Page 12 of Misery In Me

I throw on my PT gear, tight-fitting shorts, and a T-shirt, lacing up my running shoes with a practiced ease. I grab my jacket as an afterthought and head downstairs.

When I pass the living room, I freeze.

She’s already up and in the kitchen.

Alejandra.

I don’t know why it surprises me. She’s been here for two weeks now, and I should expect this—her dedication, her calm demeanor. I knew she was good with kids, but I never imagined she’d be this... reliable.

I glance into the kitchen, where she’s standing by the counter with Zoe in her arms. Alejandra holds my daughter, whose tiny head rests against her chest, and she hums a soft, soothing tune while looking down at her. It’s a quiet moment, but it hits me harder than I expected. I can’t remember the last time I felt this tired or this... unsure about my feelings.

A messy ponytail holds back her dark brown hair, escaping strands framing a face etched with exhaustion. She took overZoe’s nightly routine so I could get some sleep and go back to my usual schedule. Her T-shirt’s rumpled and stained with traces of formula or maybe it’s spit up. Alejandra’s devotion to Zoe astounds me. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

There you go again, Gage. Don’t do this to yourself.

It’s the way she holds herself, the way she cares for my daughter, that makes her so damn captivating. She’s got this gentle strength about her, something that draws you in without even trying. It doesn’t help that every time I look at her, I feel like I’m breaking my own rule about keeping distance between us.

You can’t fuck the nanny.

I can’t let myself get too close. She’s here to do a job, and I’m paying her for it. That’s all this is. That’s all it can be.

Right?

But even as I think it, my thoughts betray me. I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way her body moves and the way she carries herself with quiet grace. I’ve noticed the softness in her voice and the kindness in the way she looks at Zoe. She’s different from anyone I’ve ever met. She’s not like the women at the bars who wanna ride a Marine’s dick, then hope they get the call the next weekend for round two.

No, she’s different.

And the way she treats me, specifically. Not just the love she shows my daughter, but the way she respects me. Alejandra doesn’t walk on eggshells around me, but she keeps to herself, never letting her eyes linger too long.I see it though.When she looks at me, taking me in. Those fucking beautiful brown eyes make me want to drop to my knees and lay the world at her feet.

It’s dangerous.

She’s dangerous for me.

I run my hand over my face, pushing the thoughts away. I can’t afford to think like that. Years in this game have taught methat letting feelings cloud my judgment means I’m just setting myself up for a failed relationship, ruining the best thing my daughter has going for her.

I can’t do that.

No matter how much I want to touch her.

Taste her.

Feel her body underneath mine.

“Morning,” I grunt, my voice rough from the lack of sleep. It feels like the words are scraping their way out of my throat.

She looks up, a soft smile crossing her lips as she glances toward me. “Good morning, Gage.”

I pause in the doorway, watching her with my baby. There’s a certain tenderness in her I can’t quite place. It’s not like I don’t see women like her. Attractive, well put-together. But there’s something else. Something that feels like it’s pulling me toward her. Maybe it’s that she’s got this maternal thing going on, but I'm sure it’s like that with all nannies.

I clear my throat, trying to shake the thought away. “Zoe still sleeping?” I yawn, even though I already know the answer. The baby’s not making a peep, so I can only assume she’s passed out in Alejandra’s arms.

“Yes,” Alejandra answers, her tone soft. She shifts Zoe slightly, making sure she’s still comfortable. “She woke up a few times last night, but she’s been down for the past hour, in my arms.”

“Good.” I nod, even though I’m not sure why I feel like I need to say it.

I glance at the clock—it’s 0415 now. I’m wasting time, and I can’t afford that. “I’m heading out for PT. I’ll be back to shower and get ready later.”

“Of course,” she replies, and I feel that little spark of something stir again in my chest. “Have a good time.”

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