5. Griffin
Chapter 5
Griffin
W hen the résumé from Andrea Halton showed up in my email, I was hesitant to read it because it didn’t come from an online service. But then I remembered the last few hires came from “professional” agencies and not one of them could hack it, so this one couldn’t be worse. Her accompanying references from Clara and Marianne—my sister’s best friend—let me know I could trust her.
Besides that, I liked her answer to my question about being locked out of the house. Because my kids had done that…twice. To separate nannies. I need someone who won’t lose their cool, and this Andrea seems to be someone who can think on her feet, which I appreciate.
I have a couple days off work to get my home situation sorted, even if Logan and Grace begged me not to hire anyone and promised I could trust them.
I don’t believe them.
Because they’ve repeatedly shown me they are not to be trusted.
So, here I am again, opening the door to yet another possible nanny.
But what I don’t expect is to find Andi on the other side of the stoop. We both jolt back.
“Andi?”
“Captain?”
“What are you doing here?” I ask as her eyes dart around.
“I think I might be at the wrong place. I’m looking for 1035 Marshall Drive.”
“This is 1035 Marshall Drive,” I tell her, and those lips of hers—the ones I thought about being wrapped around my cock as I stroked it last night—open wide.
“You’re Griffin?”
I nod. “You’re Andrea?”
She bites into her plump lower lip. “Andi…short for Andrea.”
And for a moment, both of us are quiet, gazes frozen on each other, the crackling tension we’d found in the cab of my truck simmering between us once again.
I’m stunned, to say the least, but I finally grab hold of two brain cells to rub together. “So, you’re not leaving?”
She lifts one shoulder. “I thought I’d stick around for a bit.”
“And work for me?” Images of working her flood my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head to rid them.
“I didn’t know…”
When I lift my lids again, she’s staring at me with a mixture of wonder and curiosity. She’s barely as tall as my shoulders, and she’s close enough that I could reach out and wrap my arm around her waist, pull her to me, press her face to the middle of my chest.
I don’t touch her, but I do clear my throat, drawing her attention briefly below my chin before she blinks a few times. Then her eyes meet mine, and she winces. “I didn’t know it would be you. If it’s weird, I can…”
She vaguely motions behind her, and there is no way I’m letting her escape again. Not when I wasn’t sure I’d see her again. “No, come in.”
She does, and when I close the door behind her, I see she’s wearing my sweatshirt. I’d been too stunned to notice before, but I do now. Which makes her realize too, and she begins to unzip it.
“Keep it. Looks better on you.” What I mean to say is, I like my name on you , but I keep that sewn up tight. I motion for her to follow me. “I’ll show you around.”
When I understood I’d need full-time help after the babies were born, my siblings helped me remodel the basement to make it a little apartment. It has a small bathroom, even smaller kitchenette, but there’s also a bed and enough room for other furniture if she wanted.
Andi helps herself to looking around, dragging her fingertips along the counter, and I help myself to taking in the shape of her legs. Thankfully, she’d swapped out her cotton shorts for more suitable jeans, but they’re just as tempting with the way they hug the curve of her ass. She still wears her cowboy boots, and with her hair pulled up, showing off a few necklaces, there’s something about her that makes me think of country music, sticky floors, and neon lights.
“Where are you from?” I ask, and she turns to me, her pretty pink lips tipped up.
“A little town in West Texas.”
So that’s the faint twang I hear.
“My family owns a cattle ranch there.”
And that explains the cowgirl vibe.
Not that I needed an explanation because, either way, I’m in. She had me from the start.
“And you’re from here?” she asks, closing the distance between us.
“Born and raised.”
“But you said you left.”
“I was in the Navy for a while.”
Her gaze openly tracks down the length of me, and I hold my muscles taut, standing at attention as if I might impress her. Like a fucking chump.
But the rise and fall of her chest speeds up with her breathing, and she obviously likes what she sees, so maybe I’m not so stupid after all.
Especially because her tongue flicks out to the corner of her mouth, a flirtatious slant to her lips, and I don’t remember the last time I wanted a woman so badly.
And she’s here to be my kids’ nanny.
Fucking son of a bitch.
I stuff my hands in my pockets and inhale, hoping to clear my thoughts. All it does is fill my lungs with her scent, flowers and coffee, and I’d like nothing more than to bury my face in her neck.
“So…” I cough. “You want to tell me more about your background?”
She toys with the zipper of my hoodie, the one that’s hers now. “There’s not a whole lot more to tell than what you already know. I’m from Texas and moved to LA to be a songwriter. I’ve been there for the last ten years, and I worked with a temperamental but exacting boss for the last three years. I’m adept at managing schedules, and I think I’m a quick learner, efficient.”
Efficient. Like how quickly I’d be able to have her stripped naked in front of me.
Which is not exactly what I need to be thinking about right now.
In an attempt to move on, I ask, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
Good Christ. I’m lusting after someone nearly fifteen years younger than me.
She looks even younger when she asks, “Do I get to know how old you are?”
“Forty-two.” And because I need to pull back, I tell her, “My schedule can be a bit chaotic. I typically work twenty-four-hour shifts, but they can sometimes be longer, depending on the call volume and emergencies we face.”
She nods along, her smile teasing. “And you’re the boss?”
“I have a team to manage, yeah.”
She steps toward me, so she has to tilt her head back to keep my gaze. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“Nothing I’m not used to.”
She arches her brow in a silent question.
“I wasn’t just in the Navy. I was a SEAL.”
Her mouth drops open, eyes widen, and I love how sweet she looks when she’s startled.
“Wow. That’s… You really are a superhero, huh? My friend’s brother tried and didn’t make it.”
Only twenty-five percent of candidates make it through BUD/S training. They don’t call it Hell Week for nothing, but then again, when Andi reaches her fingers up to my bicep and traces the tattoo on my arm, I have to close my eyes at the sight of her small hands on me.
Hell Week is nothing compared to this, keeping my will in check and not touching her.
“Thank you for your service,” she says quietly, her fingertips following a vein on my forearm.
For once, my usual reply stalls on my tongue. Instead of “Serving my country was worth it,” I say, “You were worth it.”
While her cheeks pinken and silence descends between us, I don’t want to take it back. Because it’s true. Yes, serving my country was worth it. Serving and protecting the country that is the home to this woman is beyond worth it.
“Did you like it?” she asks after a while, and I force myself to look down at her once her hands are back at her sides.
“I wouldn’t say people like being a SEAL.”
Her brows furrow, worry lining the creases of her mouth. I can read her emotions like the back of my hand, and she thinks she said something wrong. She didn’t.
I drag the tip of my finger over my name on her chest. “It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life. The scariest. Also, some of the best times I’ve ever had with men who are my brothers.”
Her jaw moves as if deciding how to respond for a few seconds before she finally says, “Are you okay, though? How long have you been out?”
I avoid the former and answer the latter.
“I’ve been out since my kids were born. It was hard at first, for a lot of reasons, but I don’t get swept up in the past. I stay present and run a tight ship here…so to speak.”
“I see what you did there,” she murmurs with a smile as she wraps her hand around my wrist, her fingers cool against my pulse point. “But, really. You’re okay?”
She eyes me carefully, and I hate that I can’t seem to keep my goddamn mouth shut with her. “I’m okay. Promise.”
Nothing a few years of therapy and antianxiety meds couldn’t fix.
She doesn’t let go of me, and I don’t try to shake her off. “So, Captain, what do you need me to do?”
“Keep my ship running.”
She grins, dimples appearing. “Really milking this metaphor for all it’s worth, huh?”
I ignore the way my chest tightens and the growing pull to give in to my own smile. “I need someone who can keep my kids in line when I’m not home. I need someone who will give them structure, set boundaries, and make sure they stay on track with schoolwork and chores. Think you can handle that?”
“Sounds easy enough.”
I huff. “That’s what you think.”
“I know I may not look like it, and we didn’t meet under the best of circumstances, but I’m tougher than I appear.”
“Though she may be but little, she is fierce,” I quote, and she finally releases her hold on my wrist. I miss it immediately.
“You know Shakespeare?”
“Days were long when we weren’t deployed.”
“So you read Shakespeare?” she asks with a laugh, and I shrug.
“The library wasn’t very big. There were only so many books to go through, so a lot of them got reread.”
“Handsome and smart.” She clucks her tongue coquettishly. “Remind me why you aren’t married?”
“I was. She died from complications after giving birth to the twins.”
Andi inhales sharply. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you, but it was a long time ago,” I say, maybe a little too curtly, but I have a hard time reining in my feelings around her, and I’m not interested in divulging pieces of my past I’d rather not linger on.
“Still.” She frowns up at me. “You’ve lived three lives in one lifetime.”
I consider her words, hating that she’s making me feel these fucking emotions. I lock them down tighter, especially when her eyes round. “There hasn’t been anyone since? You never wanted to remarry?”
“The opportunity never came up.”
She hums like this is fascinating to her. Some kind of mystery to uncover. There isn’t. It’s simple.
I’m an asshole, and so are my kids. But she doesn’t need to know that. At least, not yet.
I bring us back to the issue at hand. “You think you can handle my ten-year-olds?”
She rolls her shoulders back, unflinching in her answer. “Yes.”
I should probably be more discerning in who I hire. More careful about their experience and ability to take control of a situation, but I’m tired.
I’m tired of not being able to trust the person in my house or my kids. I’m tired of stress, and I’d really like to be able to come home and relax. Maybe even enjoy myself for once.
“You’ll be able to take care of my kids and the house?”
“Definitely.” Her smile is pure confidence. Though she be but little, she is fierce .
“So, you’ll take the job?” I ask, extending my hand.
She glances at it, then back up at me, before sliding her palm against mine. We shake. Her grip is firm but her skin is soft, and neither of us lets go. I brush my thumb over the hummingbird on her wrist again, the rapid beat of her pulse like the flap of its wings.
I don’t know how long we stand like that, but it’s long enough for Cat to skulk into the room, meowing at our feet. Andi screeches happily, bending down to scratch behind his ears. “Oh my gosh! Who is this?”
“Cat,” I tell her.
“Yeah. What’s its name?”
“Cat.”
“You named your cat Cat?”
When I nod, she tosses her head back and laughs. The sound is infectious, filling the room, filling me. I love it. I want to hear more of it.
The corner of my mouth tugs. “I found him a few years ago when he was a kitten. We were going through the debris of a fire, and he was the only one left. The others didn’t make it. He wouldn’t leave me alone, so…”
“So, you took him in,” she finishes, lifting Cat into her arms. He immediately rolls to his back and relaxes, his paw flopping out to the side.
“More like he demanded I take him home.”
She pets his belly, and it’s the first time I’ve ever been jealous of an animal. “That’s really sweet.”
I shift side to side, uncomfortable with the praise. “It’s what anyone would do.”
She shakes her head. “No, not anyone. But you did.”
Our eyes meet again, and I want nothing more than to pick her up in my arms, hold her like she’s holding Cat. But it’s impossible.
Not when she’s going to be my kids’ nanny.
I’ve lost so many already. Fantasizing about fucking her, let alone doing it, would cost me yet another one.
“Do you want to see the rest of the house?” I ask, and she nods, setting Cat down.
Upstairs, we tour the kitchen and living room. I point out the calendar and the kids’ schedules. Andi asks questions, and I can tell she’s taking mental notes, remembering details. I like that. I like that she’s serious about this job. We move up to the top floor with the kids’ rooms and the bathroom they share, before we end up in my bedroom. I didn’t need to show her, but I hadn’t thought about it.
And now she’s admiring my corners.
I don’t imagine tossing her on my bed to mess up the meticulous sheets. She pivots to me, stating the obvious. “This is your room.”
“Yeah. It’s…where I sleep.”
Brilliant, you fucking idiot .
She smiles, like she knows what I’m thinking. Like she can read my mind. And maybe she can, because she takes a step closer, her eyes never leaving mine.
“It’s a nice room,” she says, all soft and pillowy. “A nice house.”
“Thank you.” My voice grates like a goddamn rusty nail.
We stand there, neither of us moving, neither of us speaking. The air thick with something unspoken, something unnamed. Yet I can’t act on it. I can’t cross that line.
It’s time to stop acting like a jackass and get my head on right. So, I take a giant step back. “Should we talk logistics?”
“My favorite,” she jokes and follows me downstairs, where we make plans for her to move in and start her job as the nanny. Both of us living under one roof.
Fucking brilliant .