Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
“Try me,” she challenged, waggling her eyebrows.
My cock twitched again as my body mistook her meaning. I found myself wanting to do just that. Try her. Taste her.
“Ask me to name any song off Incesticide,” she prompted.
I forced my eyebrows to stay where they were. I was surprised. Hannah Morgan knew Nirvana. And she was a fucking siren, calling to me with her playful gaze, the parting of her lips, the wisps of hair falling around her face. What would it look like tumbling down her back? Wrapped around my fist?
I cleared my throat loudly.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I was a grown fucking man, in the presence of my daughter, interviewing this woman—barely a woman—for a job. I was not a teenage boy, a slave to fucking testosterone.
“Nirvana trivia is not going to be a part of the interview questions,” I said tightly. “I’m Beau.”
I didn’t want to make contact with her, but I felt handcuffed by social graces. Children watched, imitated, and fuck it if having Clara forced me to be a polite goddamn person.
Her hand was tiny, dainty, clasped in mine. Again, my entire body reacted to her warm touch, to her holding eye contact, to that sly smile, to the flush in her high cheekbones.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw,” she said, keeping her eyes on me.
Mr. Shaw.
I imagined her calling me that. On her knees.
Jesus fucking Christ. I let go of her hand like it was charged.
She didn’t seem to notice, which was good since Clara was done letting the adults talk, pulling Hannah into our living room slash makeshift interview space.
That gave me a perfect view of Hannah Morgan’s pert, round, peach-shaped ass.
I took a deep breath, thinking of baseball, hospital machines, and chopping raw chicken.
My cock calmed enough to be able to walk into my living room, where Clara was getting Hannah settled, offering refreshments as she had with the other women.
Hannah’s warm gaze on my child, the tender way she spoke to her, with all of her attention and no condescension, did different things to my body than the view of her ass had. But it still made me feel warm and interested in her when I shouldn’t have felt anything at all.
“Let’s get started.” I probably sounded feral, insane. Which was fine. Anything that would ensure Hannah Morgan left and never came back.
Hannah dipped her chin in acknowledgement, watching Clara climb up on the seat beside mine, clipboard in hand, expression serious though she smiled at Hannah. I watched her draw a heart beside her name.
I opened my mouth to ask the necessary questions, even though they didn’t matter. We weren’t going with her. She was too young to take care of my entire world. Too gorgeous for me to ignore.
“What’s your opinion on spiders?” Clara asked before I could open my mouth.
Hannah, to her credit, didn’t burst out laughing. She kept her measured, serious gaze on Clara. “Depends on the context and subspecies. But I think … misunderstood, powerful, and interesting.”
Clara smiled, scribbling on her notepad then adding a smiley face. “Tarantulas are my favorite. Daddy won’t let me get a real one.” She pouted. It was the most endearing sight in the world.
“Probably smart.” Hannah’s eyes touched on me, and I felt them on my skin like a fucking caress. “Men can’t handle spiders well.” She rolled her eyes at Clara.
I cleared my throat again. I needed to take charge of this interview, even though I had never been more content than watching the two of them interact.
“It says here you’re in your final year of nursing school,” I said, looking down at my paper.
Hannah nodded somberly, focusing on me again. “I am. I’m currently taking a … sabbatical.”
“Too hard?” I questioned harshly. I regretted it when I saw the wince on Hannah’s pretty face. Causing her pain hurt me. How did that happen? I didn’t go out in the world with the intent to hurt people; I wasn’t a monster. But as a rule, I wasn’t overly concerned with the feelings of others.
Clara’s feelings, her health, her happiness, that was all I worried about.
“No.” Hannah spoke strongly, her chin tilted upward, hinting at a stubborn streak. “It was a financial issue. I’m planning on working for a year or more to get enough funds to pay for my final year of tuition.”
Fuck. I really was an utter asshole.
Her situation aligned almost perfectly with our needs. I only wanted a full-time nanny these next several months, before Clara went to kindergarten. If she was well enough. If the transplant worked. If she made it to another birthday.
That was the goal, but having her away from me for that many hours of the day, under the care of underpaid adults watching a bunch of other children, had bile inching up my throat.