You’ll get there, big guy.”
That feels insulting. “Absolutely I will.”
She smiles and turns with a hair flip, practically bouncing her way to the front door. “Bye!”
“Bye.” The door is already closing behind her.
She’s eager for her plans.
I suddenly feel a little lonely.
It’s not a comfortable or familiar feeling.
“What should we do?” I ask Evelyn.
She smacks my arm before pitching forward and biting my shirt.
“You might have eaten, but I need to find something. I haven’t eaten all day.” I head into the kitchen and scrounge up some leftover Chinese takeout to eat.
Eating with one hand and holding Evelyn is harder than I anticipated. She knocks multiple forkfuls of rice onto the counter before it makes it to my mouth.
It’s when I’m cleaning up the mess that I realize Caroline’s cell phone is on the counter.
It lights up. I glance at the screen automatically, not because I’m trying to be nosy.
It’s filled with notifications from a dating app.
She’s matched with Mitch.
And Trevor.
And Rashid.
I shove it in my pocket.
Food can wait.
“We have to return Caroline’s phone,” I tell Evelyn, then wonder if it’s normal to narrate my whole life to a baby.
It just seems like common courtesy to tell her what the fuck is going on.
As is returning Caroline’s phone. There’s nothing more to it than that. Just common courtesy.