Page 50 of Touch My Shelves

As I watch him join the group, who are already making and eating s’mores by the fire, I try not to think about what this resembles. I am not a nanny with benefits. I don’t know what I am, but I know I’m more. I don’t want any more than these few months with him. Right?

Later that night, Brax takes me so many times, I forget all those niggling thoughts.

CHAPTER 18

BRAX

I shut down my computer and check my pockets for my phone before I turn the lights off in the office. Looking in on Freeya, I find her sleeping with her well-loved stuffy in her arms. I run down the stairs like a teenager on his way to a third-base date. I’ve dated my share of actresses and models. I’ve even dated amazing women famous for their philanthropic ways. But I’ve never dated a small town farm girl—or been this excited about a woman.

Thinking back, I can’t even remember the last time I put so much effort into a date or took time off work. Since my daughter was born, my personal life faded into the background. Freeya always comes first and work the only other claim on my time.

Maybe I don’t have time for this, but for once, I’m going to make time. Once I start writing the new book and subsequent new season, I’ll be pulled in many different directions. I’ll look back on these days with Poppy…yeah, I don’t want to finish that thought.

Sticking my head in the media room, I find Alec and Eli involved in a hockey game on the wide screen. “Where’s Jack?”

Both men grin. “He’ll be back later.”

Alec winks. “Or maybe he won’t.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “Please tell me he’s not with Naudi.”

“No, not her.” Eli adds, “Someone he met at Brewster’s.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of Freeya. We’re going to take her out to breakfast at that place at the marina. They have incredible waffles.”

My chef does too, but if they want to go out, who am I to argue? “Thanks, guys. I know you’ll be fine, but you have my number if you need me. We’ll be back by noon tomorrow.”

“Oh, my God, you’re nervous!” Alec throws down with a hearty chuckle.

“Our little buddy is in love!” Eli raises his voice and sounds like a fool.

With a snort, I sneer. “Shut up. That’s not what this is.”

Both men grin ridiculously. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just look after my kid.”

I leave them behind, but I can still hear their chuckles until I shut the back patio doors. Those assholes don’t know anything and I’m not letting them ruin this time with Poppy. We have so few hours to be together, just stolen moments really. She sneaks into my bed or I slip into hers after everyone is asleep. Or we find a closet or step in a vacant room for furtive kisses. Maybe all we can have is a glance across the table. It’s not enough and that’s why I had Chef Claude prepare a special dinner and serve it on my yacht. We’ll have time to ourselves.

I want to be with Poppy without being afraid of getting caught. I want us to have a normal date. Well, as normal as we can have.

I find Poppy waiting for me on the dock. Taking her hand, I bend down to kiss her cheek. I want more, but I have a short fuse. Her scent wafts around me and the dark blue dress she has on is formfitting. I can tell she’s put care into dressing for our evening. It’s another one of those old timey-looking dresses that fits her more than any of the donated items she’s been wearing. “That’s a beautiful dress.”

She glances up with a smile. “Thanks. Naudi made it for me. She’s been slowly replenishing my wardrobe. Of all I lost in the fire, I miss my clothes and shoes the most.”

Starting at her plain black heels, I explore her long, shapely legs, the cinched-in waist, and the scoop neckline with creamy mounds threatening to spring free. “You have a very unique look. I think those sinful as fuck dresses suit you.”

In the dim evening light of the lamp post, her brows form a V. “You think my dresses are sexy? Honestly, in most cases, I think the way I dress turns people off or they give me weird looks.”

I run my thumb down her soft cheek and look into her eyes. “They are you, Poppy. The way you dress, your hair, only makes you unique. Never change.”

She shies away from my sincere comment. I wonder why that is?

“Where are we going?” she asks. Nervously she tucks a few purple strands behind her ears.

“I had Chef prepare dinner onboard tonight.”

I grin and, with a hand to the small of her back, we walk down the dock toward the yacht. “But we’ve already had dinner,” she points out.

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