Page 38 of Puck Your Nanny

Daisy grin grows. "I've had a lot of fun today. I used to kyak in summer camp. I missed it. Also missed the outdoors."

I lean back in the booth. "Anytime you want to go for a hike or on the water, just let me know. I love doing the kind of thing, but Peter's leg can't handle much hiking, and he's not a fan of lakes. Nate rather get all his exercise on the ice. So you were a summer camp kid? So was I. Around Berllow? Maybe we ran into each other and never realized it."

She lets out a short laugh and looks down at the grain of the wood table. "No, I was too far away from Berllow to do Summer camp here. It was more of a way for my mom to get around the clock babysitting for eight weeks of summer break. She alwayssaid was cheaper than having to pay for a babysitter, especially if it was the sleep away kind. When one ended she would enter me into another, until the last week of summer."

I stiffen a little. I can hear the pain in her voice at that. She doesn't need to say it to tell me that she felt like a burden to her mother.

The waitress returns, and we order—two bison burgers with fries. The conversation shifts to lighter things as we wait, small moments of laughter and easy conversation filling the space between us. It’s comfortable. Natural. Like this was always meant to be.

***

The drive to the cabin is quiet, the kind of silence that isn’t awkward but filled with anticipation. Daisy watches the trees pass by, the road winding deeper into the forest, away from the small town and the few scattered houses along the way. The sky is clear, the first hints of twilight settling over the horizon. My hands grip the wheel, the weight of the night ahead sitting in my chest—not in a bad way, but in a way that makes me want to make everything perfect for her.

The cabin sits on a secluded stretch of land, a single-story with a large porch wrapping around the front. Warm light spills from the windows, casting a glow against the darkening sky. It’s a place meant for quiet moments, the kind where time slows down and nothing else matters. I park the truck and turn to her. Her blue eyes are wide as she takes it all in, her lips parting in awe.

“Come on.” I get out and move to grab our bags from the back before opening her door for her and taking her hand. We walk up the gravel path and I place my hand on her back as she takes the step up on to the deck. I enter the code the owner sent me for the door and push it open, finding a switch off to the side of the door to turn on the antler chandelier at the middle of the cabin.

The interior is exactly as I pictured it—rustic but refined, with dark wooden beams stretching across the ceiling and a gigantic stone fireplace dominating one wall. A thick brown fur rug lies in front of it, the perfect place to settle in for the night. I set the bags down and shrug off my jacket, moving toward the small kitchen tucked into the corner.

“You want a drink?” I glance over my shoulder as she slips off her coat and drapes it over a chair.

She nods, stepping closer. “What do they have?”

I gesture toward the small selection on the counter—whiskey, wine, and a bottle of some fancy vodka. “Pick your poison.”

Her fingers trail over the whiskey bottle before lifting it. “This works.”

I smirk, grabbing two glasses from a cabinet and pouring a couple fingers’ worth into each before handing her one. Our fingers brush, and she lingers in the touch just long enough to make my pulse pick up.

“To a good night.” I raise my glass slightly before taking a sip.

She does the same, the amber liquid slipping past her lips. Her nose scrunches a little, but she doesn’t complain. I carry my glass over to the small table not too far from the fireplace and grab the kindling and wood stacked beside it. It doesn’t take long to get the fire going; the flames crackle to life, filling the cabin with warmth.

When I turn back, she sits on the rug, legs tucked beneath her, her glass rests on the floor beside her. The firelight flickers across her skin, making her look softer. I take a slow breath, trying to keep myself in check as I lower myself beside her.

She leans into me without hesitation, her body molding against mine as I wrap an arm around her waist. The scent of her—soft, warm, floral, and unmistakably hers—fills my lungs, making my muscles relax. My fingers skim along her side, just beneath the hem of her sweater, feeling the heat of her skin.

“This is nice.” She tilts her head to look up at me.

I trace a slow circle against her hip. “Yeah, it is.”

Her eyes flick to my mouth, and that’s all the invitation I need. I lean in, capturing her lips with mine, tasting the whiskey on her tongue. She melts into me, fingers sliding up my chest, gripping the fabric of my shirt. The kiss deepens, her breath hitching as I pull her closer, pressing her against me.

My hand moves higher, slipping beneath her sweater, tracing along her spine. She shivers, but not from the cold. I guide her back onto the rug, hovering over her as I trail kisses down her jaw, her neck. Her scent thickens, filling the space between us, making my head swim.

She grips my shoulders, pulling me back up to kiss her again, needy and eager. My hand skims lower, gripping her thigh, pressing her leg around my waist. She gasps against my mouth, her hips shifting, seeking more.

The fire crackles beside us, its glow casting flickering shadows across the room. Her fingers tighten in my shirt as I kiss her deeper, drinking in the warmth of her body against mine. My hands roam over her curves, feeling the way she responds, how her breath hitches when I press closer.

The fire casts flickering shadows across her skin as my hands roam over her, feeling the way she responds, how her breath hitches when I press closer. I take my time, savoring every inch of her. My fingers trace the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine. She tilts her head back, offering her throat.

I lean in, brushing my lips over her scent gland, scraping my teeth against it with a light growl and resisting the urge to mark her until she's ready. It doesn't feel right unless Peter and Nate are here as well, so we can claim her as a unanimous pack.A small moan leaves her as I trail more kisses before pulling back.

My fingers grasp the hem of her sweater, slowly pushing it up, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach. She lifts her arms,letting me pull it over her head and toss it aside. Her red bra is delicate, lace-trimmed, and I take a moment to admire the way it frames her breasts. If I had any artist talent, I would want to paint them for their beauty. I unclasp it with a practiced flick. The straps slide down her shoulders, and the sight of her bared to me sends a rush of heat through my veins.

She doesn’t hesitate to return the gesture, fingers tugging at the hem of my shirt. I lift my arms, letting her peel it off, and the cool air meets my skin for only a moment before she runs her hands over my chest. Her touch is soft, exploratory, like she’s memorizing me.

I press my lips to her collarbone, trailing kisses down the center of her chest. She sighs, arching into me, her fingers tangling in my hair as I take my time tasting her. My hands glide down, slipping beneath the waistband of her leggings. I hook my thumbs into the fabric, dragging them down her hips, taking her underwear with them. She shivers, entirely bare now, spread beneath me in the fire's glow.

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