Page 11 of Yours To Hold
I drop down to her level, ignoring the fact that I’m keeping Ivy waiting.
Everything about me has been fighting this for weeks. I need help with my daughter. My brother needs help at the bar, and I don’t want to let another sibling down.
“Of course she’s going to like you. Everyone does, Pipsqueak.”
She nods, firming up her face.
Finally, I open the door, and Ivy Connors is waiting on the other side.
Gemma’s best friend.
The woman that has driven me crazy every time I’ve seen her since her twenty-first birthday.
My eyes take too long of a perusal. Oversized sweater that hangs off one shoulder. Tight leggings that show off her long legs. Light-brown hair that falls down her body in perfect waves.
And why is that gold nose ring of hers so fucking hot?
“Hey Willow!” She addresses my daughter first, breaking me out of my obvious staring.
“Do you like dogs?” Willow asks.
“Of course I like dogs. Where is Daisy?”
Willow’s eyes go wide. “You know Daisy?”
“What a silly question. She’s been out at the ranch.”
“You need to come see her again.” Willow grabs Ivy’s hand and pulls her into the house, completely forgetting about me.
“Hey, Mason.” Ivy gives me a smile as she brushes by me.
Why does she smell so damn good? A little woodsy, a little floral.
Ivy is down on the living room floor with Willow and Daisy, chattering away with them. I should’ve known it would be this easy.
Willow loves everyone. Of course she’s going to love Ivy too. She’s Gemma’s best friend.
It’s what makes her being Willow’s nanny so dangerous.
I’ve always felt this pull to Ivy. But something in these last few years has made it grow. I’ve tried to keep my distance from her. Distance keeps me safe.
But with her now being in my house, potentially every fucking day, I’m going to lose my mind.
How could Inotwith having this captivating woman in my space.
“What do you like to do after school?” Ivy asks Willow.
“I read books. And color. And play with Daisy. And sometimes Daddy takes me hiking.”
Ivy’s gaze flits to mine before going back to Willow’s. “I’m really good at coloring.”
“Is that what you do after school?” Willow asks.
Ivy laughs. “Well, I’m not in school anymore.”
Those words remind me just how young she is. She’s Gemma’s age, for Christ’s sake. Ten years younger than I am.
I do not need to be lusting after someone so much younger.
