Page 57 of If Love Had A Manual

“If you’re finished being smug, I’d like to put on something less vomit-chic.”

“Go ahead,” he says, turning away. “I’ll take over Rosie duty.”

As he walks away and goes back downstairs, I hear the deep hum of his laugh.

Bastard.

Righting myself, I smooth back my unruly hair as best I can before I take a deep breath and pray for patience…or my dignity back…or something.

I hesitate for half a second when I hear Wes’s voice soften. “Hey, princess. Rough day, huh?”

Yeah, rough day for the nanny.

When I finally make it downstairs, fresh sweater on and damp hair brushed into submission, I pause in the doorway. Wes sits stretched out on the couch with Rosie sprawled on his chest.

His head is tilted down, dark hair slightly mussed, looking at her with the kind of tenderness that could send me straight into ovulation.

Someone needs to put a warning label on this man.

I clear my throat. “She okay?”

He glances up. “Yeah, just tired herself out.”

“Gee, wonder why.” I drop into the chair opposite him. “It’s exhausting spending the entire day terrorizing your nanny.”

His mouth quirks as he examines me. “Areyouokay?”

“I’m good once she is.”

“Give me the dry-cleaning bill.”

“I’ll give you my therapy bills.”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “You mean I didn’t have that in your contract?”

“No. It should be compulsory.”

He chuckles, rubbing a large hand over Rosie’s head.

“Oh, by the way, the pediatrician appointment went well today,” I tell him.

His face immediately clouds with guilt. “Shit, Lena, I meant to ask earlier—”

“Relax. It was a routine check-up. You’re there for everything else. You’re allowed to miss one thing.”

Guilt he doesn’t need to feel clouds those amber eyes. “Still. I hate missing stuff.”

My chest tightens again at how genuinely remorseful he sounds. “You work your ass off for her. She’s lucky to have you. Besides,” I add, smiling, “I took very professional nanny notes.”

His lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “Yeah?”

“Yep. The doctor said she’s in the ninety-eighth percentile for adorableness.”

That low, easy laugh of his sends heat curling down my spine.

“We also went on a shopping spree. She deserved a treat for being so good.”

“Define ‘shopping spree.’”

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