The Nanny

Returning to work is a lot harder with the sensation of Cassie’s lips still against mine, but I manage somehow. The restaurant is still as busy as I left it when I slip in through the service entrance, and Marco looks like he’s at the end of his rope, running to meet me with a frazzled look.

“We’re out of shallots.”

I rear back. “How the hell are we out of shallots?”

“Inventory error? I don’t fucking know. But we just used the last of them in a poulet au vinaigre, and I have two more orders for it waiting.”

“Why does it feel like I’m going to be yelling at Alex tonight,” I sigh.

“He’s out sick,” Marco says. “So unless you want to yell at him over the phone . . .”

Fuck.

Maybe I really should have played hooky for the rest of the night. I could be putting together a puzzle at home with the girls right now.

The girls.

It takes me by surprise, the way my brain instantly lumped them together that way. I don’t know when I started to think of them as a package deal, waiting for me at home, but I do, I realize. And it’s getting increasingly more aggravating that I have to spend so much time here away from them.

“Um, hello,” Marco says, waving his hand in front of my face. “Why are you smiling like that? You’re creeping me out.”

“Nothing,” I say, collecting myself. “Do we have yellow onions?”

“Probably.” He turns to yell at one of the line cooks to go check before turning back to me. “Think we can use them as a replacement?”

“It’s likely they won’t even be able to tell. Just add a little bit more garlic. That’s the best we can do.”

“Shit. I didn’t even think of that,” Marco tuts. “That’s great. God. I’m glad you’re back. I was about to have a breakdown.”

I clap him on the shoulder, chuckling, “It’s going to be fine.”

“Fine,” Marco echoes dumbfoundedly. “Who are you and what have you done with Aiden Reid?”

There’s still a ghost of a smile at my mouth as I reach to grab for a clean apron, tying it around my waist as I ready myself for the rest of a busy night. Strangely, it feels less daunting than it did when I walked in.

And I know it’s one hundred percent because of the girls waiting on me at home.

We don’t get the doors to the restaurant closed until after ten, and Marco assures me that he and the others can handle breakdown since I had to come in earlier today. Normally I would fight him on this, but with the possibility of catching Cassie still awake back at the house . . . it doesn’t take much convincing to get me to duck out.

I think it’s because she and Sophie have weighed so heavily on my mind tonight—their day together, the fact that I couldn’t be there—maybe that’s why I decide to call the owner, Joseph, on my way home. It doesn’t take long for him to pick up, his voice ringing through the car speakers after only twenty seconds or so. Normally I would worry about calling someone at this hour, but Joseph is a notorious night owl.

“Aiden? Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Easy night, I hope?”

“Mild shallot disaster, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Yellow onions?”

I laugh. “Yeah, yellow onions.”

“Always does the trick.”

“Actually . . . I was calling about something else.”

“Oh?” I can hear him rustling around, no doubt settling deeper into his favorite leather chair that he likes to smoke in. “Everything going all right?”

“Yes, everything is going great, it’s just . . .”

“Well, spit it out, boy,” he laughs. “I’ve never known you to be tongue-tied.”

“I was considering the possibility of handing off some of my duties to Marco. Lessening my workload a bit.”

“You’re not thinking of quitting are you?”

“No,” I stress. “Of course not. I love it there, and I love working for you. It’s just that . . . ever since Sophie came to live with me full time, I’ve really started to realize just how much I’ve missed out on her life. It’s more obvious when I’m seeing her every day, when I’m reminded every day of how much I’m not seeing. Does that make sense?”

“Of course it does,” Joseph says, and I sigh in relief. “You know I will work with you however I can.”

“I would of course understand if you wanted me to step down as executive chef, or if you needed to cut my wages to make up for the lesser responsibilities—”

“Oh, nonsense,” Joseph scoffs. “No one wants that. We can find a way to make sure you have more time at home without taking you down from the position.” He laughs then. “Marco would shit his pants if we suggested it, anyway. Everyone there knows that the kitchen can’t run without you.”

“I just want to be fair to you.”

“Son, you’ve been fair to me for years now. You’ve worked yourself to the bone. I always hoped you’d find a reason to start taking some time for yourself. There’s no better reason than family.”

I nod heavily, my voice feeling thick. “I really appreciate that.”

“Now you just need to get yourself a girl, and I can really stop worrying about you.”

I’m very grateful that Joseph can’t see my face right now. “About that . . .”

“Oh?”

“I was just wondering if I could bring a plus-one to your birthday party in a few weeks.”

“Well, lo and behold, I have seen it all. You’re coming to the party? And you’re bringing a date?”

“Well . . . I haven’t brought it up yet . . . but I’m hoping that she might like to come with me.”

“Trust me when I say, I cannot wait to meet whatever woman has gotten you to take a step back and start enjoying your own life outside of work. She must be something.”

My mouth twitches involuntarily. “She is.”

“Well, you get on home, and I’m going to get on with the rest of this nice brandy I’ve just poured myself.”

I chuff out a laugh. “Sounds like a fine night.”

“We’ll talk more tomorrow about your plus-one. Hurry up and ask her.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.”

“Night, Aiden.”

“Night, Boss.”

I feel lighter after I hang up; I had no idea how that conversation might go, but I think it’s safe to say I couldn’t have imagined it going any better than that. And it really is time, I think. To start stepping back and being more present at home. When Sophie first came . . . everything in my life was such a mess. I didn’t know how to be her father and run the kitchen at the same time. And maybe that’s still a little true, but . . . I know that if Cassie hadn’t shown up, I would still have my head in the sand, too ignorant to even see how much I was making Sophie suffer. Without her . . . I might never have learned how to properly talk to my daughter.

Realizing this only makes me want to get home to her faster.

There’s very little that could ruin the good mood I’m in now, but when another call signals on my Bluetooth, and Iris’s name pops up on my console display, I find that it’s the one thing that comes dangerously close to doing so. I just never know how the conversation will go with her, and that’s why it always makes me so nervous.

“Hello?”

Iris sounds tired. “Hey. Sorry to call so late. I figured you’d be breaking things down.”

“I actually left early. Decided to head home.”

“That’s unlike you,” she points out.

“Yeah, well, it’s just been a long day.”

“Did Cassie tell you I drove them to the zoo today?”

This throws me. “You did?”

“Her car was acting up and she gave me a call. Even invited me to go with them.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Couldn’t get anyone to cover for me at the store.” She’s quiet for a moment. “She’s tenacious, for a nanny.”

I can’t help but laugh softly. “That’s true.”

“Listen, it’s not something I wanted to discuss around Sophie, but I did feel the need to say . . . that I know Cassie is very pretty and likable. Hell, I’m starting to like her.”

I feel myself prickle, not knowing where she’s going with this. “And?”

“I’m just saying . . . I don’t know how any single man could live with her without something happening.”

“Iris, I don’t know what you’re implying, but I don’t think this is any of your—”

“I’m not attacking you, Aiden,” she sighs. “Honestly.”

“Then what are you trying to say?”

“I just want to make sure that, regardless of whatever relationship may form between you and Cassie—and I do not want to know what that is—I don’t want Sophie to fall to the wayside. Just make sure she’s your number one priority, okay?”

I can’t help but get a little irritated. “I know that without you telling me.”

“Don’t get pissy. I just worry for my niece, okay? I just want to make sure she’s being taken care of in the best humanly way possible.”

“Again, I don’t need you to tell me this.”

Iris sighs again. “Okay. I’m sorry I even called. It’s just been weighing on me. I know from watching them that Sophie loves Cassie, it’s clear to anyone that’s around them for more than a minute, and I just hope that you consider the consequences of Sophie suddenly losing Cassie’s presence in her life if you two were to start something up and it goes sour.”

This makes me pause. Admittedly, it’s something I haven’t had time to consider. Mostly because I don’t want to imagine a possibility of a future where things between Cassie and me go sour.

“I appreciate your concern,” I say tightly, trying to remain civil, “but I can promise you that Sophie has been and will always be my number one priority.”

“All right,” Iris says. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Okay, well then, if you’re done—”

“For what it’s worth,” she cuts in, and I feel myself tense in waiting. “I really do think she loves Sophie very much. I think she’s good for her.”

I keep quiet for several seconds, considering that.

“So do I,” I answer finally.

Iris hangs up to leave me in the silence of the car, left with all the things she’s said and the new possibilities that I hadn’t considered. I absolutely haven’t thought about what it might mean for Sophie if Cassie and I were to suddenly fall apart, knowing deep down that it would devastate Sophie if that were to happen, just as much as I’m realizing it would me.

I grip the steering wheel tighter.

All the more reason to make sure that doesn’t happen.

The house is quiet when I step through the door; Cassie’s room is dark and it’s well past Sophie’s bedtime, so my first assumption is that I’m the only one up. I’m still a little rattled by Iris’s call, and that might be why I bypass Cassie’s room and clod up the stairs wearily in search of the fridge. Maybe a beer will help calm my thoughts.

So it’s a surprise when I step onto the landing to be met with the soft light glowing over the oven—Cassie leaning over the sink with a spoon in hand as she eats directly out of an ice cream carton. I’ve caught her in midbite, the spoon perched at the tip of her tongue as she licks the last of the sweet treat away, and it’s like a Pavlovian response, the way my cock twitches at the sight of it.

She smiles around her spoon. “We have gotta stop meeting like this.”

“It is becoming a habit,” I murmur back, distracted by her mouth.

“How was the rest of your night?”

“Long.” I move toward the counter, closing the distance between us. “Exhausting.”

“Poor baby,” she teases.

If you two were to start something up and it goes sour.

I hate that I’m still thinking about it. This thing between Cassie and me has barely had enough space to breathe, and I’m already worrying about how it might end. Who does that?

“Everything okay?” Cassie sets her spoon in the sink, stowing the carton back into the freezer while I circle the counter to go to her. “You look tense.”

I pull her against me, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and letting it calm my errant thoughts. “Just a really long night.”

“Oh?” She pushes away, smiling up at me coyly as her fingers tease a path down my sternum. “Anything I can do to help with that?”

I reach to cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing against her cheeks. How have I only known her for such a short time? Why does it feel like it would be something unsurvivable if she were to suddenly walk away?

I try to push this ridiculous train of thought far away. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that you have a preferred method of being comforted.”

I grin against her mouth when she pushes up on her toes to meet me, and the thought of making her scream on my tongue does immediately ease some of the tension in my shoulders. “I’d be happy to indulge if you want to hop up on the counter,” I murmur against her mouth.

“Oh no,” she says sweetly, kissing me again gently. “I was thinking I could return the favor.”

“What do you—”

I suck in a breath as she sinks slowly to her knees, tugging at my hips until I’m pressed against the counter, and I brace myself with my hands behind my back.

“Cassie, you don’t—”

She’s already unbuckling my belt. “You don’t think this will make you feel better, Mr. Reid?”

“Fuck,” I hiss, tensing when her hand slips between the fabric to palm me through my boxer briefs. “Jesus, Cassie.” My head turns back towards the empty living room behind the kitchen island I’m currently leaning against, eyeing the dark landing of the stairs. “Sophie . . .”

“Out like a light,” Cassie assures me. “We’ll be quiet.” She peeks up at me with a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “Unless you don’t want to . . . ?”

My good sense wars with the overriding sensation of Cassie’s hands on me, noticing that from the bottom of the stairs, the only thing someone might see if they came along would be my back, given that Cassie is kneeling on the opposite side of the island that hides my legs. It’s a bad idea, probably, but then again, I am still finding it incredibly difficult to think with my brain right now.

“Quiet,” I murmur back, focusing on Cassie’s triumphant grin. “Quick.” I swallow. “You’re sure?”

“Very,” Cassie practically purrs, making my cock twitch under her palm. “Just be still.”

She continues to touch me gently, tracing my shape with her forefinger and thumb before she hooks into the waistband. She grabs at the elastic, inching it down until my cock bobs free, already hard just from her light touch. Her fist immediately wrap around me to give me a heavy stroke from base to tip that has my breath hissing past my teeth, her slim fingers gripping my cock and making my blood heat. The way she strokes me slowly is enough to make me unhinged.

“You have to be quiet, Aiden,” she says with that same coy smile. She teases the tip with her tongue, just enough to make me gasp. “Can you be quiet for me?”

“Careful,” I whisper in warning.

She slides her fist to rest just under the head of my cock, swirling her tongue around it as I shiver, her voice just as soft as mine. “What should I be careful of?”

“You should be careful that I don’t actually fuck that pretty mouth.”

“You can,” she teases, wrapping her lips around me to suck before she lets me go with a wet pop. “If you want.”

God. What is it about Cassie that makes me lose control? I want to be gentle with her, I want to be as sweet to her as she deserves—but every time she touches me, I seem to devolve into some crude state that can’t focus on anything other than fucking her as hard and as deep as I’m able to.

“Then open wider,” I urge through gritted teeth. “Give me your tongue.”

She keeps her eyes trained upward to keep looking at me when she extends her tongue and flattens it just under the broad head, closing her lips around the tip to swirl around it. My mouth parts as my lashes flutter with the heat of her mouth, and I raise my hand almost instinctively to slide my fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face just as she lets the head of my cock bulge against her cheek.

I could come from the visual alone, if I really wanted to.

She pushes up on her knees a bit as she grabs my hip with one hand, letting the other fist at the base of my cock as she slowly, slowly begins to push her lips down the hard length. Her eyes drift closed as she takes me as deep as she’s able—lips meeting her fist as she swallows around the fat head that nestles in the soft warmth of her throat.

“Fuck, Cassie,” I grind out under my breath. “Just like that. Jesus fuck.”

My head falls back as my hips jerk, trying to keep still as she draws back up to caress the underside of my shaft. My stomach clenches when her tongue teases the flared lip just beneath the head before giving the tip a light swirl, and I nearly choke when she starts to flick her tongue against the little slit there.

She lets the entire head slip past her lips after, holding it in her mouth, giving me a heavy stroke up and down before releasing me altogether. She offers up some of her saliva to let it drip down on my cockhead, immediately slicking her fist down the length in steady strokes before she pulls me back inside her mouth, beginning to bob her head in time with her still-stroking fist.

“You’re gonna make me come in your fucking throat,” I say breathlessly, trying and failing to maintain any semblance of control. “That what you want?”

She hums around my cock as her head gives a jerky little nod that only shoves me deeper inside, her nostrils flaring as she breathes in deep through her nose.

I grind my teeth together so hard I fear they might chip. “You want my come in that hot little mouth of yours?”

She moans softly as she pushes down to meet her fist that works the base, and I can see the way her other hand disappears between her legs, the way her wrist moves in a way that can mean nothing else but that she’s touching herself.

“Are you gonna come with my cock in your mouth, Cassie?” My words come out harsh and grating as I try to keep my voice low, trying my best to be as quiet as I’d asked her to be that first time. “Your mouth is a fucking dream,” I pant, my fingers winding through her hair until I’m half gripping it. “Knew it would be. Fuck.”

I fist her hair just above her head, not tight enough to hurt her but tight enough to hold her there—and her hand slips from my cock to reach for my hip, squeezing me in encouragement as she looks up at me through heavy-lidded eyes.

I nod down at her, and then a slow, curious thrust into her mouth—and Cassie just closes her eyes with another soft hum around me. I slide over her tongue slowly but purposefully, pushing deep into her mouth, as deep as I can until I hear the little sounds she makes in resistance, immediately drawing back out as I gauge how much she can take. I repeat the entire process to get a feel for her, my teeth grinding together and my cock painfully hard with the need to come, but I hold on as I do it all again, and again—each thrust coming just a little faster than the last.

“There is no goddamned part of you”—I close my eyes as I give her hair a soft tug and tilt her head back as I start to rock in and out of her mouth faster—“I don’t want to fuck.”

She whimpers when I drive a little deeper—eyes bleary and wet—but she doesn’t shy away. She pushes herself up straighter on her knees, wrist still working furiously as she teases her clit—opening a little wider as my cock nudges at the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” I rasp. “Gonna come. Are you close?”

She only closes her lips around me in answer, forcing me to feel every wet inch of her mouth as I delve inside again and again and again. There’s a soft mewling in her throat that is sharp and staccato as it builds and builds, morphing into a quiet moan as her body begins to tremble, one that reverberates around every inch of my cock and pulls me right over the edge.

My breath leaves me in a rush as I grunt through it, holding my cock in her mouth with a heavy press against the back of her head as I spill into her throat. I can feel her swallowing around me, taking everything I give her—stars blooming in my vision from the sheer pleasure of it all.

My ragged breath is the only sound that remains in the quiet kitchen after—my fingers unwinding from her hair one by one as I pull away to let my softening cock fall from her mouth. I help her up on shaky legs as I pull her against my chest, not caring in the slightest that my come is probably still on her tongue as my hand wraps forcefully around the back of her neck to pull her in for a kiss.

Her hands flatten against my chest as I cage her in, kissing her deeply as my heart slowly begins to cease its erratic pounding.

She scratches her nails playfully against my shirt. “Feel better?”

“I don’t think they have a word for how I feel,” I say with a huff of a laugh. I let my lips slant against hers again briefly before muttering, “How are you so perfect?”

She doesn’t answer, but that shy grin at her mouth speaks volumes—at least for me. How am I supposed to get a handle on all the things she makes me feel when she looks at me like that?

“You know . . . if you set an early enough alarm, you could probably get away with sleeping in my bed.”

“Is that so.” My eyes dip to her mouth. “I can’t promise you I’ll let you sleep.”

Her smile hitches up a fraction as she gives my hand a tug, leading me out of the kitchen toward the stairs. I go easily, because how can I not—thinking about the trouble that I’m in. Because I still have no idea how to make sense of the things I’m feeling, the things I want—nor do I have any way to combat the strange worry they bring, the anxieties that come with getting myself deeper and deeper in this thing we’ve started until we get to a point where I might not survive the end of it. But at this point . . . I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do about it—no way to turn any of it off.

I know deep down . . . it’s too late for that now.