Page 8 of The Stud Next Door (Frisky Business 3)
“What does it do?” the woman asks, her eyebrows raised.
I can tell by the way she’s inspecting it that she’s already a lot more comfortable with the size and shape of the thing. So I explain how the couple’s toy works, beginning with the functionality of the device and ending with its special features—multiple vibration settings, 100 percent silicone design, waterproof exterior, discreet case.
But as I’m answering their questions, there’s an unfamiliar emptiness in my voice. The customers are none the wiser, but it feels like I’m reading from a script. Before I became a dad, I used to take pride in helping couples with their sex lives. Now I just feel like a fraud.
My own sex life is nonexistent. My libido is next to gone, except in the inconvenient moments when it’s appeared like a tornado around Jessa.
Not gonna lie . . . the girl inspires a whirlwind of conflicting emotions in me.
Jessa is a total pro when it comes to babies—anyone could see that. It honestly shocks me that she hasn’t nannied before. She just seems to know things about babies, things that I haven’t figured out in my two months of fatherhood. She makes it look easy. Too easy. But she’s also very pretty, and that’s been more than a little distracting.
My dad brain wants me to wife her, and my dick wants me to bed her. The romantic in me wonders if I could do both, but then the businessman in me shuts it all down with the simple but cogent reminder: She’s the nanny. You’re her employer. Don’t be a creep.
It goes on like this for the rest of the day as I help customers find the right fit for their needs, all the while doing my best not to think about using the very same products with Jessa. Wondering how her sweet voice would sound begging for more . . .
And just like that, I’m hard. Fucking seriously?
I tell Hayes a bald-face lie in mid-debrief, saying I have to piss, just so I can splash some cold water on my face and take a breather. Keep it together, man. I either need to jerk off tonight or switch professions.
That settles it. It’s time to call it a day.
With that sobering thought, I exit the bathroom and call out to the guys, “I’m heading out.”
Hayes glances at his watch, a slow smile spreading on his face. “You made it longer than I thought you would. Six whole hours.”
I chuckle, grabbing my keys and wallet from my desk drawer. “You’ve got to ease into these things, I’ve found.”
He gives me a short wave. “Glad you’re back, dude. Makes a huge difference.”
“It’s good to be back.”
Caleb pokes his head out of the stockroom, a cocky expression on his dumb face. “You know, we were fine without you, dickwad.”
“Tell that to the books,” I shoot back, feinting a punch inches from his nose.
He flinches and swears, knocking my fist away before returning to the stockroom with a grumble.
“Give Marley our love,” Wolfie mumbles distractedly from his own workstation, his gaze glued to his computer.
I call over my shoulder, “You got it,” and let the door swing closed behind me.
My commute back up Lake Shore Drive to the northern suburbs takes me a little less than a half hour, but I’m grateful for the time to think.
When Marley was born, it seemed like I would never have time to myself again. Being a single dad means life is busier than ever, while still feeling crushingly lonely. The thought of coming home to a woman—coming home to Jessa—sends a tingling warmth up my spine, all the way to my heart.
Whoa, there. Fantasizing about the nanny is unavoidable, but catching feelings? There’s no way I’m going to let that happen.
It has to be because she’s the first woman I’ve had in my home—well, other than my female friends, right? And because she’s good for Marley? Yeah, that’s got to be it. Definitely no catching feelings.
Be realistic, dude.
The lights are on in the kitchen when I pull into my driveway. My chest tightens at the sight of a woman’s silhouette standing at the sink. I try to shake off the residual sentiment by taking the steps two at a time.
Before I turn the house key in the lock, I take a moment to steel myself. Be cool. With a sharp inhalation, I twist the knob.
Just as I do so, the door swings open, Jessa greeting me on the other side. Her cheeks are a rosy pink, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail like the first time I met her. She’s just as beautiful.
“I heard the car pull in. Thought I’d let you in,” she says softly.
Marley is tucked against her chest in some sort of makeshift sling, fast asleep. The sight of her brings a smile to my lips.
