Chapter 7
Wes
Ivy barrels into me, arms wrapping tight around my middle. I go still. Fuck. The last thing I need is her tight little body pressed up against me. I instinctively shift my hips back, to avoid any areas of me rubbing up against her.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Her eyes are screwed shut and her cheek is pressed against my sternum. I’m frozen in place. She’s hugging me so tightly I can feel every pad of her fingers digging into my back.
I know I’ve been a dick to her, but seeing the shock and nerves written on her face when I apologized just now, makes guilt churn in my stomach. I’ve been giving her the cold shoulder and doing my best to keep my distance, but now I’m starting to think that wasn’t the right move.
I’m trying like hell to be professional and unbothered by her presence, but coming home to her everyday this week, knowing she’s strictly off-limits, has been my own personal brand of torture.
Ivy is incredible with Lilah, and my daughter has become attached to her way faster than I was anticipating.
It wasn’t like this with the last nanny.
Lilah was fine with her, sure. Indifferent at best. But with Ivy?
She’s like a whole new kid. It’s Ivy this, and Ivy that all night long.
She talks about her before bed, and right when she wakes up.
Seeing how uncomfortable Ivy was talking to me when I got home… yeah, that gave me pause. Of course I want to hire her. I hate that she was surprised by that.
Ivy’s been a nonstop chatterbox since the day she started, and seeing her go quiet—no doubt because of me—makes me question how I’ve handled things.
Her weird jokes and wild, off-the-wall tangents have become something I actually look forward to.
And yet, all I’ve managed to do is act like an asshole in some distorted attempt to maintain boundaries.
My daughter deserves a nanny like Ivy, and pushing someone as good as her away because I can't get my own shit together? That’s not only unfair. It’s unacceptable.
You’d never guess it, considering how much of a tool I’ve been, but every day I struggle not to berate her with questions.
Like what she does when she goes home. I want to know where she lives, or if she likes it there.
I have to physically bite my tongue not to ask where she moved from, and why she chose Canyon Creek of all places.
I want to know what her favorite fucking food is so I can cook it, and invite her to dinner.
I wonder if Sophie would give me shit if I asked her for the information instead.
Ivy starts to pull away, and I realize I still haven’t moved. I’ve just been standing here like a corpse. Snapping out of it, I wind my arms around her small frame and hug her back.
I should not be doing this.
It’s just for a second, I tell myself. One second.
Apparently, a second is all it takes for me to memorize the feel of her. Holy shit, she smells good. Is that vanilla? There might be a little coconut in there. I’m contemplating sticking my face in her hair just to get a more defined smell.
I hear her small intake of breath, and my pulse thunders. I pull back, looking down to see the dreamy expression written across her face. Jesus, she’s fucking hypnotizing. Her eyes, her lips, the way her smile grows with every passing second I stare at her.
My palm absentmindedly slides down and rests on the small of her back. Her cheeks have a pink hue to them that wasn’t there before, and without warning, my brain flips through a hundred different ways I could make her blush even harder.
“Daddy, I’m hungry!” Lilah's voice carries from inside, effectively cutting through the tension filled air and breaking the spell.
Ivy and I wrench ourselves apart, and I practically throw my body to get away from her. I clear my throat and look at the ground, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Nice to meet you, hungry. I’m Daddy,” I call over my shoulder, running my hand through my hair with an uncomfortable laugh.
It’s quiet for a beat, but then Ivy speaks. “Hey,” she starts softly, but I cut her off.
“Have a good night, Ivy.” I give her a sharp nod, briefly meeting her stare, not giving her a chance to say anything.
My ability to keep my hands to myself is pretty much non-existent at this point and she needs to leave. If she lingers, I’ll do something crazy like grab her again or kiss her. Both are very bad ideas.
To my surprise, she rolls her eyes at me. I’ve seen glimpses of her attitude. It peeks through even when she thinks she’s being polite or professional. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.
“Bye,” she mutters, then stalks off to her car.
I wait until she’s inside with the engine running, and pulling away before I close the front door.
Way to maintain boundaries, idiot.
That was my one and only slip-up. I absolutely cannot allow myself to cross that line.
No touching Ivy in any capacity. No lingering hugs.
No thinking about the way her eyes flared when I held her, or the blush on her cheeks and neck.
No remembering how her plush lips parted, or her bratty fucking eyeroll.
Fuck.
Now I’m picturing what those lips would look like wrapped around my–
“Daddy!” Lilah yells in a singsong voice, pulling me out of my spiral.
I shake my head and let out a deep breath, refocusing on my daughter who has left her Play-Doh behind and is now climbing on the coffee table in the living room. No more daydreaming about the nanny. She is here to take care of Lilah and that is it. End of discussion. I won’t fuck that up.
“Deilah Mae, get down please. You’ll hurt yourself,” I say as I pass by her, heading into the kitchen to prepare dinner.
“Okay!” she chirps, then cannonballs off the coffee table, and onto the couch.
Well, she did what I asked.
————
I roasted some chicken, potatoes, and broccolini for dinner. Lilah only ate the potatoes, but ate two helpings, so I’ll call it a win. I do my best to make meals we can both eat, but I also won’t send her to bed on an empty stomach.
Seated on the floor, leaning back against the side of her bed, I watch Lilah scan her low mounted book shelf for a book to read.
She squats low, contemplating all her options.
Eventually, she makes her choice and hops into her bed.
She snuggles close under the covers, and rests her head partly on my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Daddy,” she yawns.
“Yeah, bug?”
“When is Monday?”
“In three sleeps,” I explain in her logic.
“Okay. Three sleeps until Iby,” she whispers.
It only takes four pages of her book to hear her soft snores. I kiss her head goodnight, then quietly stand, turning off her bedroom light and turning on her nightlight, casting colored stars around the room, before closing the door behind me.
The chaos of dinner and bedtime gave my mind a short reprieve from all things Ivy and our exchange on the porch.
Now that I’m alone and the house is quiet, it hits me like a damn freight train.
I wonder if she made it home safe. As much as I try not to, I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing right now.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I see Sophie’s name on the screen.
Sophie: Hi :) How are you and my perfect angel niece? How’s it been going with Ivy? Sorry this is the first I’m checking in, work has been crazy.
I refrain from interrogating my sister about her friend and settle down on the couch to respond.
Wes: Lilah’s good. She loves Ivy. No hiccups at work. You looking forward to summer break?
Sophie: So what you’re saying is, I was right about Ivy? You’re welcome. Also, yes. I need a drink by the pond.
I roll my eyes.
Wes: So humble.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I stare at the blinking cursor for a few moments before finally giving in, and not-so-subtly asking what I’ve been itching to know since her first message came through.
Wes: Does Ivy live far from here?
Sophie: She lives on the far side of town, closer to Silver Ridge. So… kind of. Why, dear brother, do you care where Ivy lives?
Wes: I don’t. Just curious.
I put my phone away, and ignore the next few chimes that I’m sure are from Sophie giving me a hard time.
Canyon Creek isn’t a big town, but driving all the way to the back of the property takes a while—longer than you’d think.
Even from my shop—Canyon Tattoo—on Main Street, it’s a bit of a drive.
I can’t help but worry about Ivy making that trip twice a day.
I wonder if it would be easier for her if she stayed in the guest room.
She wouldn’t have to worry about rent, and could use the space as her own.
I don’t know what her living situation is, but if she’s renting, maybe this setup would work better for her.
These are the types of things I refrain from asking her, but my resolve is starting to waver.
I inwardly scold myself. It’s been one week and I’m already trying to move her in.
This is what I was worried about. I can’t think like this.
Maybe I’ll bring it up when the timing makes more sense.
I’m certain it would be coming on too strong if I asked her to move in with us after one week.
I swear I can hear Sarah’s laugh echoing in my head, teasing me.
I need a beer.
————
Lilah and I had a great weekend. On Saturday, Maverick, Lincoln, Sophie and I took her to the waterpark in Silver Ridge, one town over.
At first, I’d only invited Maverick because Lilah specifically asked for her uncle Mav. Then I get a call from Lincoln, asking why he wasn’t invited. When I heard Linc's pickup roll into the driveway, I looked out the window and lo and behold, I watched as all three of my siblings hopped out.
Sophie marched right in with a fire up her ass. “What the hell, Wes? You invited Beavis and Butthead but not me?”