If You Give a Single Dad a Nanny: a single dad, grumpy sunshine, small town romance

“CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHY we’re going to an art gallery on a Saturday night?” Cash grumbles. “We’re in New York City; we should hit a club or something.”

“Because mom got us tickets,” Harrison chides him as we walk down the sidewalk toward The Artist, a local art gallery my mom told us about.

Cash lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay for an hour tops, then I’m out.”

I wish I had a regular office job with fixed hours on days like today. Due to a setback with the Vanburen project, I had to take another last-minute trip to New York.

Cash and Harrison had to join me this time, so Mom seized the chance to organize a family trip to visit Presley and Jack since our meetings were earlier today and Monday morning. They must have been thrilled when my mom announced that the whole family was coming for a visit.

She insisted me and my siblings go out since it’s Saturday night, and she and my dad stayed at Jack and Presley’s place to watch Lola.

It’s not like they’re short on space. When they moved in together last year, Jack insisted on taking charge of finding a place. The result? A massive eight-thousand-square-foot apartment that spans the entire ninetieth floor of a skyscraper and offers a breathtaking view of Central Park.

The property was an off-market deal with multiple interested parties, so Jack made an offer without consulting Presley first. To say she was upset would be an understatement. When he broke the news, she told him off in front of the entire marketing department at Stafford Holdings. My mom was on the verge of a meltdown, thinking they would break up because of it.

The whole thing was quite comical because they made up the same night and didn’t leave Jack’s place for two days. Nothing could keep those two apart.

They ended up moving into the apartment, but Jack learned his lesson about making expensive purchases without consulting my sister. And springing news on her when they’re at the office.

“Will you two stop bickering?” Presley complains to Cash and Harrison. “You’ve been going at it since we left the apartment.” She leans into Jack, who’s glued to her side, with his arm securely draped around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, we don’t have to stay at The Artist for long. I just want to see if the featured artist has anything that would go in my entryway.” She turns to Jack, who clears his throat. “Sorry, our entryway.”

“That’s my girl,” Jack commends her. “If you find a painting you like, let me know, and I’ll make sure you get it.”

“That’s so sweet.” Presley flashes him a smile.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be thanking me later.” Jack smirks.

“Will you two get a room?” Cash grumbles.

“We have one at home, but it’s more fun getting a rise out of you,” Presley goads him, kissing Jack on the cheek.

Cash makes a gagging motion with his finger in response.

While I’m glad I get to spend time with my siblings, I’m less than enthusiastic that it fell on the weekend. I was hoping to invite Marlow to join Lola and me at another craft class at Brush & Palette—we had a blast the last time she came with us.

But that’s not the only reason I wanted to see her this weekend.

I had hoped we’d finally have one-on-one time together. It’s been a couple of weeks since our conversation in my kitchen when I promised we’d do more than just kiss the next time we were alone. Unfortunately, circumstances have made it so I haven’t been able to make good on my promise yet.

I’ve been on the brink of insanity, not being able to touch her the way I want. It’s absolute torture each night watching her from my home office while she works in her studio and not being able to go over there.

I have this fantasy of laying her out like a canvas and tracing every inch of her with paint. She would look stunning splayed on the floor with a rainbow of colors smudged across her body while I fucked her into oblivion. I may never get the chance to make my fantasy a reality if we’re not able to find a moment alone.

As we round the corner leading to the gallery, we’re met with a line of people stretching down the block. Jack bypasses the queue altogether, and we follow him to the entrance.

“Look,” Presley exclaims with wide eyes. “The artist must paint flowers; how exciting.” She points to a banner on the side of the building—In Bloom: A Textured Floral Journey by Marlow Taylor.

The world around me fades, and it’s difficult to breathe. All the late nights Marlow’s been in her studio flash in my mind like a movie. She mentioned once that she sells her paintings online, so I assumed that’s what she’s been working on.

“Dylan, isn’t your neighbor’s name Mar—” Realization dawns on Presley’s face when she sees my expression. “Something tells me Mom didn’t get us these tickets to check out an art exhibit.”

I glare at Jack, who’s stifling a laugh. “You knew about this?” I accuse him.

I swear I’m going to kick his ass if he did.

He shrugs. “Johanna might have mentioned she heard Marlow had an exhibit in town, and I merely suggested she get tickets for us to come see it.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” I demand.

If I had known sooner, I would have been here when the show started, and brought flowers for Marlow.

“Maybe this will teach you to think twice before you have someone arrested.” He winks and takes Presley’s hand, leading the way into the gallery, denying me the chance to reply.

When Presley brought Jack to Aspen Grove for the first time and pretended they were dating, Harrison was suspicious. After some recon, we found out that Jack was actually Presley’s boss who had been tormenting her for years. We decided to prank him to teach him a lesson for messing with Presley.

It was the first time in a long time that Harrison, Cash, and I had played one of our famous pranks, and we might have gotten carried away. Jack wasn’t thrilled when he had to spend a night in jail, and now, for some reason, he thinks I’m the only one who should pay the price for the stunt we pulled.

“Well, this night just took an interesting turn.” Cash claps his hands together.

I ignore him as we step into the dimly lit gallery. The place is packed with people, but there’s only one person I’m interested in finding.

I scan the room, coming to a standstill, when my eyes land on a painting of a daffodil illuminated by track lighting. It’s white with a peach-colored center, like the one Marlow gave Lola the day we met.

My pulse races when I see the nameplate next to the piece—The New Beginning.

There’s a lump in my throat as I frantically scan the crowd. Why didn’t she tell me about her art show? This has to be important based on the turnout and the SOLD sign next to almost every exhibition label, including the daffodil piece.

I don’t have any right to be upset. We haven’t exactly defined this thing between us, and I’m the one who suggested that we didn’t have to.

Now I regret ever saying that.

I don’t think I even told her where I was going on my business trip or that Lola ended up coming with me. Since Lola and my parents will go back to Aspen Grove on Sunday and I fly home after my Monday morning meeting.

It doesn’t sit well with me that Marlow and I aren’t open with each other. We’ve admitted our feelings, but until now, we’ve let the logistics and a million reasons why we shouldn’t be together get in the way. That ends now.

I want to be the first person she shares her successes with and the one to hold her when she cries. Whether we have a day, a week, or a year together, I’m willing to take the chance. Because aside from Lola, she matters more to me than anyone else.

There she is.

Marlow stands on the other side of the gallery, wearing a black floral knee-length dress with sheer sleeves. The intricate mesh overlay of red, pink, and green flowers entwined with stems suits her perfectly. She’s paired the ensemble with her favorite silver sneakers, and her flowing golden hair falls in waves down her back.

She’s a goddamn vision and I want to make her mine. Only mine.

Just as I’m about to approach, another man sidles up next to her. He’s tall and lanky, with curly black hair, and is dressed sharply in a navy-blue suit. The world spins around me as Marlow grins when he places a chaste kiss on her cheek. I reach my breaking point when he has the nerve to put his hand on her lower back.

I move across the gallery with determination, oblivious to the other patrons giving me a wide berth as I pass.

As I approach, I move in between her and the man, forcing him to drop his hand.

“Dylan?” Marlow’s eyes widen in surprise, and her cheeks turn red when she sees me. “What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I didn’t know this was your show when I walked in, but thank god my mom decided to meddle again because I couldn’t imagine missing this,” I say as I place my hand on her back.

Marlow blinks up at me like she’s not sure she heard me right. She deserves to have her accomplishments recognized, and I’m so damn grateful I’m here to help her celebrate.

If this weren’t her art show, I would throw her over my shoulder and take her to the nearest hotel room.

“Babe, you said the GQ hottie wasn’t going to be here,” the man interjects with a raised brow.

The only word I pay attention to is babe.

I turn to face him, moving my hand to Marlow’s lower back, and tug her closer to my side. “Who’s your friend?” I ask as I pause briefly before extending my hand to the man.

“My name’s Gavin.” He gives me a firm handshake, unphased that I stepped in between them. “It’s nice to meet you.” That’s when I notice his wedding ring.

“Gavin is one of my dearest friends and is a curator at The Artist. He set up my show,” Marlow chimes in as she gives my chest a reassuring pat.

I grumble an acknowledgement. Friend or not, I don’t like the way he touched Marlow or that he called her babe. I may be acting irrational but it’s difficult not to let my emotions take over when Marlow’s involved.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? It’s incredible.” I gesture around the gallery.

Regardless of the reason, I wish she would have extended an invitation so I could have been here for her from the start. I know it shouldn’t, but it bothers me that another man is her primary source of support tonight when I wish it was me.

I’ll do everything to make sure the next time it is.

“I didn’t want to bother you when you had so much going on. Besides, it’s only a small gallery showing. It’s not that big of a deal,” she says, doing her best to downplay the situation.

“Not a big deal? You’re joking, right?” Gavin scoffs. “Marlow, several patrons flew in from Europe to attend your show tonight. If that isn’t proof enough that this is a big deal, we’ve sold all but one of the pieces in your collection, and the exhibition just started thirty minutes ago.”

“I’m buying the last painting,” I say to Gavin.

“Are you sure? It’s the most expensive in the collection. It’s ninety—”

“The cost doesn’t matter. I want it,” I state, leaving no room for argument.

“Consider it done.” He glances between Marlow and me with a knowing look. “I’m going to mark that painting as sold. It was nice to meet you, Dylan.” He strides away, leaving Marlow and me locked in an intense staring match.

“You have no idea what painting you bought. What if you hate it?” Marlow splutters as she steps out of my embrace.

“You made it. Of course I’ll love it,” I say with conviction.

She stares at me, stunned speechless by my declaration. After a few seconds, her eyes turn stormy, and she grabs my arm, tugging me toward the back of the gallery and away from the crowd. She doesn’t stop until we’re standing in a hidden alcove away from prying eyes. She releases my arm, turning to address me.

“I thought you were on a business trip,” she says skeptically.

I anxiously run my hand through my hair. “I was… I am,” I clarify. “I had business meetings this morning, and my mom suggested the whole family fly out for the weekend to stay with Jack and Presley. She’s the one that suggested my siblings and I come here tonight.”

Marlow lets out a humorless laugh. “Quinn mentioned your mom came into Brush & Palette last week. I wouldn’t put it past Quinn to mention my show. Your mom will stop at nothing until we get together, huh?”

“I hope not,” I admit.

Initially, I found her meddling in my romantic life far from amusing, especially when she was determined to set me up with Marlow. However, now I’m thankful for her interference because it’s the only reason I’m here tonight.

“Dylan?” Marlow whispers.

“Yeah?”

“It doesn’t matter how it happened. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too, sunshine.” I walk us backward until she is pinned against the nearest wall, her eyes locked on me.

I’m tired of dancing around the inevitable truth that Marlow and I belong together, and I have every intention of giving her a taste of what it would be like to be mine.

“What are you doing?” she asks softly.

“Close your eyes,” I order.

“Dyla—”

“Trust me?”

Despite her initial reluctance, she closes her eyes and leans her head against the wall, placing her hands at her side.

“Good girl,” I say, kissing her forehead.

She lets out a shuddered breath in response.

“You like it when I call you my good girl, don’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” she says with a nod.

With delicate precision, I trace her angelic face, trailing my fingers across her forehead, moving to her right cheek bone, then her left. My exploration continues, gliding across her pert nose, then outlining the shape of her mouth. I pause briefly, admiring her bright pink lipstick, before running the pad of my thumb across her lips.

I watch the rise and fall of Marlow’s chest, noting the quickening of her breath when I trace the column of her neck. A surge of satisfaction courses through me, fully aware that I’m responsible for her heightened response.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” I murmur.

Her eyes flutter open, and I’m lost in her magnetic blue-green gaze. “You’re not so bad yourself when you’re not being a tyrant.”

Marlow tilts her head back to look at me, and when she smiles, I’m a goner. She winds her arms around my neck, drawing me closer.

I cup her face with my hands, pressing kisses along her jawline. When I get to her mouth, I trace my tongue along her plump bottom lip in teasing strokes. She lets out a soft moan as her tongue meets mine and she tugs me closer. My eyes widen when she playfully tugs my lip between her teeth, and our connection transforms from a tentative exploration to wild and frenzied.

I crash my mouth to hers in a passionate kiss, leaving her gasping for air. I grind my cock against her core, and she pushes against me in response. Our mingled moans fill the air as I greedily explore her mouth with fervor.

It’s a fucking turn-on to witness her uninhibited side first-hand, driving me to give her more than just a kiss, like I promised.

I bunch up the material of her dress, shoving it out of the way, and hike her leg around my waist, placing my other hand securely on her hip. When she grips my hair with her hands, it sparks a fuse inside me.

“No more waiting, sweetheart.” I waste no time pushing her panties aside and sinking two fingers inside her. “Damn, you’re soaked. Is this all for me?”

“Oh god, yes,” she pants.

I lean forward, running my tongue along the column of her neck, peppering kisses along her collarbone. When I add a third finger, Marlow lets out a strangled sound of arousal, blending in with our vocalized pleasure. It’s the most sensual sound I’ve ever heard, making me want her—want this—even more, if that’s possible.

“Are you going to come on my hand with a room full of people only a few feet away?” I whisper.

She nods as she clenches tighter around me.

We’re far enough away from the crowd that there’s no chance of someone walking in on us, but I like watching her reaction at the notion we could get caught.

I give her another passionate kiss to muffle the sound of her pleasure. I refuse to risk anyone else hearing those sweet sounds.

“Oh… Oh my god, don’t stop,” she breathes out.

“Not until you come like my good girl,” I promise.

I’m hard as a rock as I watch Marlow unravel before me. I can sense that she’s close to the edge, her body coiling tighter with each plunge of my fingers. I thrum her clit with my thumb, and within seconds she shatters around my hand. She rests her head on my chest as she lets out a strangled cry of pleasure, plummeting off the precipice. She doesn’t stop riding my hand until I’ve wrung every drop of desire from her core.

She is utterly captivating when she’s on the verge of release but watching her come is something else entirely.

“That’s my girl,” I praise, with another kiss. “It’s safe to say that listening to you come is now one of my favorite sounds.”

I bring my fingers to my mouth, sucking them clean. Marlow bites her lip, watching me with rapture. I flash her a wicked grin as I groan, relishing the taste of her essence on my tongue. She doesn’t take her eyes off me as she reaches down to massage my cock through my pants, but I shake my head.

“What about you?” she asks.

“This was about you.” I gently stroke her jaw. “There will be plenty of time for that later.” I carefully ease her down and smooth her dress into place. “We better get back out there.”

“Do we have to?” Marlow asks as she adjusts my slightly crooked glasses, giving me an adorable grin as she rights them.

“Considering all those people are here for you, I’m afraid so.” My gaze traces the flush on her cheeks. “My siblings were talking about going to a club or dinner after this, and I want you to come with us.”

She tucks her lip between her teeth. “I don’t want to intrude. We’ll see each other when we get back to Aspen Grove.”

I’m not waiting that long to spend more time with her.

“Your show sold out. You’ve got to celebrate, and I’d be honored if you’d let me and my family be a part of it.”

Her expression softens, and a smile lights up her face. “I’d really like that.”

I kiss her soft lips again. “Now let’s get back out there. You’ve worked incredibly hard and deserve to enjoy every second of your success.”