Chapter 3
1425 Words
ZACH
I GRABBED one last deep breath and jumped out of my truck, closing the door behind me. Today was a new day. I didn't plan to let one hot single mom get to me, like I had yesterday.
"You hear that, Big John?" I said lowering my head closer to my crotch so my d**k would get the message.
He's an embarrassment. Yesterday after Ted called to tell me about my "assignment" as a manny for his Helping Hands nanny service, I rolled my eyes. But I got in the truck and headed over to the address he'd made me repeat back twice while promising I wouldn't blow my fake cover and get him in trouble for not using a real nanny.
A trumped up bet in Vegas may be the reason I'm doing this stupid job, but I plan to do it well. There were men out there who would squelch on a loss, but I wasn't one of them. I'd put in my one-week time with this chick while Ted found a proper nanny and then walk away smiling with my debt paid.
I didn't expect to walk up to her small house and have my breath stolen when she opened the door. And I certainly didn't expect Big John to get a half chub as she walked me around the house explaining my duties. The only thing I can tell you about our first visit is her ass cheeks rub together with the little sway of her hips when she walks. I'd like to tour other places with her in the near future.
Another deep breath filled my lungs and I willed Big John to keep it under control as I knocked on the painted red front door.
At first she stared, the baby asleep on her shoulder. Her eyes raked me up and down as if she didn't remember me or our fateful first meeting.
"Oh, it's you," she said as if she was expecting someone else.
I smiled. "Right on time. I pride myself on my punctuality."
That's the truth. I didn't gain enough clients to open my construction firm at twenty-four by being late. Made my first million by twenty-six and the business has done nothing but grow. Thankfully, I have enough intelligent supervisors to leave in charge that I can miss a week of work to be a fake nanny.
Her smile tipped down into a frown as I stepped closer to the front entrance.
"Are you sure you're a nanny?" she asked.
I laughed, not willing to tell her the truth. That would be a clear rule violation. Plus, Ted could get in a heap of f*****g of trouble if people found out he was passing off five of his friends as mannies because we lost a poker game.
"That's sexist. Can't men be as good as women at raising children?"
Her cheeks reddened, and she stepped back letting me into the house. "Right. Sorry, I mean... you know."
Between the flushed cheeks and her flustered demeanor, Big John hardened.
"Stupid fucker," I whispered to him as I stepped across the threshold.
Ali turned back in my direction. "What?"
"Nothing. What's on the docket today."
She bristled, her whole body shaking once as she walked to the kitchen.
Her presence caught me off guard yesterday. Her blonde hair, a few pieces loose from the pile high on her head, had my d**k primed. I didn't think it could get worse, but I was wrong.
This time she'd prepared. A tight pair of dark colored jeans wrapped themselves around her hips and a body-hugging white T-shirt highlighted the outline of her bra and two small n*****s as they pushed through the material. The house wasn't cold, and I had to wonder if my presence affected her.
She hesitated, looking between me and Jackie. "Let me put Jackie down and I'll be right back."
I stood like a f*****g i***t in the dining room waiting for her to return.
"I'm making a batch of cookies for work. Do you have any experience baking?" Ali asked.
I leaned up against her counter on the opposite side of the workstation she had covered in flour. "Yeah, tons."
That's a lie. f**k no I don't have experience baking. If I brought cookies in to a jobsite, the guys would cut off my nuts and tack them to the wall. Only married men bring those things in as treats from their wives.
Ali sprinkled out flour on top of a ball of dough and then, using her hands, worked to flatten it on the table. Her eyes raised, peeking at me from a down-turned head as if asking for help.
But the constraints of my jeans made it difficult to move, and I didn't plan to lose the view. Two round t**s pushed together by her shoulders stared out at me as she leaned over the counter. When she pulled back, I sucked in a breath, upset at the loss. It didn't last long before she came back and leaned across the counter again. This time she used a roller to flatten out the large ball of dough over the floured space.
"What kind of cookies are you making?" I asked.
She stopped rolling, and I chastised myself, promising not to ask any more questions.
"I thought you had experience?"
Shit. Am I supposed to figure it out from white dough and a rolling pin? "Can't a guy make conversation?" I asked as cocky as possible. When in doubt, be a d**k. It's advice that has never served me wrong.
"Sugar cookies, Zach. I figure I'll bake them this morning and we can frost them this afternoon."
My head nodded in agreement, but my mind was full of other things I could frost. I bet Ali's cookies tasted better than anything she could bake in her oven.
She rested across the counter propping those t**s in my face and I lost consciousness for a moment. An image of me bending her over the counter as I pounded into her from behind, fluffs of flour puffing in every direction with each thrust the only image my brain could process.
Her final push was harder than the rest, and I groaned.
She stopped and looked up, her light blue eyes asking questions her lips wouldn't.
That's the moment I realized I was f****d.
The girl would be mine.
There'd be no way I'd make it till Friday without taking her right against the counter.
But could I f**k and run with a single mother?
"Is there something wrong?" she asked standing up straight.
A better man would walk away and do something else, but Big John made that impossible.
"Well?" She leaned forward. "Do I have something on my face?"
Still speechless, my eyes searched her milky white complexion. "Yeah."
A line of flour dotted her cheekbone like she'd readied herself to do battle against the oven. I leaned across the counter, our faces coming close together and wiped the smudge from her delicate skin. My hand refused to leave, my palm cupping her chin as our eyes stared at one another.
"You're f*****g gorgeous."
Ali whipped back, her eyes large in alarm. "That's not professional."
The ache from Big John grew to almost too much. Soon I'd have to rub one out in the bathroom. "I won't apologize for telling the truth."
She sucked in a breath and choked, patting herself in the middle of her chest, but the only thing I noticed was the way her arm rubbed against her breast, stroking against the n****e. My eyes watch the movement unable to look away.
"Could you like vacuum or something?" she asked obviously flustered. "Stick to the living room so you don't wake up Jackie."
My first inclination was to say no. Why would I vacuum when I could stand here all day and watch her, my mind running wild with fantasies. But the last thing I wanted to do was make her uncomfortable, so I repositioned Big John and took a step back.
"Sure."
She smiled as if getting away from me was what she wanted.
I turned back, plastering on my patented Zach Attack Look-the same expression that melted off any girl's panties in high school. "But don't think this means you and I are done."
"What?" she sputtered as I walked away in search of the vacuum.
Now all I needed to do was remember where the hell she kept the vacuum.
And figure out how to f*****g vacuum.
- Writer
