Page 8 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

He looked pretty deranged when I met him, but after a bath, it was impossible to ignore how good he looks. And right now, sleepy and at ease, he's hard to look away from.

"What... happened?" His deep voice rumbles through the room, doing something to me it shouldn't.

I lean against the wall, trying not to let my eyes wander down the full length of his body. "I made it livable," I reply, forcing my gaze away.

"I thought you weren't staying." There's confusion in his voice, but no anger.

I shrug. "I'm not. But I can't work in chaos."

Dex doesn't argue. He just assesses me, his massive form still and silent. Something warm and unexpected flutters in my chest at his attention. I try to ignore it, focus on the task at hand, but I'm acutely aware of him—his presence, his scent carried on the morning breeze, the quiet strength he exudes without effort.

This is a job, I remind myself. Nothing more. The fluttering sensation means nothing.

But I can't help the way my stomach flips as he shifts, his eyes meeting mine. "Thank you," he says with such sincerity that I don't know how I couldn't want to help this minotaur, this gentle giant. I feel so…drawn to him.

Just then, a tiny, insistent cry breaks the moment between us. Ellis has awakened, and his displeasure at finding himself alone is evident in every wailing note.

"I'll get him," I say quickly, grateful for the distraction. The brief connection I felt with Dex has left me unsettled, my heart beating a touch too fast.

But Dex's massive hand gently blocks my path. "No, let me." His voice is firm but anxious. "I need to learn, don't I? Can't depend on you forever."

There's something so unexpectedly vulnerable in his statement that I step back, nodding. "Of course. I'll prepare his bottle."

I move to the kitchen, grateful I organized everything earlier. The milk is easy to find now, and I measure it precisely, warming it to the perfect temperature. Behind me, I hear Dex's heavy hoofsteps followed by Ellis's continued protests.

When I return to the living area, the sight before me nearly makes me laugh. Dex, this enormous minotaur merchant who probably intimidates half his business associates with his sheer size alone, looks completely terrified of the tiny calf in his arms. Ellis squirms against his uncle's stiff hold, little hooves kicking in protest, his gold eyes wide with frustration.

"Here's the bottle," I say, handing it to him.

Dex takes it with a determined nod, then proceeds to hold it at an awkward angle that has more milk dribbling down Ellis's chin than into his mouth. The baby's cries increase in volume, and Dex's expression shifts from determination to panic.

"I don't understand," he says, frustration evident in his voice. "The bottle is right there. Why won't he just drink it?"

I bite my lip, feeling an unexpected wave of tenderness for this struggling uncle. He's trying so hard.

"He's new to the world," I explain, stepping closer. "And you're new to him. Here, like this."

I move behind Dex without thinking, reaching around his broad frame to adjust his hold on Ellis. The closeness hits me immediately—his warmth, the solid wall of muscle beneath my fingertips, the clean, earthy scent of him. My breath catches as I guide his large hands into a better position.

"Support his head more," I murmur, suddenly conscious of how my arms brush against his. "Tilt the bottle so there's no air. That's it."

Ellis latches onto the bottle properly, his cries ceasing as he drinks eagerly. Dex's entire body relaxes against mine, and I become acutely aware of how I'm practically embracing him from behind, my chest pressed against his broad back.

I should step away. I know I should. But I find myself lingering, watching around his shoulder as Ellis drinks contentedly in his uncle's arms. My hands remain lightly on Dex's forearms, feeling the powerful muscles beneath his copper-tinted fur. For a merchant, his physique suggests years of physical labor or training.

Dex turns his head slightly, and suddenly we're face to face, inches apart. His green eyes meet mine, surprise and something warmer reflected in their depths. I've never been this close to a minotaur before—close enough to see the individual strands of fur along his jawline, to notice how his eyes aren't just green but flecked with gold near the pupils.

Something unspoken passes between us, a current of understanding or attraction or both. My heart beats faster, and I realize I've forgotten to breathe.

I clear my throat and force myself to step back, suddenly self-conscious. "You're not bad at this, you know," I say, trying to sound normal despite the unexpected flutter in my stomach.

Dex swallows visibly, his attention returning to Ellis. "Doesn't feel that way," he admits, his deep voice quiet. "Every time I think I'm figuring him out, he changes the rules."

There's such honesty in his admission, such openness in his expression. This isn't the confident merchant I glimpsed yesterday; this is a man—a minotaur—completely out of his depth and courageous enough to admit it.

"You'll get there," I say, my voice softening. I reach out impulsively and touch his arm. "No one knows what they're doing at first. But look at him now."

We both glance down at Ellis, who's drinking contentedly, his golden eyes half-closed in satisfaction. Dex's entire posture has changed, becoming more natural, more confident with the baby. He just needed guidance, not replacement.

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