Page 34 of If Love Had A Manual

“Tragic.”

I take a step inside, doing everything in my power not to look directly at her ass again.

I fail.

God help me, I fail hard.

Rosie has glitter stickers all over her forehead and is wearing the white coat from her doctor playset. She’s too busy to even acknowledge me.

“Hey, princess,” I say, kissing her cheek. She whacks me over the head with a toy. “Missed you too.”

I glance over at Lena who is currently fucking crawling again.

God, woman, will you get off your knees?

My hands are still dirty, and I smell like brake pads, but none of that matters because I just saw my nanny’s ass in full 4K.

I clear my throat. “You, uh…got something on your face.”

Lena wipes her cheek with the sleeve of her hoodie,smearing what I assume is either applesauce or paint. “It’s been a day. I don’t even ask anymore.”

“Do I want to know what happened here?”

“No,” she says immediately. “But I will say Rosie is either going to be a doctor or a school bully. She refused to go down for a nap until Mr. Woofles received CPR. I was not emotionally prepared to resuscitate a stuffed animal at 2:30 p.m., Wes.”

I rub my face. “You okay?”

She straightens up slowly, brushing off her knees like she wasn’t just crawling around like a sexy zookeeper. “We survived.”

I should move. Shower. Do something productive. But instead, I just stare at her. She’s got this ridiculous smudge of something purple on her hoodie, her curls are falling out of that lazy bun she always wears, and she’s still humming some little tune under her breath while Rosie gnaws on a spoon.

And I’m having very inappropriate thoughts about the nanny.

I head toward the kitchen under the false pretense of grabbing water, using it as an excuse to breathe. To focus. To not say something wildly inappropriate like, “Hey Lena, how do you feel about ruining our very professional nanny-employer relationship by letting me bend you over the coffee table?”

Jesus Christ.

This is what happens when you’ve spent too long without a sex life and your house is suddenly occupied by a woman like…well, like Lena.

Get it together.

She’s Rosie’s nanny.

She sings Wheels on the Bus with choreography.

She calls juice “num nums.”

“I put dinner in the fridge,” she says as she reaches for her coat. “Nothing fancy. Just pasta. Rosie helped. By which I mean she stuck her hand in the sauce.”

“Cool,” I say dumbly. “Love a little toddler seasoning.”

Crouching, she presses a kiss to Rosie’s cheek. “Bye, monster. Don’t traumatize your uncle too much.”

She heads for the door, purse over one shoulder, keys jingling. “See you Monday.”

I nod, still rooted to the same damn spot. “Yeah. Have a good weekend.”

When the door clicks shut behind her, Rosie toddles over, wobbling slightly in those tiny pink socks, and stands in the living room doorway. She stares after Lena like she’s expecting her to come back. Her hand lifts, waving even though there’s no one there anymore.

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