Callie’s little arms come around my neck and she whispers. “I love you, Daddy.”
And just like that, all the bullshit I’ve been through was fucking worth it.
I lift my gaze, trying like hell not to cry. My eyes meet Jessa’s where she’s leaning against the doorway, fighting off her own tears. I don’t know what’s going through the nanny’s pretty little head, but I do know this; my daughter is starting to open up to me and Jessa has played a huge role in that.
The sun has set and Callie is yawning now. “I think it’s time for bed, kiddo.” I gently stroke her back.
“I’ve got her oatmeal bath ready,” Jessa says softly to me as she steps into the room. “Unless you’d rather handle it?”
I scrub a hand down my face. “You go ahead. I’m going to take a shower.”
Callie gives me another tight hug before she and Jessa disappear.
Once downstairs, I give myself a few minutes in the shower. Then, I stretch out on the couch, staring up into the dark, and take some time to process everything that just transpired.
In the middle of the night, when I hear the floorboards squeaking overhead, it's a war in my brain. My rational mind knows I should keep my ass on the couch, pull a pillow over my face, try to fall asleep. But the dumbass within tries to convince me that I can go up there, sit with Jessa in the dark kitchen, have an adult conversation.
Unfortunately, my inner dumbass wins out this time. I fling off my quilt and my feet hit the floor.
I take the stairs, still trying to reason that my intentions are innocent, that I just need a friend, that two adults can enjoy each other's company without it being inappropriate.
The second I step into the shadowy kitchen, the smarter part of my brain calls bullshit on this reasoning.
Jessa's head is inside the pantry and her perfect, little ass is poking out in some pink sleep shorts. The satiny fabric clings loosely to her frame. Her legs are pale, delicate, toned. I get a visual of myself spreading them apart as I drop to my knees and eat her from behind, right there with her head inside the goddamned pantry.
Being up here is a bad idea.
I’m about to turn on my heel and hightail it back to the basement but it’s too late—right then, she spins around with an armful of cookies and candies and cakes clenched to her chest and she spots me standing in the doorway.
30 Jessa
Jesus, Eli. You're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days." I clutch my midnight feast to my chest.
My boss glances mockingly at the load in my arms. “I’d say you're well on your way to a heart attack already.” He snatches the chocolate chip cookies from me and strides over to the kitchen island. He takes a seat.
I pause where I’m standing and stare at the man, confused. I legit don’t understand what’s going on here. “Are you...okay?"
"Perfectly." He opens the package of cookies and bites into one without a care in the world. He groans and his eyes close. I imagine the burst of chocolate and sugar and childhood nostalgia exploding across his tongue. "Damn—I forgot how good these are," he confesses in a hushed voice.
A slow smile moves into place on my lips. Okay, so, I guess we’re doing this, huh?
I approach the counter, attempting to adopt a casual stroll, like my heart isn’t trying to slam right through my chest. “Well, duh, they're chocolate chip.”
Eli watches as I set out the rest of my haul on the island, buffet-style. Sour worms, chocolate covered peanuts, caramel popcorn, cream-filled cakes, toffee squares. "So you actually live like this?"
I settle on the stool next to him. "Tell me—what other way is there to live?"
He glances at me and huffs. “Y’know, you might be onto something because right now, I truly feel like I’ve been missing out all these years.” He’s already on his third cookie.
I observe him. “I think you might wanna slow down with the cookies, buddy. I’ve got a whole lot of other good stuff and I’m gonna let you taste all of it tonight.”
He chokes on his cookie.
Oh shit, did I just say that? Out loud? To my boss? I really didn’t mean to say that.
I glance away, blushing. “I just mean—I—you know what I mean.” Quickly, I change the subject. "Here, try this." I slide him a frosted cake with a rainbow of sprinkles packaged in crinkly plastic. "This one's my favorite."
He picks it up and cringes when he tries to tear the plastic open. "This thing is loud as hell!" he glances down the hall toward Callie's bedroom. "I think I just woke up the whole neighborhood."
"Because you're doing it wrong,” I snicker.
My boss grins, all full of himself. “Well, I can assure you that I’ve never left a woman feeling like I’m doing it wrong.” The second the words leave his mouth, he looks like he wants to take them back. "Shit. Sorry. That was inappropriate."
But it’s too late. I’m snickering into my long sleeve. "Such a frigging boy," I chide. "Do you want me to show you how to open this thing properly or not?"
Relief slides over his face when he sees that I’m not offended by his crude joke. He makes an inviting motion, sweeping his hand through the air.
I take the cake from him and slowly, patiently rip the wrapper open, one centimeter at a time. The packaging barely makes a sound.
“Well, look at you. An expert.” He’s mocking me again and I roll my eyes, trying to pretend not to like it.
I gesture to where the creamy filling is leaking from the pastry, about to fall onto the counter. “Just so you know, while you’re wasting time being a smartass, all the good stuff is just…dripping…out. Shut up and lick
