He grins. “Technically, Anna’s nanny. But at least now we can be open and honest about you wanting her to be yours as well.” He smirks. “And she’s been your nanny for what? Less than a week? I’m sure you can part ways so you can date, if that’s what works for you guys.”
“No,” I say far too quickly. “Anna loves her. And Isabella actually needs the job.” I stop myself before I share too much.
His brows furrow. “She got some money issues?” he asks, and now that my mind is caught up on their relationship, it’s clear to see that his affection for Isabella is much more that of an older brother than of a former flame.
“No. No money issues. She could just really use the work while she explores other projects. But I’ll leave it at that, since it’s up to her to decide whether she wants to discuss with you or Denise.”
He sighs. “Man, you really care for her, don’t you? And before you try to deny it, look over my shoulder and stare at yourself. It’s written all over your face.”
I look at the mirrored wall behind Torres, but all I can see is a man who has no clue what he’s doing.
Like licking the sugar off my thumb while being a hairsbreadth away from her sinful lips.
I don’t even think it’s a conscious decision between my mind and my mouth when I say, “I don’t know what she’s doing to me, man. I feel like having her in my orbit is driving me insane. But when I’m away from her, it only gets worse.”
He blows out a deep breath. “Fuck, man. I knew you had a crush, but damn. It seems I’ve underestimated the gravity of this situation. You, my man, are heading toward falling in love. Fast.”
I laugh humorlessly.
Love.
The emotion that has evaded every relationship I’ve ever been in. Even with Anna’s mother.
And if I couldn’t fall in love with the woman who gave me the world’s greatest gift, how could I possibly fall in love with anyone else? Hell, half the battle is getting to know someone long enough to even trust them to not sell stories about me to the press. The likelihood of opening up my heart and soul and trusting that it won’t be crushed in the process is statistically improbable.
I can’t dwell on the idea of falling in love. Can’t bring myself to give Isabella those broken parts of me. She deserves much more than someone like me can offer her.
So instead of taking a deep dive into all the reasons why we probably wouldn’t work out in the first place, I say the one thing that I know will get Torres off my back for a bit and most definitely cancel the rest of our workout.
“We also have this three-strikes thing going on that I want to tell you about.”
twenty
I don’t think I’llever emotionally recover from the sugar lick heard around the world.
Okay, maybe not around the world, but most definitely felt between my legs. Because holy fuck, that was hot.
And no, it is no longer all in my head. I’m sure as a single father, Mateo knows his way around a wet wipe, paper towel, or good old-fashioned hand washing. There is no reason for that whole scenario to have gone down if there wasn’t something more behind it.
I’m just not certain exactly what. Because my lovely brain keeps circling the same notion—that there is no chance in hell Mateo would be not only attracted to me but also bold enough to put all that sex appeal on display with no strings attached.
And before my other thoughts join the chat and try to call me an idiot, I remind them that the last man I let in promised me the world with a ring on my finger, and itstillwasn’t real.
So forgive me for my trust issues, but that is something that my friend Kelly and I work on weekly. I call her my friend, but she calls me her client. Even though I secretly know she wishes she could be friends with me. But I get it, professional ethics and all. Which is why I give her a good ten minutes of my best material and personality during the beginning of our therapy sessions before she reels me in and has me reaching for the tissues.
So Mateo must be working on some kind of sexual mental warfare to scare me off before my one-week probationary period is up. I mean, he did give me another strike for the disaster zone in his kitchen. If I keep it up, I’ll most likely earn that third strike on my own before the week is up.
Which sucks, because I designed my favorite cover of all time yesterday.
After Mateo disappeared like Houdini yesterday, I dropped Anna off at school, then parked myself at a table in an indie bookstore café. With my wired headphones that only sometimes give me electric shocks, I used that morning’s breakfast fiasco for inspiration and created a cover bursting with color. It was a remake of one of my favorite indie romances that centers around a bakery owner and her grumpy next-door neighbor. I made a graphic of an exploding rainbow cake that flowed into the book title. Then I drew some freehand designs along the edges to look like the swirls of a vintage cake. It’s something I would never have come up with myself, but with the visual of the morning’s burst of color and Mateo’s intoxicating proximity, I was able to create a design I think I will show the author.
Not only do I now have the time to lose myself in my art for hours at a time, but I’m also more inspired than ever.
Plus, living with a five-year-old will have you looking at colors you haven’t seen in years, since the trending aesthetics usually lean toward the muted and monotone colors of nude.
I’ve yet to bust out the hot pink, but for some reason, I feel like I could probably make it work for a funky cover.
I sigh as I make my way out of my room. I didn’t see Mateo again yesterday after my sprinkle fiasco, and I thank the universe for small mercies.
