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

“I WISH WAFFLES COULD HAVE spent the morning with us.” Lola sighs, glancing at my house as we pass by it on our way to school. “He looks so sad.”

Waffles is standing in my art studio with his nose pressed against the window, gazing down at us. I can almost hear him whining from here.

“Does Kendra have a pet?” I ask.

“Yeah, her cat, Mr. Whiskers.” Lola giggles at the mention of his name. “She showed me lots of pictures.”

“Did she ever bring Mr. Whiskers with her to your house?”

Lola shakes her head. “Daddy doesn’t allow pets in the house.”

“Do you think he would have been happy if I brought Waffles over when he asked me not to?”

“No, he’d be mad.”

“Exactly.”

The last time Waffles was in Dylan’s house, he was uninvited, resulting in a big mess, and I’d prefer to avoid a similar situation in the future. Dylan’s already upset at me for giving Lola cereal for breakfast, and the last thing I need is another strike against me.

It took me a solid hour to read what I’m affectionately calling “The Manual.” I did take a snack break and nodded off on the couch twice. In my defense, Dylan’s sofa was exceptionally comfortable, and my reading material was more boring than a calculus textbook.

Did I mention the pages were single-spaced, and there weren’t even any pictures? I deserve a reward for making it through the whole thing. Thank goodness I had a pack of markers in my bag, so I could highlight the important sections that I may want to reference later.

Once I finished my required reading, I explored while waiting for Lola to wake up, since I didn’t have much of a chance to look around the first time I was there.

I discovered that Dylan’s house is a utopia for organizational enthusiasts. A white monochromatic palette with gray accent pieces dominates the main floor. I assume he hired an interior decorator because the place has zero personality. Aside from Lola’s pictures neatly hung on the fridge, there isn’t any indication that a kid lives there.

The kitchen is impeccable—there’s not a single junk drawer. Every drawer has a liner and dividers to keep everything in its proper place. The large pantry, with meticulously organized shelves filled with labeled containers, bins, and baskets, belongs in a home décor magazine. I couldn’t help but notice almost every item was labeled as organic, and the snack choices were exclusively healthy options. There isn’t a single Cheez-It or Pop-Tart in the place, which is a travesty.

The living room is just as impeccable. A massive media center with custom doors conceals the TV, and books arranged by size and color fill the gray bookshelf in the corner. It’s worth noting that the white furniture doesn’t have a single stain in sight—trust me, I checked.

When I went into Lola’s room to wake her, I was relieved that it looked like a rainbow bomb had gone off. Her pink bedding is covered in unicorns, rainbows, and clouds. A hammock filled to the brim with colorful stuffed animals occupies one corner, and a massive shaggy rug is next to the bed. The one thing missing was color on the walls. I’m already plotting ways to convince Dylan to let me paint them.

Thankfully, we were out of the house by 8:08 a.m., or Dylan might have lost it.

When Lola and I get to the elementary school, I notice the other parents and staff are staring. I keep a low profile, but Aspen Grove is a small town, which means even the slightest deviation from the norm attracts attention. It’s easy to predict the inevitable gossip circulating after everyone sees me dropping Lola off at school.

I disregard the curious glances as I follow Lola to the brick building’s front entrance. When we reach the top step, she turns around to face me.

“Could you drop me off here?” she begs.

I hesitate for a moment, remembering the specific paragraph in The Manual—that I highlighted in purple—about having to escort Lola to her classroom.

“Your dad asked me to walk you to class, but I’m willing to compromise,” I say.

She scrunches her nose in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Compromise is when two people want different things and agree to meet in the middle. Make sense?”

“No.” She scratches her head.

I drum my fingers against my mouth as I think of a better way to explain.

“Your dad asked me to walk you to your classroom, but you’d rather I drop you off here.” I motion around us. “A compromise would be if I go inside the building but let you walk to your classroom alone. That way, I can watch you get there safely from a distance.”

“Oh… okay.” She smiles. “Can we do that?”

I nod. “Yeah, we can. Why don’t we go inside now?”

She hurries to the door, attempting to open it on her own. When it proves to be too heavy, she looks to me for help. I grab higher on the handle and provide the added force to open it.

Once we’re inside, Lola points to the left side of the hall. “My classroom is door number three on that side.”

“Thanks for showing me. I’ll wait right here.” I smile.

“Okay, thanks, Marlow.” She wraps her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. “I’m glad you’re my new nanny.”

“Me too, sweetheart.”

She releases me and heads in the direction of her classroom. “See you later, alligator,” she hollers over her shoulder.

“In a while, crocodile,” I yell back, ignoring the irritated looks from several parents loitering in the hallway.

“I’ve never heard that one before. I like it,” Lola exclaims as she skips down the hall. Her backpack bounces with every step.

Her teacher is standing by the door and welcomes her with a high five when she enters the classroom.

I send Dylan a text confirming that Lola has been dropped off at school.

I’d call this a successful first day on the job.

The bell’s chime announces my arrival as I enter Brush & Palette.

The air is filled with some of my favorite scents—wood, paint, and cinnamon. There’s an adorable string heart display near the front of the door, promoting an upcoming Valentine’s Day craft night.

“I’ll be right with you.” Quinn’s voice comes from the back of the shop. She must be knee-deep in restocking the new inventory from the big shipment she got in yesterday.

I browse the arts and crafts section and select a pack of washable paints. Johanna mentioned that I’ll occasionally watch Lola in the afternoons and I figure it’ll be fun for us to paint together. After I grab a bottle of mineral spirits from the aisle over, I pull out my phone and send an electronic payment for my purchases. I know how much Quinn dislikes having to reconcile cash payments.

I find my friend at the back of the store, teetering precariously on a ladder, stacking a new style of wooden picture frames. Her shoulder-length black hair frames her face in unruly waves, and she’s rocking her go-to work outfit: a blazer, dark-wash jeans, and a black smock over the top.

“One of these days you’re going to fall and break your neck, if you’re not careful,” I say playfully.

She glances over at me. “You’re late,” she scolds. “I’ve been waiting for a half hour.”

“I’m sorry, it’s been a hectic morning.” I move closer. “And I grabbed a couple of things when I came in.” I hold up the pack of paints and mineral spirts. “I already transferred money to your account.”

“That’s great, thank you.” She puts the last picture frame in place before climbing down the ladder to greet me.

Quinn Matthews was the first friend I made when I moved to Aspen Grove. We met while I was chasing Waffles down Main Street after he bolted after a squirrel during our morning walk. Quinn witnessed the entire spectacle and intercepted Waffles when he tried to run past her. I bought her coffee as a token of appreciation, and we’ve been friends since.

“So, when are you planning on telling me how your first morning as Lola Stafford’s nanny was?” she asks with a raised brow.

“It was—Hold on. How did you know about that?” I haven’t had the chance to update her about my new job since I only got the position last night.

“Sarah McCormick stopped by to grab some sketch pads for her daughter a few minutes ago. She mentioned that she saw you walking with Lola Stafford to school. According to her, you’re the talk of the town.”

“It seems everyone is interested in my whereabouts this morning.”

While I’ve heard the saying that news travels fast in a small town, I never experienced it firsthand until moving to Aspen Grove.

“What do you expect? Dylan’s one of the hottest commodities around. Ever since he started bringing Lola to the Mommy and Me craft class on Saturdays, attendance has tripled. I’m considering changing the name to Family Craft Corner because of him. Maybe more hot single dads will attend if I do.” Quinn wiggles her eyebrows.

I frown. “You never told me he brought Lola to one of your classes.”

“No, because Dylan Stafford is a topic of conversation you usually prefer to avoid.”

“We’re best friends. You’re supposed to tell me everything, even if you don’t think I want to hear it.”

“Marlow, are you jealous that Dylan is spending his Saturday afternoons with a roomful of women who openly lust after him?” She gives me a teasing grin. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t pay them any mind. He only has eyes for Lola.”

“Oh my gosh, will you stop?” I throw my hands over my face in embarrassment. “He’s totally not my type.”

That’s a lie. He looks like Clark Kent—he’s everyone’s type.

Quinn shoots me a skeptical look, as if she has a direct line to my thoughts. “That’s bullshit. He’s a hot single dad, rich, and incredibly intelligent. He’s the complete package, and dating him would be like winning the lottery,” she says, like it’s an undeniable truth.

“If he’s so perfect, why don’t you date him?”

“While I adore Lola, I’m not looking for that kind of responsibility. Dylan needs to be with someone who loves that little girl just as much as he does,” Quinn says.

I let out a sigh of relief. The idea of Dylan with someone else makes me queasy, but I quickly shake it off.

“Are we going over to Brew Haven or what?” I ask, changing the subject. “Andi texted me on the way over and said she can’t get away from work, so it’s just you and me today.”

I put the paints and mineral spirits I bought in my floral satchel.

“That gives us plenty of time for you to give me all the dirty details on how this morning went.” Quinn has a mischievous glint in her eye.

I roll my eyes. “Seriously, will you stop?”

My phone rings in my pocket.

When I check to see who it is, I don’t recognize the number, but I need to answer in case it has to do with Lola.

“Hey, I have to get this,” I tell Quinn.

“No problem.” She picks up the box next to the ladder. “I’m going to put the rest of this inventory in the storage room, and then we can lock it up.”

I give her a thumbs up and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Marlow, this is Johanna Stafford, Dylan’s mother. I’m so sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you could pick up Lola from school today?” I hear a car engine in the background. “Mike and I have dentist appointments this afternoon that I forgot about, and we won’t be finished in time to pick up Lola.”

“I’d be happy to,” I say, moving to the front of the store.

“Oh, that’s wonderful news. Thank you so much,” she exclaims. “I can stop at your place once I’m finished with my appointment.”

“Lola’s welcome to hang out with me and Waffles until Dylan gets home tonight. As long as that’s okay with you and Dylan, of course.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, Lola will be ecstatic. I’ll call the school to tell them you’re picking her up. Thanks again.”

“Anytime.”

I put my phone back in my pocket just as Quinn comes to the front of the store.

“Who was that?”

“Johanna Stafford. She asked if I could pick Lola up from school and watch her until Dylan gets home from work.”

Quinn smirks. “And so it begins.”

I give her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. “It’s nothing important. Let’s go. I’m in desperate need of a caffeine fix.” She flips the sign on the door to CLOSED.

As I follow her down the street toward the coffee shop, I’m left wondering what she was going to say.