Page 16 of Church Girl
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she says, tilting her head back and looking me in the eye. “I won’t touch nuthin’ else.”
“That’s my girl. And thank you for the apology. You showing me what a big girl you are.”
At my praise, a grin breaks across her face again. Thank God she has no idea how much I adore her or that I would burn this fucking world to the ground for her. She would be a goddamn terror if she did.
A soft cough reminds me that we have an audience, and damn. For a moment, I forgot about Aaliyah being here. I switch my attention from Gia to the petite woman standing on the other side of the front desk.
“Hey, Aali—” I scowl, cocking my head and staring at her. “What the fuck happened to you?”
The smile softening her face evaporates, and she matches my frown. In spite of the glare she’s shooting my way, amusement wells up within me. It’s almost like watching a panda mug me. Too cute to be taken seriously.
Yeah, I need to shut that shit down.
There’s nothing cute about my new nanny. Not that I can notice anyway. One, I need her, since my last two were absolute shit shows. Two, all that innocence makes my ass itch.
And three, no matter how beautiful this woman is, she has trouble written all over her, like the time Gia took a blue crayon to her wall when she was three. Bright as fuck and impossible to get rid of.
Last time I didn’t heed that shit, I ended up with a wife who turned into my bitter and bitchy ex. As George Bush once said, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me—you can’t get fooled again.” Ol’ boy fucked that saying up, but he ain’t wrong.
“What’s wrong with me?” Aaliyah asks. There’s an edge to her tone, but a hint of red stains her rounded cheekbones.
“Last time you walked up in here looking like you were headed to a Sunday prayer service and now...” I wave a hand up and down her small, ridiculously hot frame. Shit, even if that soft, honeyed drawl hadn’t announced she came from the South, that corn bread–fed body would. Baby girl’s curves are sick. And damn, I wish she was back in that nun’s habit.
“And now, what?” She pops her fists on the wide, dick-hardening flare of her hips.
I shrug. “Now you look like you’re ready for hot girl summer.”
She glances down at herself, and shit, so do I.
So I exaggerated. But given what she wore in here last time, the short-sleeved green shirt conforming to her small, perfect breasts and gently rounded belly, and the tight, high-waisted jeans shrink-wrapped to those thick thighs might as well be some shorts and shirt with her ass and tits hanging out. Those cinnamon-colored freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks don’t even diminish her sexiness.
She stares at me, seemingly speechless. For a moment, uncertainty flickers across her face, but in the next second, it’s gone. So fast that maybe I imagined it because her face blanks just as it’d done over a week ago when she’d been in my office. And like then, a curiosity I don’t want gnaws at me. Who taught her that defense mechanism? More, why? Deliberately hurting this woman would be like kicking a puppy.
“Let’s start over,” she says, her voice as even as her expression is bland. “I’m here in the hour and a half I promised when you called. Now, can I meet your daughter?”
Oh okay. The kitten has claws. Tiny, baby claws, but there, nonetheless. I’m analyzing why this pleases me, but damn if it doesn’t. She might sound tougher if her voice didn’t hold a slight quiver, but I’m feeling grateful today, so I won’t point it out. If she really wants to scare somebody, lil’ mama better work on that. Other people out here will take that as a sign of weakness and eat her up.
And not in the way that will have her thighs shaking around someone’s head as she screams their name.
Fuck. My gaze drops to said thighs because, shit, I’m human.
But I’m also her new employer, for fuck’s sake. That reminder snatches a knot in my ass real quick, and I shift my focus back where it should be—Gia.
“G.” She looks at me, and surprise that she’s remained quiet all this time flashes through me. I reach my hand out to her, and she wraps her small fingers around mine. I walk her over to Aaliyah. “This is your new nanny, Miss Aaliyah. Aaliyah, my daughter, Gia Howard.”
“Hi,” Gia whispers, crowding closer to my leg. While she’s talkative as hell, that’s only after she warms up to a person. The fact that she doesn’t even ask why Aaliyah’s here instead of her old nanny says a whole sermon.
“Hi, Gia. That’s such a pretty name. But then again, you’re a pretty girl.” Smiling, Aaliyah hunkers down in front of us. So this is what she’d look like if she knelt for my—gotdammit, no. I shut that thought down with so much force, I feel a twinge at my temples. Aaliyah offers Gia her hand. “You can call me Aaliyah. No need for Miss, okay? Can I call you Gia or do you prefer Miss Gia?”
I swallow a snort as my daughter’s giggle vibrates against my leg. “I’m not a Miss.”
“Really? Are you sure?” Aaliyah scrunches her face up. “You look like a Miss. What’re you? Twelve? Fourteen?”
“I’m seven!” Gia announces, moving away from me.
Aaliyah gives a shocked gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. “Wow. Seven. You had me fooled.” She grins, and hand still hovering between them, she waits for Gia to take it, which she does. Aaliyah pumps her hand up and down then releases Gia. Rising to her feet, she says, “Since you’re a big ol’ seven, and I’m new here, you want to show me the ropes? My cousin told me about this place we can try out. You heard of Sloomoo?”
Gia steps closer to Aaliyah. Her wide eyes and smile betray her excitement. As does the bounce she gives on her toes. “Yes!” All it took was the promise to play in some slime, and Gia’s moving to Aaliyah’s side, taking her hand once more. “It’s so much fun! Bye, Daddy!”
