Page 87 of Denial
“Fine. I’ll sleep here tonight.”
“You’ll sleep here until I’m certain there’s no longer a threat.”
The unspoken piece lingers unsaid between us.
We both know when the threat is over, I’ll go back home where I belong.
23
Sutton
The humid Juneair sweeps across the back of my neck, carrying the scent of funnel cakes and cheese curds. The late evening sun hangs low in a cloudless tangerine sky. I swat away a buzzing fly and halt in my steps, not to run over the three young boys sprinting across my path.
“That’s Jeremiah, Dad. And Thomas and Edgar.” Nellie plucks another hunk of sticky unicorn cotton candy and shoves it into her blue-tinged mouth.
“They should watch where they’re going.” I resume my pace beside my daughter as she wanders wherever her heart desires.
“They’re just kids, Officer Sunny,” Alice admonishes from the other side. A wide, white smile stretches her thick mulberry lips.
My gaze narrows as her tongue slips out to wet them, suddenly forgetting all about Jemimah and Theo and Everett. Lately, I forget everything when she’s around. Waking up to her in my house has been a unique form of torture. One I didn’t expect.
It’s not like she hasn’t been around. She’s been my nanny for over a month now. But there’s an acute difference in how we interact when she’s beneath my roof full-time versus when she’d show up as I left for work and would head home not long after I got in the door.
We saw each other, but we didn’tseeeach other. I didn’t get to glimpse her messy bedhead first thing in the morning, even though her black waves are always kind of a mess. I’d never seen that sleepy look on her face before she’s had coffee or when she needs a juice, and it’s three a. m.
Two nights ago, she nearly gave me a damn heart attack as she came up in search of sugar in the middle of the night. My heart slowed, only to beat double time when she turned the corner and I glimpsed the tiny-ass shorts she wore to bed. Inmybed. I spent the rest of the night fighting the urge to wrap my fingers tight around my cock and pump myself to completion while I thought about her lying between my sheets.
The wayward thoughts have me lagging. I do my best to push them away. Compartmentalize the sudden surge of desire I feel when I think about my nanny. Not only would it be inappropriate to act on, but it’s not what I do. My rare hookups don’t happen where I live. Not since I lost Eleanor’s mom.
But then I look up, and I see the glimpse of Alice’s tan, toned legs and her short cutoffs. The flowy cream tank that shows off her toned arms and cleavage that I want to run my tongue through, and I question why I’m fighting this at all.
What did she say about the guy at the bar? It’s a hookup, not a marriage proposal.
But I have a feeling—and my gut is rarely wrong—that something with Alice wouldn’t be a fleeting frolic in the sheets. I’d want more.
That’s not practical. For my own reasons, but for others too. Like the fact that Nellie loves her. The moment this goes south, that relationship would have to end.
I watch the two of them talk as they walk ahead, pointing at booths and stopping to play games to win tickets, and feel it in my chest…
I’m not selfish enough to ruin this for Nellie.
I’m not sure I’m strong enough to resist as well.
“Daddy! You play Miss Alice now.” Nellie shouts from the water gun race game. She struggles off the tall stool and slaps the cracked black seat. “She’s really good. She won twenty tickets last round.”
Alice winks before shielding her eyes behind dark sunglasses. “Ready to lose, Sunny?”
“Only in your dreams, Firecracker.” I straddle the seat beside her and hand the worker the fee. My jean-clad thigh brushes lightly against her bare one. Is it my imagination, or is she pressing against me harder?
A countdown flashes from ten.
“We should make a bet.” Alice straightens, her hands carefully adjusting the nozzle.
Without missing a beat, I reply, “Name your price.”
Alice avoids my gaze, focusing intently on her task. “Winner takes the bed,” she states, trying to sound nonchalant, but her tone betrays a hint of nervousness.
“Fine.” I lean over my station, lowering my eye level with the target.
