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

by Ann Einerson

It’s a daffodil. It represents new beginnings,

ladybug,

I’m an unintentional expert at procrastination.

Waffles might have the energy of a purebred Australian Shepherd, but his Corgi genes get in the way of his aspirations.

“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.” I gaze up at him, blinking in confusion. Did Dylan Stafford just call me beautiful?

That’s a lie. He looks like Clark Kent—he’s everyone’s type.

“Marlow’s coming in the morning, and I hate waiting. If I go to sleep now, she’ll be here sooner.”

“Are you checking me out?” I call Marlow out with a smirk.

Fuck it.

“Dylan, what are you doing?” she murmurs. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you,” I say softly. It’s not the first time. I imagine she tastes like strawberries and pink lemonade, sparking my curiosity to test my theory.

Good morning, sunshine, I hope you enjoy your breakfast. Have a great day. -Dylan

A couple of months ago, I would have been bothered by the disarray left downstairs, but now that I know what it feels like to have Marlow wrapped in my arms—to kiss her—I’m not so bothered by the mess anymore.

“Dylan and I can’t go more than five minutes of being in the same room without arguing.” “It’s called playful banter,” Quinn corrects me. “Which everybody knows is just another form of flirting.”

“Please don’t say sex and juices in the same sentence.”

I’ve spent a lot of time in therapy unpacking my issues related to my self-worth, and there are still days that it feels like I’m back at square one.

“That’s a damn shame.” Dylan brushes his thumb across my cheek. “You should be reminded every day of how exceptional you are.”

“Dylan,” I whisper. “You’re making a scene.”

“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.”

Waffles comes racing over from his dog bed in the corner, jumping in my arms. He nuzzles into me, whining and licking my face. I’ve always appreciated his uncanny ability to be in tune with my emotions.

I bring my fingers to my mouth, sucking them clean. Marlow bites her lip, watching me with rapture. I flash her a wicked grin as I groan, relishing the taste of her essence on my tongue.

I get so caught up in my own emotions that I miss how others interpret my words or actions. This often results in me unintentionally saying or doing the wrong thing.

I look down to where our bodies join. “Damn, look at you taking my cock like such a good girl.”

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” Dylan murmurs as he gazes down at me. “My masterpiece.”

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