The Nanny

by Lana Ferguson

I mean, good tits should really earn their keep. I think Margaret Thatcher said that once.

His eyes are a clash of one brown and one green, the colors not bright but subtle, like warm tea and seawater that are hard to look away from.

I should stop staring at his hands, in any case. Even if they are large enough to make a girl mentally calculate when her last date was.

“It could all be some elaborate scheme to lure you to his house so he can lock you in his basement.” “He lives in a town house,” I tell her. “I don’t even think they have basements.”

Sounds like they’ve had some bad luck in the nanny department lately.” “They’re probably all in the basement.”

Her nose wrinkles. “What’s Shrek?” “You’ve never seen Shrek?” “No.” “Sophie. It’s a cultural phenomenon. An epic love story. A comic masterpiece. I can’t in good conscience allow you to continue through life without having seen it.” “It sounds weird.”

“I’m too old for princesses,” she says stoically. “Well, when we’re done we can visit the retirement home.”

“Have I told you yet about my friend’s basement theory?” He grimaces. “Do I want to know?” “That depends. Where do you stand on kidnapping jokes?” “I think this is a good time to make it clear that I don’t actually have a basement.” “My friend would say that’s what you want me to think,” I answer grimly.

“Did I miss anything interesting this week?” “Well, I’ve been introducing Sophie to my underground gambling ring, but she hasn’t impressed me yet.”

It isn’t fair that he is so good-looking. Paired with the fact that he’s sweet and funny and doing his best as a single dad . . . my ovaries are forming their own fan club at this point.

The man who had made me feel something and then made me feel utterly stupid for doing so when he logged off and never came back. Because Aiden Reid, very-hot-but-very-off-limits boss, used to watch my channel. He used to watch it a lot.

Hadn’t my last experience with caring about a woman out of my reach taught me anything? How much of a disappointment had it been when I let my loneliness drive me to make terrible judgment calls only to be delivered a rude awakening when I had learned none of it had been real?

God, how in the hell did I manage to form a crush on the same man twice? One who is as out of my reach now as he’d been then?

“First of all, you assume any fault to be had is with the man. You have good tits and a better brain, and that means you are automatically hands above the rest.”

“Cassie, only liars say they’re fine. You know that right?”

at the end of the day, this is just a job, he is just a guy, I am just the nanny, and there’s no reason to let any of this bother me. But he has a face now. He tells jokes. He asks about my day. He kisses his daughter’s hair. He ruins pancakes. He listens to me when I tell him my concerns. He worries about how I’m feeling.

“You think I’m out of your league?” Jesus Christ, what have I done? Is it still too late to run away? “I mean . . . objectively speaking, it’s obvious that you’re—” “I don’t think it’s that obvious,” he says flatly. “Objectively speaking.”

“If anything,” Aiden says, “you’d be out of mine.”

“You’re wearing the shirt again.” “It’s my favorite.” He makes a sound I’ve never heard him make before, something like a groan and a whine that I feel all the way down to my toes. “It’s mine too.”

“Shh,” he soothes, his hand reaching to cup my jaw as his thumb presses against my lips. “Be good, Cassie. You have to be good so I can fuck you.”

“Good,” he grinds out, the sound harsh in my ears. “Good girl.” I shiver, making a pitiful sound as my insides give another vain squeeze. Aiden rubs soothing circles at my thigh. “You like that?” I feel his hand slipping between us, his thumb pressing against my clit to tease me. “Like hearing how well you take me?”

“You have to be quiet, Aiden,” she says with that same coy smile. She teases the tip with her tongue, just enough to make me gasp. “Can you be quiet for me?” “Careful,” I whisper in warning.

“What should I be careful of?” “You should be careful that I don’t actually fuck that pretty mouth.”

“I know. Am I a horrible person?” “For which part: sleeping with your boss, or not telling him he used to watch you diddle your skittle on camera?” “Oh my God.”

You can’t plan your whole future just because of one bad day from the past.”

I just hate the idea of her putting herself through hell with worry when she could have been honest with me.

“I’m angry that you dealt with this alone. I’m angry that you spent all this time worrying that I would push you away without giving me the chance to tell you that there is absolutely no way I’m letting you get away again.”

I’m trying to pull myself out of my gloomy mood by blasting Taylor Swift’s entire discography on the drive to the restaurant, but even my Spotify seems to be against me today, playing entirely too much evermore and not nearly enough Red. It’s like the universe wants me to cry today. Fickle bitch, I’m telling you.

You can have good things, but you have to let yourself have them.”

“Will you be making pancakes?” “I will not be making pancakes.” “Hmm. Well, in that case . . .” He smiles as he pulls me in for another kiss, and I melt into it, my heart doing a happy little dance as I feel that hole in my chest quietly close, like it was never even there.

His lips press against the corner of my mouth, and I can feel his smile there, like it’s imprinted on my skin. “I love you too.”

“We can never, ever tell Sophie how we met.” Aiden laughs, already pulling me in again. “Whatever you say, Cici.”

It’s not every day that you find love because of a booby cam.

I lean in to kiss her, enjoying the way some of the tension leaves her body. “Do whatever you want with your future. As long as I’m part of it.”

I let my hand drift to my pocket where the little velvet box sits, grinning against Cassie’s mouth, because we do have plenty to celebrate. And we’re just getting started.