Page 49 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
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JACE
I lean against the counter, watching the chaos of the party unfold. Daisy is darting around, proudly showing off the handmade decorations she and Tessa put together, while Tessa hovers nearby, quietly making sure everything runs smoothly. I can’t help but notice the way she moves—efficient, graceful, yet somehow effortlessly charming—and it throws me off more than I care to admit.
I grab a slice of cake, taking a slow bite while scanning the room. The Morgan siblings are laughing, teasing one another, clearly enjoying themselves. Everyone’s in on it—the effort, smiles, sheer energy of this celebration—and I can feel a tug at my chest. This is thoughtful, personal, and carefully orchestrated.
Tessa catches my gaze for a brief second and gives me a small, almost imperceptible nod, like she’s acknowledging that yes, she did this, and yes, I should appreciate it. And I do. I can’t help it. I notice the little details—the banners hand-lettered, and the cake decorated with tiny stars that match Daisy’s sparkly eyes.
Speaking of my munchkin, she runs up, cheeks flushed with excitement. “Daddy! Do you see the banner? And the cake?”
I pull her into a quick hug, ruffling her hair. “I see, Bug. You did a fantastic job.”
She beams, eyes sparkling, and I glance at Tessa again. “You pulled a lot of this together, didn’t you?”
She shrugs, trying to play it off casually, but I catch the flicker of pride in her eyes. “Maybe,” she says softly. “We just wanted you to have a good day.”
I swallow hard, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. They’ve gone out of their way to make me feel appreciated. I take a slow breath, letting the love around the room settle over me.
“Alright,” I say, voice low but carrying just enough weight to make them both pay attention. “I think it’s time I officially forgive you two for the hair incident.”
Daisy squeals, jumping slightly in her seat. “Really, Daddy?”
“Really,” I reply, shaking my head. “Tessa, you went out of your way to plan this whole thing. I can’t stay mad at someone who puts this much thought and effort into making me happy.” Ipause, letting my gaze linger on her a fraction longer than usual. “Even if it means breaking a few rules along the way.”
Tessa’s lips twitch, just the hint of a smirk, and I feel my chest tighten unexpectedly. She’s brilliant, stubborn, and a little reckless, but somehow, all of it works together.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to do something nice.”
I shake my head again, trying to keep my tone light but firm. “Well, you succeeded. Both of you.”
Daisy beams, and I reach over to ruffle her hair. “Just don’t make a habit of dyeing it again without asking first,” I add, letting the scolding slide in with a smile.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Tessa’s eyes flick to mine, playful yet soft, and I realize that whatever tension existed before—the hair, the scolding, my gruffness—is gone. It’s replaced by something warmer, something like admiration. And maybe, just maybe, desire.
Whatever this is between us, it’s far from simple. But for now, I can forgive, and I can enjoy it.
The party runs for a couple more hours. We eat, dance, laugh, play games, and have an overall good time. It’s the best thirty-fourth birthday I could have asked for.
A few minutes past midnight, the house is finally quiet. Only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the tick of the hallway clock break the stillness. A few balloons cling to the ceiling, and the smell of cake and food lingers in the air. Everyone starts leaving one by one. Beck carries a sleepy Daisy upstairs with Quinn following behind him. Zane has his daughter on one arm, the other wrapped around his wife as he leads them to their cabin. Dad and Ella bid us goodnight before disappearing upstairs as well.
I stand there in the kitchen for a moment, still a little stunned. The laughter, the music, the candles—it all feels surreal. I didn’t think I needed to be celebrated. Didn’t think I wanted it. But damn if it didn’t hit me somewhere deep.
Tessa’s at the sink, sleeves rolled up, rinsing plates. The lamplight hits her hair just right, soft gold over her shoulders. She’s humming something low, a tune I can’t place. I should tell her to leave the mess for tomorrow, but my chest is full and I can’t make myself interrupt.
“Hey,” I finally say. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.
She glances over her shoulder, cautious at first. “Hey yourself. You survived your big surprise.”
I nod, step closer. “I didn’t see it coming.”
Her smile flickers. “That was kind of the point.”
For a heartbeat, the air between us holds that quiet thing we’ve been avoiding—weeks of distance, tension, words left unsaid. I reach past her to stack a few clean plates, just to do something with my hands. She moves to the side, close enough that her shoulder brushes my arm. It’s nothing, but it sparks everything.
“You and Daisy went to a lot of trouble,” I murmur.
