Hot Single Dad Page 5

  I like it.

  I bring up the first episode and press play. I don’t know what it says about me that I’m so much more comfortable here, hanging out with Caleb—who, let’s not forget, is my employer—rather than at a bar with a bunch of people my own age. That thought is a little unsettling, and I’m reminded once again of how abnormal I am. But instead of dwelling on it, I snuggle down into the soft armchair to watch my show.

  7

  Caleb

  The parking lot is packed, but that’s no surprise. We’re in the midst of a random September heat wave, and when the sun comes out in Seattle, people come out of the woodwork. Probably because it’s cloudy and gray for so much of the year.

  Charlotte reads a book while I circle around, looking for a spot. I happen to have a Saturday off and Kendra suggested we all meet at Alki Beach for the day. Charlotte lit up like a tiny little star when I said the word beach, so come hell or high water, I’m finding a damn parking spot.

  Linnea points. “Over there. Someone’s leaving.”

  “Thanks.” I turn and stop while the other person backs up.

  It occurred to me when we got about halfway here that I didn’t need to bring Linnea. I never used to bring Charlotte’s nannies with me to hang out with my family. They’ve always just watched Charlotte while I’m at work, but never when I’m off. I try to tell myself Linnea is different because she lives with us. She didn’t have plans today, so why not invite her along?

  It has nothing to do with wanting to see her in a swimsuit. That would be completely inappropriate.

  But really, it would have been strange not to bring her. She’s hung out with my family a few times. We get together pretty often, and Linnea always comes along. No one has questioned it, which makes me wonder where the line is between us. It’s feeling a little blurry lately. She’s not just the nanny.

  Although, of course she’s not; she’s Charlotte’s aunt. But it feels like more than that. We’ve become friends. Maybe even good friends.

  I pull into the parking spot and Linnea helps me grab our gear for the day. You’d think with just one child, I wouldn’t have to bring half of what we own, but that’s what it feels like. Charlotte carries her backpack, stuffed with books, a beach towel, hairbrush, change of clothes, and her own bottle of sunscreen. Between me and Linnea, we have a cooler, a bag with more towels and sunscreen, a beach blanket, Charlotte’s sand toys, and another bag of snacks.

  Everyone else is already here; I chalk it up to being the only one with a kid. They have towels spread out on the sand, a little way up from the edge of the water. The parking lot was full, but down on the beach, there’s plenty of space.

  Kendra is laying with her head on Weston’s thigh. She’s dressed in a blue and purple floral bikini and a sun hat obscures her face. Weston has on blue board shorts and sunglasses.

  To the surprise of no one, Mia is reading a book. She’s also wearing a bikini—hers is black with green and blue stripes—and she’s leaning back against Alex. He’s dressed like Weston—board shorts and sunglasses.

  Everyone says hi as we approach and Kendra gets up to help us get settled. Charlotte gives everyone hugs and fishes a picture out of her backpack that she drew for Weston. Kendra watches Charlotte give it to him with her hand covering her mouth like she’s trying not to cry. It makes me wonder if they’ve had any luck getting pregnant. They haven’t said anything; I’m certainly not going to ask.

  Charlotte wastes no time pulling off the t-shirt and shorts I insisted she wear in the car, and Linnea immediately starts putting sunscreen on her.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Sure.” She smiles at me and goddammit, she’s beautiful.

  We get our big blanket spread out and our stuff situated. I take off my shirt so I can soak up some sun. The heat feels great. Linnea pulls off her tank top and skirt, revealing her swimsuit underneath. If I didn’t think she looked like a pinup before—which I did—she certainly does now. She’s wearing a vintage-style navy and white polka-dot one-piece that frames her ridiculous tits beautifully. I have to tear my eyes away from her, but I know Weston saw me staring. Damn it.

  “Kendra, see my new swimsuit,” Charlotte says. She fluffs out the little ruffle around the waist. “My old one was too small.”

  “That’s so pretty, Bug,” Kendra says.

  Charlotte looks from Kendra to Mia, then to Linnea. “Linnea, why doesn’t your swimsuit show your tummy?”

  Mia snorts. “Bug, I don’t think a bikini exists that could contain Linnea’s… I mean… it’s probably just…”

  “Contain Linnea’s what?” Charlotte asks.

  “You know what happened?” Linnea cuts in, totally nonplussed. “I tried on a whole bunch of swimsuits, and this one was my favorite. Even though it doesn’t show my tummy.”

  “Why is it your favorite?” Charlotte asks.

  “It’s comfortable,” Linnea said. “And I think the polka dots are pretty.”

  “It is pretty,” Charlotte says.

  “Thank you,” Linnea says. “Yours is pretty too.”

  “Wow, that was a good answer,” Mia says.

  “Can I go play in the water?” Charlotte asks.

  I’m grateful for the change of subject. “Sure, Bug.”

  I start to get up, but Linnea takes her hand.

  “That’s okay, I’ll take her.”

  “Thanks.”

  Linnea holds her hand as they walk down to the water. Charlotte has a little plastic bucket and shovel. They stop at the edge of the water where the waves lap lazily up the sand.

  Kendra stretches out on the towel again, leaning against Weston, her face obscured by her sun hat. Mia fusses with a pair of sunglasses that she’s trying to wear over her regular glasses; Alex expertly ducks out of the way of her flying elbow.

  “How’s the new nanny working out, Affleck?” Weston asks.

  I glance over at him. “What?”

  Mia laughs. “I get it. Because Ben was banging the nanny.”

  “He was what?” I ask. “Wait, was that ever confirmed?”

  “He was so hitting that,” Weston says.

  “Yeah, well, it made the news because he was married,” I say. “I’m not.”

  “So you’re hitting that?” Weston asks.

  “No, that’s not what I… Fuck off, Reid.”

  “Whatever you say, Affleck.”

  “Stop calling me that, asshole.”

  Mia gasps, putting a hand to her mouth.

  “You okay, babe?” Alex asks her.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before,” she says.

  “See what?” Alex asks.

  “Linnea is the nanny.”

  I furrow my brow at her. I have a feeling I don’t want her to finish this train of thought, but maybe it’s better if she does it before Linnea comes back. “Yes, she’s Charlotte’s nanny. You already knew that.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” Mia says. “You’re the hot single dad, and she’s the nanny. K-Law, back me up here.”

  Kendra lifts her sun hat. “Oh my god, Mia, you’re right.”

  “See? Kendra knows what I’m talking about.”

  “Maybe someone could clue me in, because I have no idea,” I say.

  Mia sighs, like she’s having to explain something simple to a person who should know better. “That’s a thing, Caleb—the hot single dad falling for the nanny.”

  “A thing?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “So, are you?”

  “Am I what?” I ask.

  “Falling for her.”

  For fuck’s sake. I shake my head and try to act like I’m blowing off her comment as utter nonsense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t,” Mia says, her voice thick with sarcasm. She tilts her head, and I think she’s watching Linnea down by the water’s edge. “Man, I’m off my game. I should have picked up on that a lot sooner.”

  “You and me both,” Kendra sa
ys.

  “You think?” Alex asks.

  I groan. Of course my brother—the man who writes romance novels—speaks their language.

  “Oh yeah,” Mia says. “I mean, Linnea is awesome and Caleb is a total DILF. It works.”

  “He’s what?” Alex asks, his voice flat. “Did you just say my brother is a dad you’d like to fuck?”

  I look over at them in alarm, my eyes wide.

  “Yeah,” Mia says. “I don’t mean that I literally want to fuck your brother. It’s just an expression.”

  Alex glowers a little and Mia laughs.

  “Come on, he looks just like you,” Mia says. “He’s a good-looking guy. I’m sure lots of women want to fuck him.”

  I put my hand over my eyes and shake my head. “Oh my god.”

  “Yeah, some girls are into the dad bod,” Weston says.

  “What?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Some girls like their guy cuddly. Maybe that’s why they go for the DILFs.”

  I gape at him.

  Kendra peeks at me from beneath her hat. “He doesn’t have a dad bod. He has a six pack.”

  I glance down at myself, feeling oddly self-conscious. I work out six days a week, even on days when I have a long shift.

  “You do have a cute little roll underneath, though,” Kendra says.

  “What the fuck, Kendra,” I say.

  She laughs. “I’m just teasing. Besides, I’m sure Linnea doesn’t mind.”

  “You guys, stop,” I say. Linnea is still far enough away that she can’t hear us, but I have to put an end to this nonsense right now. “Nothing is going on.”

  “Yet,” Mia says, the word snapping in her mouth like gum popping.

  “No, yet has nothing to do with it,” I say. “Seriously, you guys need to shut up. You’re going to embarrass her.”

  “I would never,” Mia says.

  “Well, you wouldn’t on purpose,” Kendra says.

  Mia scrunches up her nose. “Okay, that’s fair. But if this happens, let the record show, I called it.” She looks at me and points at Kendra and Weston. “And I called it with them, too.”

  Linnea brings Charlotte back and we all break out food for lunch. Weston keeps sneaking Charlotte cookies—like I can’t see him—but I let him get away with it. We hang out and eat, and thankfully the conversation doesn’t return to things like dads falling for nannies, DILFs, or dad bods.

  I take Charlotte on a walk down the beach and we find a few seashells. Then Linnea and I help her build a sandcastle. It’s more like a sand mound, but Linnea finds a few sticks to poke in the tops of the so-called towers, like flags, and we use the seashells we picked up as decoration.

  Charlotte has to use the bathroom, and Linnea volunteers to take her. I head back to our stuff and sit on the blanket.

  “Okay, what about those?” Mia asks.

  “What are you guys doing?” I ask.

  “Playing real or not real,” Mia says. She points to a woman in a black and gold bikini. “So, her? I say real.”

  Weston pulls his sunglasses down and glances at the woman. “Not real.”

  “What?” Mia says. “Yes they are.”

  “Nope,” Weston says.

  “They don’t look fake at all,” she says.

  “Wait,” I say. “Real or not real, meaning boobs?”

  “Yeah,” Mia says, sounding dejected. “I swear, those look totally natural. How can you tell?”

  “Too round and too much lift for her size,” Weston says. “They’re not bad. Although they’re not good enough to be a set of mine.”

  Mia sticks her chest out and looks down. “I’m pretty round, aren’t I?”

  Weston looks her up and down. “Yeah, your breasts have an excellent shape.” He reaches over and lightly cups a hand beneath one of her boobs. “Good lift, too.”

  “Dude, hands off,” Alex says.

  “He’s a doctor,” Mia says. “It’s fine.”

  “He won’t be if I break his fingers,” Alex says.

  Weston doesn’t seem the least bit fazed, and Kendra laughs softly from beneath her hat.

  “Okay, before she comes back, what about Linnea?” Mia asks, ignoring Alex. “Real or not real?”

  “Is this a game you guys play often?” I ask.

  “Sometimes,” Mia says. “I never beat him, though. I shouldn’t play against a plastic surgeon. Come on, Weston. Are hers real?”

  “Real,” he says.

  “How can you tell?” Mia asks. “I know they are, but let’s be honest, they’re amazing. They could be fake, right?”

  “Yeah, women pay a lot of money to look like her,” Weston says. “I can tell because they have a slight teardrop shape.” He turns to me. “You should tell her to make sure she always wears a supportive bra. Gravity isn’t going to be on her side when she gets older. Especially if she has kids.”

  I gape at him.

  “Yeah, but then she can just go see you, right?” Mia asks.

  “Yeah, I’ll fix her,” Weston says, totally matter of fact.

  “Oh my god, can we stop talking about Linnea’s boobs, please?” I ask. This is almost worse than the DILF conversation.

  Thankfully, they drop the subject before Linnea and Charlotte come back. My family is so weird.

  After we hang out a while longer, we decide it’s time to go. Linnea helps me pack our things. We say goodbye to everyone and head back to the car.

  The three of us are warm and tired from a day spent in the sun. I glance over at Linnea and she smiles. There’s a comfort between us that surprises me. It’s a pleasant, contented feeling. I enjoyed this day so much more than I would have without her. I’m not sure what that means, but I’m starting to wonder if what I’m feeling is more than just physical attraction.

  There’s no denying she’s beautiful—and my god, so fucking sexy. But if I was only interested in her body, I think it would be easier to get over this infatuation. Instead, the longer she’s here, the worse it gets.

  I take a deep breath. It must be the sun. Or the heat. Or spending an afternoon looking at her in a swimsuit. I think back on what Mia said. Am I falling for her?

  I know what a bad idea that is, but I’m not sure I can stop.

  8

  Linnea

  The sun makes me squint, so I pull my sunglasses out of my purse. It’s a short walk to Charlotte’s school, and it’s such a nice day. The air is cool—a refreshing change after the heat we had a few weeks ago. Now it feels like fall. Maybe I’ll see if Charlotte wants to go to the park before we go home. We don’t have anything planned this afternoon.

  A few of the moms stand in a little half-circle near the classroom door. They glance at me when I approach. The looks they give me aren’t exactly friendly, so I usually keep my distance. I don’t know why they look at me that way. They don’t know me. In fact, they’ve never tried to talk to me. Granted, I don’t try to talk to them either, but who can blame me? It’s not even shyness at this point; some of them just don’t seem very friendly.

  I lean against the short fence that runs around the small courtyard in front of the classrooms. A few more moms wander over, a couple of them pushing strollers. I glance up at the small group by the door and I see one of them say the word nanny.

  Wow, I think they’re talking about me.

  I got good at reading lips when I was little. Being quiet doesn’t mean you aren’t paying attention—quite the opposite—and I noticed everything. It became a habit to watch people’s mouths to see what they were saying. I didn’t realize until I was older that in a lot of situations, it’s rude.

  This time, I don’t care if I’m basically eavesdropping from across the courtyard. They’re not trying very hard to hide that they’re discussing me. Maybe because I have sunglasses on and it looks like I’m not paying attention to them.

  It’s obvious why he hired her, one woman says. Another woman leans closer to her. Do you think he sleeps with all of them? The first woman nods. Why d
o you think he goes through so many nannies?

  I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Is that what they think of me? What they think of Caleb? It’s not his fault he went through so many nannies; it wasn’t because he was sleeping with them. And he’s certainly not sleeping with me.

  Not that I would object if he wanted to…

  Cool it, Linnea. Calm those traitor hormones. Do I have to remind myself—again—of all the reasons Caleb is off limits?

  The friendly mom, as I’ve been calling her in my head, arrives. She’s super cute in a gray cardigan over a pink t-shirt and jeans. Her dark hair is cut short, and like usual, she’s wearing a brightly colored cloth headband. Today’s is pink and orange paisley.

  She stands close enough that I could start a conversation if I wanted. I’ve thought about it so many times, but I’ve never been good at making the first move—not with men, or potential friends. But maybe I should just suck it up. I glance at the women who were talking about me, but they aren’t looking in my direction anymore.

  I slip off my sunglasses and make eye contact. My heart starts to beat faster, but I take a deep breath. “Hi. Sorry, I see you all the time and I’ve never introduced myself. I’m Linnea.”

  She smiles. “Megan. It’s nice to meet you. Your little girl is…?”

  “Charlotte,” I say. “But I’m her nanny.”

  “Oh, I see,” she says. “My son is Noah.”

  I get a little tongue-tied at that point because I’m not quite sure what to say next. I want to explain that I’m not just Charlotte’s nanny—I’m her aunt—but now it seems strange to say it. Just when the silence is about to get awkward, Megan leans closer and lowers her voice.

  “You know, I’ve noticed that Charlotte and Noah seem to have a little something in common,” she says.

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m in the same boat,” she says. “But the other kids come out laughing and run to their moms. But Charlotte always looks so serious. I only noticed it because Noah is the same way.”

  “Charlotte’s shy,” I say. “I think some people assume she’s mad or pouting, but she’s actually feeling anxious and scared.”