If You Give a Single Dad a Nanny: a single dad, grumpy sunshine, small town romance
If You Give a Single Dad a Nanny: Chapter 18

THIS IS A REALLY BAD idea.

Why the hell did I suggest I stay with Marlow while she took a bath?

Because she’s sick and needs your help.

Tell that to my rock-hard cock straining against my boxer briefs while I watch her pull her shirt over her head, revealing a lilac lace bra. Her breasts spill out over the top, evoking an image of her straddling me while I worship her perfect tits. I force myself to avert my gaze before she catches me gawking.

You’d think that Marlow being both off-limits as the nanny and a decade younger than me would tamp down my attraction, but it seems to have the opposite effect.

The energy has shifted between us since that night at Willow Creek Café, and despite our best efforts to avoid the subject, the attraction between us is palpable. I can’t shake the sense that it’s only a matter of time before the dam breaks, unleashing the pent-up sexual tension between us.

“Could you help keep me steady while I step out of my shorts?” Marlow’s question snaps me out of my thoughts, and I blink at her, unsure if I heard her right.

“Uh, yeah… sure.” I stumble over my words.

“Thanks, I’m a little dizzy, so it’d be nice to have something to hold on to,” she hurries out.

“There’s no need to explain. I’m happy to help.” More than I should be. “Put your hands on my shoulders,” I direct her.

“Okay.”

When she’s in position, I grab hold of her hips and lift her to a standing position. She wobbles slightly, but I tighten my grip to keep her steady. She holds firmly to my shoulders as I bend to tug off her sleep shorts, and my pulse races at our close proximity. Despite my best attempts to avert my gaze, I catch a glimpse of her baby blue underwear, her sinful curves on display. It tests my self-control not to take another look.

I force myself to focus on the task at hand and toss Marlow’s shorts out of the way. The smell of citrus and rose envelopes the room as I carry her over to the claw-foot bathtub and lower her down until she’s seated in the water.

“This feels so nice,” she moans.

My dick jerks in response, and I have to discreetly adjust my pants to hide my reaction to the sexy sounds coming from her mouth. I’ve got to get a grip.

“Would you mind getting my shampoo and conditioner for me?” Marlow asks.

“Yeah, no problem.” I grab both bottles from the ledge below the window. and set them on the edge of the tub. “Want me to wash your hair?” I immediately cringe at my offer, remembering that it’s not a normal question to ask a grown woman. “I’m sorry, I’m in the habit of asking Lola,” I explain, hoping I didn’t sound creepy.

It comes with the territory of being a girl dad with an independent six-year-old. Some days, she welcomes the help, and others, she’s offended that I don’t think she can do it herself.

Marlow peers up at me. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.”

I kneel on the ground next to the tub and unbutton the cuffs of my dress shirt, rolling up my sleeves. It’s a habit to avoid getting splashed on, but right now I couldn’t care less about getting my shirt wet. I’m too focused on the fact that I’m about to help bathe my gorgeous next-door neighbor and have to pretend I’m unaffected.

“It’s comical seeing you on the floor in slacks and a dress shirt.” Marlow giggles.

I raise a brow. “I’m dressed like this every day.”

“Sure, when you’re going to or from the office. I just can’t get over the image of you doing household chores in business attire.”

“And tell me how you imagine me dressed when I’m doing chores?”

Her cheeks flush as she glances down at the water. “Uh… I’m not sure.”

Before I say anything that’ll get me in trouble, I lean down over Marlow as I rinse her hair, one arm easing her backward, using my other hand to scoop water over her hair. Her eyes fall shut and I take the moment to appreciate the view before me. Her lips are slightly parted, and she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup, giving me an unobstructed view of the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose.

My eyes wander to her wet lilac bra that is now see-through and I trace every bump and differentiating shade of her pebbled nipples. My gaze slowly moves back to Marlow’s face, to replace her watching me intently, her chest rising and falling more rapidly than before.

Our unspoken desires fill the charged air.

She’s utterly captivating, and if our circumstances were different, I wouldn’t think twice about taking her to bed, and worshiping her the way she deserves. As it is, the kiss we shared a couple of days ago could be the closest I’ll ever get to a night with Marlow Taylor. Although I hope that’s not the case.

“Sit up now.”

She does as I ask, looking up at me with a tentative smile.

“Good girl,” I praise.

Marlow’s eyes widen and she drags her teeth across her lips. It seems I’m not the only one affected by calling her good girl. Although this isn’t the setting in which I’d prefer to use the term. I might be reserved, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a bossy streak in the bedroom.

Marlow pulls her knees to her chest as she watches me intently.

I grab the bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub and squeeze a generous dollop into my hand. She tips her head back as I run my fingers through her sun-kissed hair, massaging the soap into her scalp in slow, steady circles. Her body visibility relaxes at my touch, and I realize that I enjoy taking care of her. I think that’s why I started making breakfast her each morning. It’s something that I can do to make sure she’s getting at least one healthy meal a day without crossing any boundaries.

“Mmm.” Marlow hums her approval when I rub her templates. “God, you’re so good at this,” she says.

I can’t help my thoughts straying as I imagine what it would be like to hear her say those words when we’re both naked and she’s lying on the bed. I’d kneel in front of her, my hands gripping her thighs as I gazed up to replace a wanton expression on her face while I brought her unbridled pleasure. I’d lick her pussy with my tongue, her fingers tangled in my hair as I worked her clit hard, telling her to be my good girl and come for me.

What am I doing?

Marlow is sick. Now isn’t the time to let my imagination run wild, no matter how much I wish I could do more with her at this moment.

I clear my throat. “I’ve had a lot of practice, remember?”

After I’ve rinsed out the shampoo using the shower attachment, conditioned her hair and rinsed it out a second time, I grab a towel and her robe from the back of the bathroom door.

She takes my hand as I help her out of the tub, but insists on drying herself off while I stand within arm’s reach in case she needs me.

Her bra and panties are still damp, and I quickly help her into her robe when I notice the goosebumps covering her arm. I carry her to the bed, and get a pair of pajamas from her blue ombre dresser on the other side of the room.

The next two minutes are torture while she makes me face the wall, so she can change out of her wet underwear. When she’s finished, I turn around to replace her sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing the matching pink tank top and shorts I choose for her.

God, she’s downright irresistible.

My hands are clammy, and my breathing is shallow knowing that she’s not wearing panties under her sleep shorts right now. She didn’t ask me to get her a pair when she asked for clothes, and it’s taking all my resolve from letting my mind wander again.

“Do you want me to brush your hair?” I rasp out.

She nods, with a tired expression.

I grab a hairbrush from the bathroom and sit on the bed behind Marlow, with her back to my front. I run the brush through her hair in slow, steady strokes, careful not to tug too hard. Her waist-length hair cascades in golden waves down her back, and once I’ve got all the tangles out, I begin to plait a French braid.

“What are you doing?” She tilts her head back, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“Braiding your hair. I figured it’d be better to have it out of your face while you sleep.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” She gives me a small smile before turning her head to face forward. “I’ve never met another man who’s as skilled at styling hair as you are. I’m impressed.”

“That’s nice of you to say. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but Maddie, Lola’s mom, left when she was a baby. Back then, there were a lot of external factors controlling my life, but the one aspect I had power over was my reaction to the situation. Early on, I committed to do everything I could to guarantee Lola didn’t miss out on a happy childhood because her mom wasn’t around.”

I pause, fastening a hair tie to the end of Marlow’s braid. “That meant memorizing the CoComelon theme song when she was a toddler, learning to style her hair, and cutting sandwiches into the shape of unicorns and rainbows. I’d gladly do it all a hundred times over to make sure she knows that she’s loved unconditionally.”

“What happened to Maddie?” Marlow pauses as she turns to look at me. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

I usually don’t like talking about it but with Marlow I feel inclined to open up and share more of my past with her.

“Maddie and I started dating in high school. In hindsight, I suspect part of her attraction was linked to my family’s financial status. Unfortunately for her, I’ve never been interested in living an extravagant lifestyle, which became a source of conflict between us. We frequently argued, especially when I broached the topic of marriage or having kids.” I draw in a deep breath as I rake my hand through my hair. “I was blindsided when Maddie left us when Lola was only six weeks old.”

Marlow lets out a sharp gasp. “Where did she go?” Her tone is hushed.

“As far as I know she moved to Canada. I haven’t heard from her since she left.”

I was heartbroken when Maddie threw away ten years with me like it meant nothing and that she so easily left her daughter behind. I spent years resenting her for what she did, but eventually the anger and betrayal morphed into gratitude for giving me Lola in the first place.

When I look back at Marlow I’m alarmed when I see tears streaming down her face.

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” I wipe away a stray tear with the pad of my thumb. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.” I start to pull my hand away, but Marlow reaches out to hold it in place against her cheek, pressing a kiss to my palm.

“I’m okay, I promise.” She offers me a comforting smile. “You’ve been through so much, and yet you’ve put it all aside to make sure Lola has the best life can offer. I mean it when I say she couldn’t have asked for a better father.”

“Thank you.” My chest tightens.

Marlow’s observation resonates with me in a way she might not realize. I haven’t told her I’ve been shouldering a load of guilt about not being enough for Lola lately, and her words strike a chord deep within me.

Even when she’s feeling at her worst, she’s quick to offer me comfort. Considering our past interactions, she has every reason to harbor resentment toward me, but she doesn’t. Her kind-hearted and thoughtful nature is one of the reasons I’m replaceing it so damn difficult to keep my distance, even though it’s better for both of us.

I caress her cheek, tracing her jaw with my fingertips as silence lingers between us, the crackling tension between us irrefutable. My gaze locks with Marlow’s, and I’m having difficulty remembering why I shouldn’t kiss her right now.

She shakes her head. “I’ve seen that look before.”

“What look?” I feign innocence.

“The one you get when you’re contemplating doing something you shouldn’t.”

“You think you know me so well, huh?” I ask with a playful grin.

She lifts a brow. “Am I wrong?”

“Honestly? No. I was convincing myself I shouldn’t kiss you again,” I say as I stare at her mouth.

Marlow covers my mouth with her palm. “You can’t kiss me right now,” she blurts out.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m sick, and the last thing Lola and I need is for you to catch it. I suspect that you’d be a challenging patient, and I refuse to deal with your grumpiness when you’re stuck in bed for days.” She shivers at the thought.

I chuckle softly. She has a point. When I’m sick, I do have a tendency to be more irritable.

I lean in to press a kiss on her forehead. “I guess that will have to do for now. I want you to know that I do like you, sunshine.”

“I like you too, Dylan,” she murmurs.

The unspoken words linger in the air.

I’m not sure I’m in a place where I can commit to a relationship and Marlow can’t guarantee that she’ll still be in Aspen Grove six months from now. We’re in different stages of our lives, and if we knew what was good for us, we’d dismiss our feelings for each other entirely and move on. However, I can’t promise that if the opportunity presents itself to kiss Marlow again that I won’t take it.

She gives me a sleepy smile, barely able to keep her eyes open.

“Why don’t we get you back into bed?” I suggest. “I think you could use a nap.”

“I think you’re right,” she agrees.

I get off the bed so she can get under the covers. Once she’s settled, I tuck the blankets around her.

“I have to pick up Lola from school soon, but I’ll stop by later this afternoon to check on you, okay? In the meantime, call me if you need anything else.”

She places her hand on my forearm. “Thank you, Dylan, for everything—the soup, cleaning my house, washing my hair. I really appreciate it,” she says in earnest. “But don’t think for a second that you’ve got away with going all Cesar Millian on me by trying to train my dog.” She holds her hand out when I open my mouth to say something. “We’ll talk about it when I’m in a condition to win the argument.”

I chuckle at her joke. “You got it, sunshine. Now get some sleep.”

I lean down and give her another kiss on the forehead before turning off the bedside lamp.

As I leave her room, it strikes me that I haven’t checked my work email a single time since I’ve been here. And surprisingly, I haven’t wanted to.