Chapter 11
Wes
“Hi,” Ivy replies.
God, she’s beautiful. Her hair looks damp, like she just showered.
It’s cascading in waves around her shoulders, and framing her fresh face.
She’s got these big turtle-shell glasses on, I’m assuming because she’s writing on the laptop she has out.
They’re hot as fuck. Fantasies of sexy librarian Ivy come to the forefront of my mind just as she starts to stand.
She’s been wrapped in the big blanket we have on the couch, but as each inch of her body comes into view, I feel my mouth open along with it. She’s wearing a light grey, thread-bare tank top that stops a couple inches above the waistline of her soft-looking, matching pants.
I drag my eyes from her bare feet on the living room carpet, up her legs, then to the few inches of her exposed tight, toned stomach. My eyes catch on her perky, round breasts straining against the thin top. No bra. Hard nipples.
No. Please no. As my eyes adjust to the low lighting, I see the stretched fabric of her tank top is doing absolutely nothing to conceal the gleam of metal beneath.
Pierced nipples.
Paralyzed by this revelation, I’m unable to move my eyes any further.
My baser instincts have taken over, and I can’t do anything but stare.
She has her fucking nipples pierced. My cock quickly swells to the point of discomfort at the sight, and I’m immediately thankful the counter is blocking my lower half.
“Ah-hem!”
Ivy’s mock throat clearing finally breaks the spell those twin bars of silver had on me. With palms braced on the counter, I flick my eyes up to meet hers. She’s pushed her glasses up onto her head, sweeping her waves away from her face, and one eyebrow is arched.
Busted.
“Wesley Arnold Cooper…” she trails off, shaking her head.
“Not my middle name,” I mutter, refusing to look away from her. I can’t. Also, I don’t want to.
“I am the nanny,” she says, feigning offense. “You can’t look at me like that. I am absolutely scandalized.” She clutches her chest, giving me an exaggerated look of outrage.
She’s obviously teasing me, but she’s not wrong.
I let out a deep, long sigh. “I know,” I say, seriously.
Her expression softens. “Hey, I’m only kidding. Wes, it’s okay,” she gestures between her and I, “Boss. Employee. Professional. Boundaries. I get it.”
I nod, relieved she brought it up, and feeling like a total ass for not being the one to do it.
She goes on, “Look, I was fired from my last job. I hated it, but still, it sucked. You hiring me gave me freedom to do the things I enjoy. I’m way less stressed, I can write.” She gives me a gentle smile. “So trust me when I say, I don't want to do anything that would jeopardize this job, too.”
I frown. I would never fire her, unless she did something to endanger Delilah, or… I don’t know, stole all of my money.
“Ivy, I’m not going to fire you. If anything, I worry I’m going to do something to make you quit,” I admit, gripping the back of my neck.
“I can’t do that to Delilah. She adores you.
I’ve never seen her become so attached to someone so fast. I won’t do that to her, can’t do that to her. We have to have boundaries.”
She begins to shake her head, looking as if she’s about to say something, but I stop her.
“Really, Ivy. I can’t.”
She looks at me for a moment, weighing my words, but eventually, she nods.
“Okay,” she says with a small smile.
She folds the blanket and drapes it over the back of the couch. I watch her take the glasses out of her hair, and begin to gather her computer when I finally say something.
“Hey, I interrupted you. You don’t need to leave. The space is yours too. Unless you’re tired.”
Her nose scrunches up like she’s deciding. I know the speech I just gave says I should encourage her to go to her room, but I can’t deny that I want to get to know her. Maybe we can be friends.
The word makes me sick.
She still hasn’t answered, so I offer, “We can be friends right? Beer?” I grab two bottles from the fridge and hold them up.
“Okay. Friends.”
————
“No way.” I shake my head at Ivy’s ridiculous story.
“I swear to you it happened. Soph can back me up,” she says with a self deprecating laugh.
“I bent over to grab the whiteboard marker, and my pants split. Right up the crack. Thank god I was wearing my period underwear. I had to go to the office to get a change of clothes.” I take a swig of my beer, and bite down on a smile.
“Which just ended up being basketball shorts from the lost and found that were two sizes too big, and had to be rolled four times.”
Ivy laughs and covers her eyes in embarrassment.
We're sitting next to each other on the couch at a respectable distance, and her bare feet are propped up next to my socked ones on the coffee table. Thankfully, she had mercy on me and threw on a light sweater. I’ve never despised a piece of clothing so much.
I’m doing my best not to obsess over her shiny black toe nail polish. When have I ever cared about a woman’s toes? Never, is when. I’ve never had a foot fetish.
I’m starting to think I just have an Ivy fetish.
“Did you really hate it?” I ask her, referring to her earlier comment about teaching.
She shrugs one shoulder. “Hate’s a strong word, I guess.
I didn’t love it. I knew I didn’t want to teach forever.
I’ve always loved writing, and haven’t really been good at anything else.
I’m kind of glad I got fired.” She scoffs, and picks at the label of her beer.
“I don’t know if I would’ve ever taken that leap, and left.
You know?” She rests her head on the back of the couch and speaks up to the ceiling.
“I was only doing it because of some obligation I felt I had.”
“What obligation?” I’m trying to find out every single thing about her, without seeming like a creep, or interrogating her.
She doesn’t answer right away, but after a few beats she says, “My parents were teachers.”
I don’t miss her past tense.
“I guess I was just trying to feel as close to them as I could. They both loved it. I tried my best… I just didn’t love it like they did.”
Her voice has gotten so quiet. I know I need to tread carefully. I turn to look at the side of her face, taking in every feature.
“What happened?”
It’s an open ended question, giving her room to decide how much she wants to divulge.
“They died. A little over eight years ago.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Car accident.”
Jesus.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Ivy.”
“Me too,” she whispers.
“Is that why you moved here? Shit, sorry. You don’t have to answer that.” I wince.
None of your business, asshole.
“No, it’s okay, really. You deserve to know about the woman taking care of your kid.
” She lets out a breath, the air vibrating her lips.
“No, that’s not exactly why I moved here.
My parents died while I was in college. I don’t really have any extended family.
I have an aunt on my dad’s side, but she lives on the east coast, and I only ever met her once.
My mom and dad were older parents, so theirs were already gone when I was young. ”
She takes a sip of her beer, and I do the same.
“I met Daniel, my ex, a few months after they passed. I was… drowning in grief,” she murmurs, and her expression hardens.
I can feel my hackles rise.
“It’s a miracle I even stayed in school.
When I met him in class, and he showed interest in me, I clung to him like my life depended on it,” she shakes her head, letting out an audible sigh.
“In retrospect, I think he knew he was all I had, and took advantage of that. He got more manipulative over the years, and I just took it. I didn’t want him to leave me.
I was terrified of change, and what it’d mean for me.
I had friends, but they were all his friends too. If I left, I’d be alone again.”
My chest aches for her. She’s talking so softly. The energetic, sassy Ivy is nowhere to be seen right now.
“What made me leave was finding the thong in his back seat.”
She snorts, and my blood turns to ice at the thought of anyone treating Ivy that way. Bastard didn’t know what he had.
“I knew if I stayed after that, my mother would turn in her grave. I secretly searched for jobs in fear of him finding out and trying to force me to stay. We’d been together so long, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to resist him.
I found a teaching job in some place called Canyon Creek, and left.
It’s been two years, and I’ve taken that time to heal, go to therapy.
I’m okay with being on my own. But now I have Sophie, and Rose. ”
“And us,” I cut in.
“And you guys.” She gives me a sidelong glance, finally giving me a real smile, and I feel the vice on my heart lessen its grip.
“I could fucking kill that asshole,” I grit out.
She turns her head to look at me, still resting it against the couch, and I mirror her.
“Easy, tiger,” she says around a laugh, trying to add levity.
“You deserved better,” I respond.
I don’t know when, or how, but we’ve managed to scoot closer together. Our thighs, barely brushing. Our heads are only inches apart.
“I know,” she says softly.
“Good.”
We hold each other’s stare, neither one of us looking away. She studies me, and my gaze quickly drops to her full, pink lips, then back up to meet her eyes. The tension between us grows, getting heavier every second the silence stretches.
“Wes?” she asks.
“Hm?” I feel drunk, and not from the beer.
“Um,” she whispers. “What if–”
She doesn’t continue, just lets those few words hang between us for several seconds.
“What if,” I repeat. “What if what, Ivy?” My voice is hoarse, damn near unrecognizable to my own ears.
She bites the corner of her lip, like she’s deciding if she should follow her train of thought.
“Ask,” I say.
I don’t think I could stop this if I tried.
“What if,” she finally responds. She only pauses for a second, before she finally puts me out of my misery. “We kissed, just once. Just one,” she says, and my pulse quickens. It feels like time stops, and warps all at the same time.
I want to taste those lips. I know once won’t be nearly enough, but I’ll take what I can get. I open my mouth to respond, but before I get the chance to say yes or beg for more than just one, I hear it. I hear the universe stepping in.
Sniff.
“Daddy?” Lilah’s watery voice comes from down the hall.
Ivy’s eyes widen, and it’s as if a cleaver fell, severing whatever bubble we were just in. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.
My eyes slowly fall shut, and I release a ragged exhale.
I feel Ivy’s shoulders begin to shake, and when I reopen my eyes to look at her, I see her covering her face, laughing.
She drops her hands, and looks at me briefly before glancing away, lifting her legs off the coffee table and moving to stand.
She looks shy all of sudden, or maybe embarrassed. I don’t want her to be embarrassed. Fuck, I felt it too.
I place my hand on her leg, stopping her and squeezing gently. “Thank you. For telling me all of that.”
She freezes, and slices her gaze down to where my hand grips her. She looks over her shoulder at me, and with a polite but strained smile, she replies, “Maybe one day you can return the favor.”
“Yeah, maybe I will.” I remove my hand, and stand just as Lilah finally emerges.
“Daddy, I had a bad dream.” She sniffs, rubbing her eyes. “Can you and Iby tuck me back in?”
I scoop Lilah up and look over to Ivy in question. She nods in answer, cheeks still a little pink.
“Yeah, bug. Let’s go. It was just a dream, okay? Everything is fine, you’re safe,” I tell her as I rub small circles on her back. She nods, and continues to burrow into my shoulder.
When we get into Lilah’s darkened room, I lay her down and cover her up. Ivy leans down and tucks the covers tightly around her body.
“This is how my mom and dad used to tuck me in. I loved it,” Ivy whispers, going all the way down her body, then shoving Burrito into her tight cocoon.
“There. How do you like it?”
“I lub it,” Delilah whispers.
“Told ya.”
“Twins.”
Ivy snickers and whispers back, “Twins.”
I look at both of them in confusion, clearly not a part of their inside joke. I kiss Lilah goodnight, and gently stroke the top of her head until she drifts off again. When I sneak out, I notice Ivy waiting for me in the hallway.
“I just wanted to say thank you before bed,” she speaks in a hushed tone, with a thumb hiked over her shoulder, pointing at her room. “You didn’t have to do all that. I feel really bad that you went through all of that trouble. I appreciate it. It’s really sweet.”
Realizing she’s talking about the guest room makeover, I smooth my hair back with a hand then stuff my hands into my pockets and reply, “Don’t. It was no big deal, I needed to spruce it up anyway.”
Lie.
I never would’ve done that if it weren’t for her, but I’m desperately trying not to throw all of my cards on the table.
“Oh, right. Well, thanks anyway.”
I offer her a small smile and nod. “Night, Ivy.”
“Good night, Wes.”
Wesley, I want to correct, but don’t.