Chapter 1
MELODIE
Iam done dating older men. This is the last time.
And Jake wasn’t even that much older. Twenty-six to my twenty-one, and he already had too much.
Too much history, prejudice, and problems. He thought I would do the same things his exes did and spent half his time complaining about the way women treated him in the past.
Goodness’ sake. I’m no one’s mother and no one’s therapist. All I wanted was a boyfriend.
“Next!”
I lift my eyes from the glass display, glancing at the girl behind the counter. “Oh, hey, Diana.”
“Hey, Mel,” she greets back, meeting my eyes, then wincing. “Everything alright?”
“What do you mean?” I straighten my spine, walking to the front of the line. This bakery is my favorite thing in town, and I am allowed to have some God-sent sugar today. I know I’ve been trying to shed some pounds but today sucked too bad for me to avoid donut heaven.
Diana presses a forefinger between her brows. “You’re glaring so hard there’s a canyon between your eyebrows.” And she smirks.
I laugh, then massage my forehead with the heel of my hand. Glaring gives you wrinkles, Mom would say. Apparently, she’s right. “Sorry. Had a rough day.”
Diana shoots a glance over her shoulder. “It’s not yet one in the afternoon.”
This early, and I’m already back home. “Yeah. I was fired.”
Diana’s brows shoot up her forehead. “No way! From the accounting office? I thought you were doing well there.”
I shrug. “Eh. I was just a secretary. Nothing much to do.” I wave off. “No worries. I’ll find something new in no time.”
Diana bites her lip to hold back a smile. We’ve only met like this—quick chats across the counter—but she’s teased me for being too sunny several times. No use being stormy when the world is already so bad. “Okay,” she says. “How can I help you today, then?”
I order four of my favorite donuts, then she convinces me to add two to make up a box. She even gives me a discount, which I give back to her as a fat tip. After throwing a wink over my shoulder in her direction, I leave the bakery and make my way home.
At least my heels are sturdy. Breaking them would be the typical start to a romcom—breaking up, losing a job, breaking a heel. That would lead to meeting some black-haired, blue-eyed man twice my age, maybe with some gray hairs on his beard, and he would sweep me off my feet.
No sweeping off feet allowed here. Not anymore.
I just lost my job because Jake was not only salty I broke up with him but also vengeful.
He had many downsides, but I wasn’t aware of the vengeful spirit inside him.
He talked shit about me, came up with some lies, called on some favors, and got me kicked out of the firm.
Simple like that. His word against mine, and I meant nothing.
Even with how hard I worked, I was still a girl who they didn’t quite trust with important shit.
I sigh, my shoulders dropping for a moment. No use crying over spilled milk now. I eye my donut box and grip it tighter. Shit, I would cry for spilled donuts, though. Please, don’t trip, don’t trip.
One thing I’ve always believed in is that when a door closes, another one opens. Or a window. Or you grab a hammer and make a new door through the wall. I won’t be stopped because of one problem. I will get back up, dust off my knees, and move on, like every other time in my life.
My building comes into sight, and I force a smile on my face.
I’ll have a day off, maybe two, then I’ll dive into job-seeking.
Mom agreed to share the rent with me so I could leave home, and I’ve saved up enough to pay for several months in case I got fired.
Just because I’m upbeat, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t always be prepared.
Letting my purse slip off my shoulder, I search for my keys with a hand, praying to God my donuts hold.
They do, and I open the front door and slip in.
It’s not the grandest of buildings, but the neighborhood is quiet and safe—Mom’s only condition on my moving out.
There are a bunch of families in the building and a small park with a playground right across the street.
The notice board catches my eye as I move into the foyer. A new sheet makes me stop and read. It’s short and handwritten, something unique nowadays. The calligraphy is bulky, square letters spaced out, almost like something a writing machine would do.
Babysitter needed. 9-5, with lunch break. $25/hour.
Extra hours and weekends will be paid double.
My eyes almost fall out of their sockets. Holy shit. That’s a lot of money compared to what I made as a secretary. I rip the paper off the board in astonishment, then notice I shouldn’t have done this. Oopsie. Scanning the paper, I look for whoever I must beg to get this job.
Interested parties must talk to Rhett, apartment 25.
My next-door neighbor! What are the chances?
A smile stretches across my lips, and I allow it to become a grin.
Wow, I can’t wait to tell Mom! But then, I haven’t even told her I was fired.
I haven’t even told her I broke up with Jake.
She didn’t like him, anyway. She used to say he was too old for me. Turns out she was right.
I shake my head, forcing Jake out of the way. Turning to the stairs, I climb them with my heart fluttering. A door closes, and another one opens. This is my chance. Work close to home, making some good money, with no time wasted on a commute. This can’t get any better.
And I don’t even care that I never cared for children before. I’ll make it do.
Reaching apartment twenty-five, I don’t even stop.
Raising my fist, I knock twice, then three times in quick succession.
God, I hope this Rhett guy is here. Even with us sharing a hallway, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him.
Doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’ll have to spend time with him.
I wouldn’t mind even if the child was a brat.
The door opens, and the man standing there is... Not what I expected.
My jaw drops. He’s... so freaking tall. And large.
Bulky. Burly. I don’t know how to describe him.
His head is taller than the doorframe, that’s for sure, and he’s as large as the freaking door.
Shit. I like it. I like it so much. Dark hair, striking blue eyes.
It’s almost like this is a joke Fate sent my way.
No gray hair on his beard, though, because he doesn’t have one.
Instead, there’s dark stubble across his chin, and then I remember I shouldn’t be gawking with my mouth open.
“Hi,” I blurt out, my cheeks going hot. “I’m here about the ad.” And I show him the piece of paper.
He gives me one long look, then glares at me. “You ripped the paper off?” he asks, and oooh, his voice. It’s thick. Like honey-thick, caramel-thick, and whisper-in-my-ear thick.
“Hm...” It’s obvious I did. There’s no use lying. So I change strategies. “I’m your next-door neighbor. Name’s Melodie. You can call me Mel. Who’s the kid?”
And as he parts his lips to reply—probably with a nasty comment on how rude I am—a small head pokes between his legs, blinking huge, black eyes at me. She has dark hair, perfectly combed back, then tied in twin braids. Whoever did her hair did a good job.
“Hello,” the little girl says. “I’m Katie.”
Bending at the waist, I smile at the little girl. “Hello, Katie. I’m Melodie, but you can call me Mel.”
She smiles. “Are you my nanny?”
“If Daddy wants me to.” A jolt of electricity runs through me, and I shoot my spine straight. The word wasn’t supposed to sound dirty. Then why does it feel like Rhett is glaring at me?
“Please, Daddy!” she says, turning to the man and tugging on his pants. “Let the pretty lady be my nanny!”
She can’t be older than six, and I have had no contact with children, but she called me pretty and I already love her.
“Hmm,” Rhett mutters, but it’s more of a grunt as he curls his upper lip. “How old are you, anyway? Should you be at college or something?”
I wave it off. “Twenty-one. And I have something better than college.” And I turn back to Katie, opening my donut box. “Do you like donuts?”
The girl squeals and picks up a pink donut before she runs into the house again. And from the glare Rhett is sending my way, I’m pretty sure I nailed it.
Then why is my stomach twisting and turning? Why do I feel like I might regret this?