If You Give a Single Dad a Nanny (Aspen Grove, #1)

by Ann Einerson

The final touch is a pink sticky note with have a magical day written on it.

I’m struck by the thought that I’ve never met someone this uniquely beautiful.

“Tell me, Marlow, is trespassing on other people’s property and coming into their homes uninvited a regular pastime for you and Waffles?”

“You shouldn’t frown so much or someday your face could get stuck that way.” Her tone is teasing.

“What is it?” I whisper. “You have paint on your face,” he says softly. My breath hitches when he slowly reaches out and drags his thumb across my chin, grazing my lower lip, his fingers resting lightly on my jaw.

I glance down at the smudge of red paint still on my finger. I should have scrubbed it off while washing up for dinner, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

God, why is she so damn pretty all the time? Even with paint on her face, she’s stunning… I dismiss the thought with a shake of my head. Happy. I meant, why is she so damn happy all the time?

Before I moved to Aspen Grove, I assumed small-town grocery stores like Doose’s Market in Gilmore Girls didn’t exist.

“You’re beautiful in whatever you wear, so a few extra layers won’t do you any harm, if you’re concerned about how you look.”

Even in text messages, she’s snarky, and her sunny disposition shines through. It’s incredibly irritating so I’m not sure why I’m smiling

“And what happens when you fall in love with Marlow?”

“He’s totally not my type.” That’s a lie. He looks like Clark Kent—he’s everyone’s type.

If I weren’t so wound up, I could stand here admiring her work all night and still find new elements to appreciate.

I have no idea what came over me, touching her like that, but it won’t be happening again.

SuRe

I tilt my head. “What’s the real reason you want me to leave?” “Marlow’s coming in the morning, and I hate waiting. If I go to sleep now, she’ll be here sooner.”

“It’s not surprising… considering you were the most beautiful woman in that room.” “You can’t say things like that,” she whispers.

Her breathing picks up, and her eyes fill with desire. She’s utterly irresistible.

“Dylan, what are you doing?” she murmurs. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you,” I say softly.

“What if I said you make me want to be a better person?”

She tastes like strawberries, pink lemonade, and all things sweet, and I never want this to end.

“Good girl,” I praise.

“We’ll talk about it when I’m in a condition to win the argument.”

He studies me closely like I’m a painting he’s trying to decipher.

“For starters, I really want to kiss you, and if we’re being blunt”—I glance down the hall to make sure Lola’s still in the other room—“I want to strip you bare and fuck you.”

“Mark my words, Marlow Taylor, when we finally get a moment to ourselves, I’m going to do much more than kiss you.”

She’s a goddamn vision and I want to make her mine.

Your mom will stop at nothing until we get together, huh?” “I hope not,” I admit.

I give her another passionate kiss to muffle the sound of her pleasure. I refuse to risk anyone else hearing those sweet sounds.

I think I’m in love with you.

I ran into her friend Quinn in the parking lot, and she told me Marlow was offered an artist residency in Paris.

Why does everyone tell each others business

“It’s only three months,” I remind her. “That’s twelve weeks, a fourth of a year, or approximately ninety days. It pales in comparison to spending forever with you.”

Dylan might think of me as the color in his life, but he’s the brushstroke and the canvas in mine.

“Watch what you fucking do to me, sunshine.”