Page 39 of One Pucking Life

Footsteps sound softly from the hall, and I sit up straighter as Delaney reappears. She’s changed into her usual cozy pajamas, with her hair tucked up in that messy bun that somehow makes her look sexy.

“All good?” I ask.

“She didn’t even stir when I laid her down,” she says softly. “Totally worn out from stealing the spotlight.”

“She was the MVP,” I murmur, my smile faint, my stomach in knots as I stare at the woman before me.

Delaney lingers in the doorway, the lamplight casting a golden glow on her skin. “I just came down to say good night,” she says, tilting her head slightly. Her eyes meet mine, searching. “You okay?”

I nod, swallowing down the truth that wants to surface. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

She studies me for a long beat, and I wonder if she knows exactly what I’m thinking about or if she ever thinks similar things about me. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she gives me one of those small, gentle smiles that feels like it was made just for me and turns to head upstairs.

I watch her go, each quiet step pulling her farther from me. In the silence that follows, I let the truth settle in my chest. I wish she wasn’t just Caroline’s nanny.

I wish I could’ve pulled her into my arms tonight—right there in that ballroom—and felt the warmth of her body against mine. I wish I could’ve kissed her, slow and certain, like I had every right to. I wish she were mine, and the whole world knew it.

Falling for her would be effortless. That’s the danger, and exactly why I need to shut this down now—before I cross a line I can’t uncross. Before this quiet ache in my chest turns into something I can’t contain.

With a groan, I press the heels of my hands to my eyes and lean back into the couch, frustration prickling under my skin.

Note to self: don’t bring your gorgeous nanny to a gala where she shows up looking like a fantasy. Especially when you can barely resist the sight of her in pajamas.

What I need… is a cold shower. A really, really long one.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

MAX

Ashrill cry slices through the quiet of the house. I sit up in bed, heart pounding like I’m about to take a slap shot, not stumble into a nursery. I glance at the clock—3:07 a.m. Of course. Seven to seven doesn’t hit perfectly every night.

Kicking off the blankets, I pad barefoot into the hallway. The soft glow of the night-light is already pouring from Caroline’s room, the sound machine still humming its static lullaby in the background.

I push the door open the rest of the way—and stop.

Delaney’s already there.

She’s in an oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts, her hair a little wild on top of her head. She’s gently rocking Caroline against her shoulder, whispering something I can’t quite make out. Her voice is low and rhythmic. Calming.

And it’s working—Caroline’s cry is already fading into a tired whimper.

I lean against the doorway, watching for a beat too long.

Delaney turns, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh,” she whispers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” I murmur, stepping into the room. “I was already up.”

She raises a brow, amused. “You were not.”

“Okay, fine. I was asleep. But I had to come see what my little girl needed.”

She smirks as I approach, shifting Caroline slightly in her arms. “She just needed a reset, I think. We’re okay.”

I nod but still hover, brushing my hand gently over Caroline’s back.

Delaney hesitates. “You can go back to bed. I got her.”

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