Page 38 of One Pucking Life

He’s just my boss. A veryhandsome, verygratefulboss. But nothing more.

The song ends.

“We should go,” I murmur, stepping back.

“Yeah,” he says, his gaze lingering on mine a moment too long.

I turn, heart thudding, and gather Caroline into my arms. Without looking back, I head toward the coat check.

I don’t make eye contact with Max the entire ride home.

I can’t.

I refuse to allow my traitorous emotions to give me away now.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

MAX

The house is dark when we get back. Caroline’s already asleep in her car seat, and Delaney insists on carrying her inside while I handle the coats and leftover gift bags from the gala. I trail behind her, pausing in the doorway for a moment just to watch.

Delaney moves through my house like she belongs here. This place has already bent itself around her presence, and I can’t remember how we functioned without her. She glances back to check if I’m still behind her, and even though she doesn’t say a word, her eyes carry a quiet calm that reaches straight into my chest and unclenches something I didn’t realize I was still holding.

She disappears into the nursery with Caroline, and I head to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. My tux jacket is slung over the barstool, my tie stuffed into my coat pocket. I look like a man coming down from a high—and maybe I am.

The night was... a lot.

Seeing Delaney in that green dress nearly knocked the breath from my lungs. I knew she was beautiful, obviously. I’m notblind. But tonight? She was something else entirely. Elegant, composed, soft in all the ways that gut a man like me without warning. And then, watching her with my team—how easily she slid into conversations and how naturally she fit among wives and girlfriends and guys who’ve been my family for years... that did something to me.

She didn’t justbelong. She was part of it all. Part of my life.

I sink onto the couch and lean forward, elbows braced on my knees, turning the water glass slowly between my hands. I can still hear her laugh if I focus hard enough. It echoed over the low hum of the string quartet while she stood beside Iris, holding a glass of wine and tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She looked relaxed. Happy.

Every time someone asked me who she was, I introduced her as my nanny, which is true. But, oddly enough, the title felt all wrong as if calling her that stripped away everything else she is to us. Tome. She’s become so much more than an employee.

She’s Caroline’s calm. My clarity. The softness this house was missing before she came. And the thought of her not being here someday? I know I’m getting ahead of myself, but how long do nanny stints last? Surely, she won’t be here forever.

The thought of her not being a part of my life, of Caroline’s life, hurts more than I want to admit.

At the same time, all this commotion in my head is meaningless because everything I feel is unspoken. I don’t have the right words to give voice to it, even if I wanted to.

I lean back and exhale slowly, staring at the ceiling like it holds answers I haven’t figured out yet.

I don’t know what this is between us. Not exactly. Something is brewing—I can feel it in the way she looks at me sometimes, in the subtle shifts of her posture when I get too close. And then there’s the way I catch myself watching her when I shouldn’t,wondering how her lips would feel against mine. Wondering how far I could fall if I let myself.

But she’s not mine. She’s never been mine. Most importantly, she can’t be mine.

She’s Caroline’s nanny. That’s the line. And I know I can’t cross it.

Still… tonight made me wonder what it might feel like to stop drawing lines and just let myself want what I want.

Her.

Can I finally admit that truth? I want her. If I’m completely honest with myself, I’ve never wanted a woman more. Yet that doesn’t change the fact that Caroline has to be the priority. I can’t do anything to risk Delaney’s position here.

I run a hand through my hair and rest my head against the back of the couch. Maybe I’m imagining this connection between us. Perhaps it’s just proximity and exhaustion and the way this new life has rewritten every part of me over the past six weeks. But I don’t think so. Something’s shifting, and the harder I try to ignore it, the more difficult it is to ignore.

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