Page 35 of Never Bargain with the Boss

This new tradition of time on the patio is relaxing in a way I never imagined it could be.

All because of the company.

Riley sits down on the other end of the couch, the space feeling like a welcome and needed buffer after that moment in the kitchen. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and that’s an unusual and uncomfortable sensation. I am always moving toward a defined goal, on a predetermined mission with targeted points along the way for course correction.

But I’d been on the verge of touching her… kissing her… fucking her. And none of that can happen. It absolutely cannot happen.

I put one foot up on the table in front of me, keeping my thighs together to squeeze my dick a bit, hoping the slight pinch of pain will help it go down, and take a sip of my whiskey.

Thankfully, I don’t have to figure out what to say to Riley because Grace reappears at the back door. “They look great,” she tells Riley, stroking the end of one braid. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If they need it, we’ll do touch-ups in the morning so they look perfect for school.”

Grace’s gaze bounces from me to Riley at opposite ends of the couch like she’s choosing a favorite, and when she comes to sit beside me, I feel like I won the best sort of trophy—my daughter’s affection. She snuggles in, and I lay my arm along the back of the couch. She used to cuddle like this with me all the time. Somewhere along the way, it became less common, so I’m going to enjoy the rare occurrence.

“Come look at this,” she tells Riley, waving her over and pointing at her phone.

I glance at Riley, but she seems entirely focused on Grace’s screen and unbothered by moving closer to me. I try to feign the same sense of non-concern, but when she settles in by Grace’s other side, it puts my hand directly in contact with her back. It’d be awkward to jerk away, so I force myself to stay still, but her hair brushing over my hand and arm is not helping the situation in my pants. And that needs to change.

“What did you want to show us?” I ask Grace, praying for a distraction. Any distraction. I would watch her playMinecraftright now or buy her entire Shein shopping cart if she asked. Anything to give me a focal point beyond the softness of Riley’s pink hair and my undeniable desire to twirl a strand around my finger.

Or weave your hand into it and grip those ridiculous pink tresses in your fist.

Thankfully, it’s neither of those things on Grace’s phone, but rather a funny video of a lady singing a silly song with her baby. “This is big, big, big… this is small, small, small…”

“I want to do this with Emmett when I go to Uncle Cole’s and Aunt Janey’s next time,” she explains.

I nod, touched. “I’m sure he’d love that.” I don’t know if Emmett will actually care, but if Grace wants to sing and play with him, I’m sure it’ll be welcomed.

“Awesome! I’m going to text them and see when I can go over, ’kay?” She stands, leaving a too-small space between me and Riley, and I start to rise too.

“I’ll come up to tuck you in,” I offer, mostly to save myself from the dangerous thoughts running through my mind.

And through your dick.

“That’s okay,” she says quickly, holding out a hand to stop me from standing. “I can do it myself, Dad.”

My heart stutters in my chest. This is another one of those moments I’ve known is coming, but I thought I had more time before she’d be ready to end our bedtime routine. Thankfully, she does lean toward me for a kiss. It’s the most important part of our tradition, so I’m glad she’s at least still okay with that.

I press a kiss to her forehead, inhaling her shampoo smell. I miss when she smelled like baby powder, but the perfume scent of her head now is something else I’ve memorized. “Goodnight, honey,” I say around the knot in my throat.

“’Night, Dad. ’Night, Riley.”

She slides the door closed behind her, and then it’s just Riley and me, sitting too close, with my hand dangerously tangled in her hair.

I should move, put at least the distance of business-class seats between us, because this feels dangerously intimate.Polite and professional is how I prefer my relationships with the nannies to be, I remind myself. And my dick, who laughs at the very idea.

Hell, that’s how I like all my relationships—everyone at arm’s distance, not up in my business, and definitely not roughing upthe perfectly smooth edges I’ve honed so that everyone slips off and away. It’s better that way, for me and them. But after only a short time, Riley’s attacking me with sandpaper and roughing everything up, sticking herself in nooks and crannies I didn’t know still existed. And I can’t say I hate it. I should, but I don’t.

So I don’t move at all.

“You okay?” she whispers, turning her head toward me. The small movement makes her hair brush over my fingers, and I can feel her watchful eyes dropping over me like she’s reading all my thoughts through the set of my jaw. She’s probably actually able to do that, along with all her other surprising skills. “That’s a hard hit to a Daddy’s heart.”

She understands the magnitude of what just happened. Over the years, there have been nights when I didn’t tuck Grace in, but it’s because she was spending the night at my parents’ or at a friend’s house, not because she simply didn’t want me to do it, so tonight is a threshold I knew was coming but was altogether unprepared for all the same.

All that aside, what catches my attention, drawing my focus away from Grace, is Riley calling me Daddy. There’s only one woman who’s ever called me that, especially in relation to Grace. And suddenly, it’s not only the two of us on the patio.

There’s a ghost here with us. And I’m in a position that I shouldn’t be in—sitting in the dark with an attractive woman at my side, with an erection trying to rise again, and my always dependable logic getting hazier with every drink.