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

I TOSS A BOX OF LIMITED-edition Lucky Charms with unicorn-shaped marshmallows in my shopping basket for Lola. Occasionally, I surprise her with a gift when I come across something she might like.

Even though she’s obsessed with all things unicorn and rainbows, I doubt she’s ever had this kind of cereal. From what she’s told me, it sounds like Dylan has an aversion to junk food, which I assume includes sugary cereal. This further confirms my decision. You could say I have a thing for pushing his buttons—it makes me positively giddy.

If he saw the contents of my shopping basket, he’d probably develop an ulcer. It’s filled with frozen corn dogs, Frosted Strawberry Pop-Tarts, Cheez-Its, creamy peanut butter, canned beef ravioli, and a loaf of bread—my essentials during a big painting project. They aren’t the healthiest options, but I prefer quick and easy meals since I often forget to eat when I’m immersed in the creative process.

As I roam the aisles, my thoughts wander to my unusual interactions with Dylan in the last two days. First, there was the incident when he wiped the paint off my face. I’m weak at the knees remembering the touch of his thumb grazing along my lower lip, and his lingering gaze.

And yesterday, I would have figured he’d come pounding on my door, demanding I turn my music down. His approach of using Waffles as a mediator was surprisingly comical and endearing, and I nearly fainted from shock when he smiled at me. It’s not like I’ve been trying to get that man to crack a smile for the past thirteen months or anything.

It’s a drastic change from his typical responses, which include a glower, accompanied by sulking and grumbling, with the occasional curt nod tossed in when he’s in a good mood.

Aside from his surly attitude, there is no denying that Dylan is attractive. He reminds me of a modern-day Clark Kent, with short black hair, chocolate brown eyes, a chiseled jawline, and his black-rimmed glasses. Not to mention he’s positively mouthwatering in a three-piece suit, although I wouldn’t admit that to anyone.

When I finish shopping, I take my grocery haul to the register at the front of the store.

Before I moved to Aspen Grove, I assumed small-town grocery stores like Doose’s Market in Gilmore Girls didn’t exist. That is until I visited Main Street Market for the first time and met the owner, Willis Moore. He’s a stout man with a thick beard and calloused hands, a testament to being in business for forty years, and he often tells me he’ll never retire. I hope he means it because I look forward to seeing him when I stop by.

“Good evening, Willis,” I say as I place my basket on the counter and take out the contents for him to scan.

“Evening, Marlow,” he greets me, his amber eyes sparkling with warmth. “Where’s your little sidekick tonight? He’s usually with you.”

Despite his unruly behavior, Waffles has made more friends in Aspen Grove than I have.

Since he knocked down an entire display of oranges when he spotted a cat outside, Willis has him hang out behind the counter while I shop. He likes to give Waffles a homemade meatball while he waits.

“He was tuckered out from our afternoon walk, so I left him home to rest.” I return the empty basket near the front entrance before coming back to stand at the counter.

Willis chuckles. “Those little legs can only carry him so far, I suppose.”

He’s right. Waffles might have the energy of a purebred Australian Shepherd, but his corgi genes get in the way of his aspirations.

“Bring him next time, will you? I’m trying a new meatball recipe that I want him to taste.”

“You got it, Willis.”

Once he’s finished ringing everything up, I pay for my groceries and help him bag everything into the two reusable totes I brought with me.

“You’re all set,” he announces triumphantly when everything’s loaded in the bags.

“Thanks so much. I hope you have a great night.”

“You too.” He pats me on the hand. “Be sure to give Waffles a treat when you get home. He deserves one after that long walk today.” He pushes my groceries toward me.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be eating like a king tonight.”

“Good, good,” he says, nodding in approval. “See you soon, kid.”

I take the bags off the counter and give Willis a parting smile. Another patron kindly opens the door for me on their way into the store.

Stepping outside, I inhale deeply before I begin my walk home, realizing just how much I’ve come to appreciate living in Aspen Grove. Everyone is friendly and always willing to help each other out.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with fitting in, driven by my constant urge for change and inability to stay in one place for very long. While I enjoy traveling and experiencing new cultures, I’ve felt like something has been missing. No matter how many countries I’ve visited, new people I meet, or adventures I pursue, I’ve never felt satisfied.

When I adopted Waffles, he filled a void that I never knew existed. We instantly became a family and moved to Aspen Grove shortly after. It’s one of the only places I’ve lived where I feel like I can be myself without being judged or scrutinized for being different.

For the first time in my life, I think I’ve found a place I could settle down.

The glow of the streetlights illuminates my walk home. As I approach Dylan’s house, Johanna’s red 4Runner turns onto the street and pulls into his driveway. She steps out of the vehicle and waves at me as she circles the car to help Lola out of the backseat.

The front door of the house swings open, and Dylan steps onto the front porch, dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt with the top button undone. With his shirtsleeves rolled up, his muscular forearms are on full display. His hair is tousled, as if he’s run his hand through it all day. I focus my gaze forward and keep walking, not wanting him to lecture me for gawking, but I don’t get far.

“What are you doing?” he shouts from the porch. A stern look crosses his face, his eyes darkened with concern.

When I turn back, he’s marching down the driveway, heading straight for me.

Great, what have I done now?

I had hoped we’d be on better terms after yesterday.

He stops in front of me and gives me a disapproving stare. “You shouldn’t be out this late by yourself.”

“I had to go to the grocery store.” A blush spreads across my cheeks while I rearrange the bags in my hand. I’m perplexed by the protective vibes rolling off of Dylan and how I’m finding him more attractive because of it.

“Why are you out so late?” I retort.

His brow shoots up in a challenge. “I’m not the one wandering around alone at night,” he says incredulously.

“I wasn’t wandering. I ran errands in town and got groceries on my way home.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not safe for you to be out after dark, and there’s no way that thing is keeping you warm in this weather.” He motions to my puffer coat. “You’re beautiful in whatever you wear, so a few extra layers won’t do you any harm, if you’re concerned about how you look.”

I gaze up at him, blinking in confusion. Did Dylan Stafford just call me beautiful?

I refuse to admit that he’s right however, about how cold I am, considering he’s scolding me like a child.

“Yes, Dad,” I mock loudly.

I startle when Lola erupts into a fit of giggles, and I catch Johanna out of the corner of my eye, attempting to contain her amusement. I forgot they were out here with us.

“I mean it, Marlow.” Dylan keeps his voice low as he takes a step closer. “We might live in a small town, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who would take advantage of you walking alone at night. You need to be more cautious.”

“Why, Dylan, it almost sounds like you’re worried about me.” I bat my eyelashes.

He opens his mouth to respond, but Lola runs over, tugging on my coat.

“Hey, Marlow.” She beams up at me.

“Hi, Lola.” I lean down to give her a side hug.

“What have I told you about interrupting?” Dylan asks her.

“Not to do it,” she grumbles.

“Exactly. Marlow and I were in the middle of talking about something important.”

“Are you asking her to be my new nanny?” Her eyes are filled with hope.

A lump forms in my throat.

Dylan runs his hand across his chiseled jaw and kneels in front of her. “Ladybug, we’ve talked about this,” he says in a gentle tone. “Marlow already has a job.”

She’s asked him more than once if I could watch her? My heart warms from the sweetness.

“But Daddy, what if she wants two jobs? Why can’t we ask her?” Lola pleads.

“Because I don’t—”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Johanna interjects, coming to stand next to me. “Marlow, I’m not sure if Dylan told you that Kendra quit or that he can’t find a replacement.” She ignores Dylan’s glacial stare as she speaks. “Is there any chance you’d consider watching Lola on weekday mornings and occasionally in the afternoon? Dylan would be happy to pay you a premium wage,” she says confidently. “I can’t think of a better person for the job, and Lola is so fond of you. We both are.”

I’ve already contemplated offering to help at least a dozen times since I found out that Kendra quit. It would mean I’d have to work longer hours to finish my collection for the art show on time, but it’s a sacrifice I’d be willing to make for Lola’s sake. The fact that Dylan is opposed to the idea is the cherry on top.

Dylan stands up. “Mom, I don’t think—”

“I’d love to be Lola’s nanny,” I interrupt him. “I have a flexible schedule, and my mornings are free, so it works out perfectly. Besides, who could refuse when Dylan’s willing to pay a premium?” I can’t help taunting him.

I flash him a broad grin, my eyes bright with amusement, a stark contrast to his dark, brooding glare.

I’m not offering because of the money. I’ll have to buy Lola a giant unicorn stuffed animal or hire a petting zoo in the summer with the money I earn. I’m sure Dylan would love that.

He arches a brow at my response. “You would?”

“Sure, I can’t think of anyone who could say no to spending their mornings with the cutest six-year-old in Aspen Grove.” I grin at Lola who’s practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.

“Do you have any experience with kids?” Dylan asks and I go with the truth.

“Honestly, not really,” I shrug. “I was an only child. There weren’t many young families in our neighborhood, so I never babysat or anything like that.” I hold my hand out before he can interrupt. “But I take care of Waffles, and I’d like to think I do a great job.”

Dylan looks less than amused. “Did you just compare taking care of your dog to watching my kid? An undisciplined dog, might I add.”

I huff in annoyance. “Is your opinion of me so low that you seriously doubt my ability to look after your daughter for a few hours each morning? Lola means a lot to me, and I would never do anything to jeopardize her safety. You should know that by now.”

Evidently, I said something right because he visibly relaxes, even if only a little.

Johanna silently watches our exchange with a bemused expression.

“Daddy, please say Marlow can be my new nanny, pretty please?” Lola implores.

“Yeah, Dylan, pretty please,” I add with a smirk.

“This is going to end in a disaster,” he mutters under his breath. “Fine. But it’s only temporary until the agency can find a long-term solution, got it?”

“Got it,” Lola and I say in unison.

I’ll just have to prove that I’m as capable as any professional nanny. Lola already likes me, so at least I have one thing going for me.

“And Waffles stays at your place. I don’t want him destroying my house while I’m at work,” Dylan says.

Lola frowns but doesn’t argue.

“That’s fine,” I agree.

“Can you start in the morning?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, thank you, Daddy.” Lola throws her arms around Dylan’s waist. “I’m so excited I could burst.”

Her enthusiasm means everything.

Johanna leans in to whisper in my ear. “Don’t worry, Marlow. Once Dylan sees how wonderful you are with Lola, he’ll be begging you to stay.”

I ignore the nagging suspicion that she’s not talking about me being Lola’s nanny.