Runaway Love: A Single Dad Nanny Small Town Romance (Cherry Tree Harbor Book 1)

I’D ENTERED the living room just in time to see the crazy—and crazy beautiful—woman in a wedding gown jump off the couch and perform some sort of martial arts move in which her foot went flying toward the ceiling.

Honestly, it was fucking impressive. You had to be pretty damn flexible to get your leg to do that.

I shoved all thoughts of her looks and agility aside—this woman was clearly nuts, and there was no way in hell I was hiring her to live here and watch my children. Had Mabel lost her mind?

Actually, I already knew the answer to that, since she’d just spent several minutes upstairs trying to convince me to give this woman a chance.

“Mabel, you can’t be serious,” I’d argued. “That woman is not right in the head. She’s wearing a wedding gown!”

“I know. Ari told me all about it,” Mabel said. “She was supposed to get married to some wealthy big shot today, and right before the ceremony she found out he was cheating on her. So she left him at the altar.”

“And went for a burger at Moe’s?” I shook my head, folding my arms across my chest. “This doesn’t add up.”

“Listen, you might be hungry too if you just defended your honor the way she did. This asshole controlled her life. Ari said it sounds like he was a real manipulative bastard who took away her old friends, made her delete all her social media accounts, and he paid for everything, so she was completely dependent on him.”

“Why didn’t she just leave?”

“Spoken like a true man.” Indignant, Mabel’s hands flew up. “I don’t know! You know how those rich jerks are—so entitled, they treat everyone like dirt, bossing people around because they think everyone is beneath them. You’re around that long enough, you start to believe it too.”

I clenched my jaw. I knew exactly how those guys were, I’d worked on their summer homes all my life. But even if I understood how this girl had been manipulated, that didn’t make her my responsibility. “Look, if that’s true, I feel bad for her. But it’s not my problem. And I don’t appreciate you ambushing me like this.”

“You’re the one who told me to find a replacement nanny! Can’t you just give her a chance? I felt an instant connection with her.”

“Why, does she love Hamilton or something?”

Mabel’s angry expression told me I’d hit the mark. “You would love it too, if you took the time to see it!”

“I’m busy, Mabel. I don’t have time for shows, and I don’t have time for this.” I turned to go, and she whacked my shoulder with the spatula.

“You won’t have time for anything if you don’t hire a new nanny!”

I exhaled, feeling a painful stab between my shoulder blades. I must have pulled a muscle today. “Does she have any childcare experience?”

“Um. She might.”

“You didn’t ask her?”

My sister fidgeted. “We talked about other things.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Mabel, this is ridiculous. This woman could be a serial killer.”

“She’s not.” Mabel tugged my arm down and pointed her spatula at me. “Stop being so judgmental. She’s here, she needs a job, and you need a nanny, so we might as well interview her. Maybe you’ll like her.”

“I doubt it.”

“Then do it as a favor to me,” she begged. “I can’t go off to my dig feeling all guilty and ashamed. I won’t do my best work, and then I’ll blow my chances of getting into a good PhD program, and my life will have been one big waste. Do you really want that weight on your shoulders?”

I pinned her with my best older brother stare and held up one hand, fingers spread. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m giving this. I’ve got shit to do tonight.”

“Five minutes,” she agreed. Then her eyes lit up with mischief. “She’s pretty, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t notice,” I lied.

“Well, she is. So try to be charming.”

In the blink of an eye, I’d grabbed Mabel by the wrist and twisted her into a headlock—a classic big brother move I usually reserved for my male siblings since Mabel was almost ten years younger and much smaller, but I wasn’t above employing it when she was really annoying me. “Twerp, I am all fucking charm.”

“Ha!” She struggled to escape and couldn’t. “You left charming behind a long time ago, along with easygoing, relaxed, and fun!”

“It’s like you forgot you just asked me for a favor.” I tightened my grip playfully and gave her skull a knuckle rub with my other hand.

Laughing, Mabel clawed at my forearm with one hand and slapped my legs with the spatula. “If you had a girlfriend, you wouldn’t be so uptight. Now let me go! You smell like sweat!”

I loosened my grip, and she took off down the stairs, leaving me no choice but to follow her. On my way, I glanced at my shirt and noticed the pit stains. Shit. Should I change?

Fuck it, I decided, and kept moving. Maybe the girl was pretty, and okay, my pulse did pick up a little when I saw her standing there on my porch, and fine, I felt sorry for her if she’d been treated the way Mabel had described, but I didn’t need to impress her. If she didn’t like the way I smelled, she could leave. I didn’t need a girlfriend, I needed a nanny.

What I appeared to have in my living room was a circus act.

“Wow,” my sister said. “Can you teach me that move?”

The girl—Veronica—whirled around, her cheeks turning red. “Oh gosh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I was just—uh—”

“She was showing us what she does to bullies,” Adelaide said.

“Bullies?” I questioned.

“Yes. See, she was supposed to get married to this man who wasn’t nice to her, so she kicked him in the face,” my daughter explained.

“Bam!” Owen added, shooting his bare foot out and catching the leg of an end table. He grabbed his toes and hopped around in pain.

Veronica held up her palms. “But I promise you, that is not how I usually behave in a church. Or anywhere else. I don’t believe in violence. I just sort of . . . snapped.” As if she realized how that might sound, she quickly went on. “But I don’t have a bad temper or anything. I’m actually very easygoing.”

“She makes birthday cake with sprinkles,” Owen said.

Adelaide nodded. “And she’s going to make us each one for our birthday, so we don’t have to share.”

“Your birthdays aren’t until February,” I reminded them. “You two go up to your rooms please.” I pointed toward the stairs and gave them a look that said I meant business.

They made eye contact with each other and had one of those twin conversations with their minds, during which they must have considered refusing to follow orders but decided it wouldn’t be worth it. Defeated, they trudged toward the stairs.

Mabel cleared her throat. “So tell us about yourself, Veronica.”

“Well, I grew up in New Jersey. I moved to New York as soon as I could save up the money, and I got my dream job as a Radio City Rockette. During the off-season, I waitressed or bartended.”

“So you’ve got hospitality experience,” said Mabel. “And a good work ethic.”

“I learned it from my mom.” Veronica’s full lips curved into a proud smile. “She worked harder than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“Do you have any childcare experience?” I asked, dismayed to find myself staring at her mouth. It was wide and lush and looked like a good time.

“Not really,” she said reluctantly.

“Babysitting when you were younger?” Mabel prompted. “Maybe younger siblings or cousins?”

Veronica shook her head. “I was an only child and didn’t grow up around any other family. It was just me and my mom. But I taught dance to kids.” She lifted her bare shoulders. “Does that count?”

“Sure, it does!” Mabel sounded excited, but I wasn’t in the market for a dance instructor.

“How about references?” I asked.

Veronica thought for a moment, then tugged up the strapless dress. “I don’t really have any outside the dance world. I could try to track down some of the bar managers I worked for. They would tell you I’m honest, I’m a team player, and I always show up on time.”

“Punctuality is so important,” Mabel enthused.

“Do you have a valid driver’s license?” I asked.

“Yes!” Veronica brightened up. “I definitely have a valid driver’s license.” Hurrying over to the couch, she pulled a wallet from her bag and handed her license to me as if I’d carded her.

I took it from her and studied it, starting with the photo. She was much prettier in person, but maybe that was because she looked sort of sad and serious in this picture. No smile, no light in her eyes, and her complexion was pale, almost gray. Her full name was Veronica Marie Sutton, and according to the birth date listed, she was twenty-nine years old. The issuing state was Illinois.

“I thought you lived in New York.”

“I moved to Chicago to live with my fiancé.”

“Did you have a job in Chicago?” I asked, handing her license back.

She hesitated, fidgeting with the card, flicking one edge with her fingernail. “Yes and no. My fiancé put me on the board of some charities his family supports, so I did some fundraising and special events.”

“So you were in philanthropy.” Mabel made it sound fancy.

“You could say that.”

“And how did you end up in Cherry Tree Harbor?” I asked.

“My fiancé—ex-fiancé’s—family owns a home here, and this is where they always have weddings.”

“What’s the family?”

“Vanderhoof.”

I nodded. I’d heard of them. Rich family that liked to throw their name and their opinions around.

“But I’m afraid if you ask them for a reference, it will not present me in a very positive light,” Veronica said quietly. “Needless to say, Neil and I did not end on good terms.”

“So you have a driver’s license,” Mabel said, briskly moving on. “How about a car?”

“I had one.” Veronica hesitated. “I might still have it. I’m just not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Even Mabel’s voice was wavering now.

“Well, technically it probably belongs to Neil. He bought it for me.”

“How about cooking skills?” Mabel threw out the question, and I saw her crossing her fingers at her side. “Can you make any meals?”

“Besides fried bologna sandwiches?” Veronica laughed nervously. “Not too many.”

“So you don’t have any experience, you don’t have a car, you can’t cook, and you don’t have any references,” I said, mostly for Mabel’s benefit.

“No,” Veronica said. “I mean, yes. All that is true.” Then she pressed her shoulders back and straightened her spine. “Other things I don’t have include a college degree, a trust fund, a rich dad—or any dad at all—and currently, I am probably homeless. All in all, I realize I’m not an ideal candidate for any job right now. But.” She lifted her chin. “I do have grit. And resilience. And self-respect—qualities that I think are important to teach kids. I’m creative and fun. I can turn anything into a game. Maybe I’ve never been a nanny before, but I like kids, I’m responsible, and I know how to memorize a routine. Bonus—I give really good hugs.”

Her blue eyes pinned me with a stare, and I had to admit, her words were persuasive. Her delivery was confident. She truly believed she could do this job.

But I wasn’t convinced. I couldn’t trust my kids to a stranger—I just couldn’t. And I didn’t want to live with one.

Especially not this one, whose eyes and mouth and bare shoulders were doing things to my insides I wasn’t comfortable with.

“I’m sorry,” I said shortly. “But it’s not going to work out.”

And before either of them could argue with me, I strode through the kitchen and out the back door, and I didn’t stop moving until I got inside my garage workshop, where I picked up a piece of sandpaper and started rubbing an old floor plank, just because it was the closest thing at hand.

It was fine, I told myself. It would be the usual kind of summer, and I loved those. I’d take the kids camping and hiking and swimming. We’d visit Mackinac Island and Sleeping Bear Dunes. We could go fishing and water-skiing and tubing off Xander’s boat.

I paused, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm.

Maybe when the kids went out to stay with Sansa in July, I’d take a little road trip myself. I’d sold my bike after the twins were born, but maybe I could rent one. If I stayed in California, I could ride the Pacific Coast Highway. Or go somewhere new—the Badlands in South Dakota, or Independence Pass in Colorado. Maybe that’s what I needed, open road and freedom. Solitude. Time off. Time out. Maybe this tension in my neck and back and shoulders would ease up.

Hell, maybe I’d meet a cute bartender in some roadside dive, somebody with long legs, blond hair, baby blue eyes, and a mouth that curved like the highway around the mountains. Maybe she’d take a ride with me and wrap her body around mine, the engine thrumming between our legs. Maybe later, she’d ride more than just my bike. Lost in the fantasy, I stopped sanding for a moment and relished the feeling of blood rushing to my crotch, my cock surging to life. I closed my eyes and imagined my hands on her skin, her breath in my ear, the taste of her tongue as she rocked her hips over mine.

But when I realized I was dream-fucking the potential nanny I’d just rejected, I tossed the sandpaper aside and went over to the small fridge at the back of the garage. Pulling it open, I grabbed a beer, pried the cap off, and tipped it up. The cold, crisp IPA went down fast, putting out the fire. I wandered out the open garage door and sat down in one of the four Adirondack chairs that circled a small fire pit on the stone patio behind the house.

The windows in the house were open, and through the screens I heard the usual dinner routine begin—Mabel shouting for the kids that it was ready, telling them to wash their hands. Adelaide yelling back “Okay!” and Owen protesting that he’d just washed them a little bit ago because he’d gone to the bathroom. The clatter of plates and forks. The clunk of pans on the stove. The argument over who got their milk in the giant plastic cup I’d won last year at the summer carnival. Owen claimed it was his night for the cup, but Adelaide insisted that Owen had traded it for her cookie at lunch today.

“You didn’t even want that cookie!” Owen shouted.

“Well, I always want the cup,” Adelaide said triumphantly. “So it was a good trade.”

“Enough!” Mabel’s tone was sharp. “I’ve got a million things to do and breaking up silly fights isn’t one of them. Sit down and eat.”

I was about to go in and rescue my sister when the back door opened, and she came out. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey.” She dropped into the chair next to mine. “Nice out here.”

“At least until they start fighting again.”

She laughed. “If you’d been talented enough to win a second cup at that ring toss game, they wouldn’t have a problem.”

“I was going to offer you a beer, but now you can just fuck off.” I took another sip.

She smiled and crisscrossed her legs, rubbing her hands along the chair arms. “What are you going to do without a nanny?”

“I’ll manage.”

“How?”

“I managed you guys, didn’t I? And you were the worst of them.”

Her lips tipped up. “Yeah?”

“Smart-mouthed little know-it-all with too much sass.”

“I needed sass with four older brothers. How else was I gonna be heard?” She shrugged. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

I harrumphed and finished off my beer. “And now a girl’s gotta dig, huh?”

“A girl’s gotta dig.” She paused. “But speaking of sass . . .”

“No.”

“Austin, you didn’t even give her a chance.”

“Yes, I did, and the answer is no.” I got up and went into the garage to get another beer, and Mabel followed me.

“The kids really liked her.”

“They’d like anybody who promised them two birthday cakes.”

“I really liked her.”

I took out a beer and pointed the top at her. “You’re leaving. You don’t get a say.”

“Ari said everyone at Moe’s adored her, even grumpy Larry.”

“Larry likes a pretty face.”

“And Willene Fleck.”

“My old teacher? She hates me. She’d probably send me a bad nanny on purpose.” I uncapped the bottle and took a drink.

“Ari doesn’t hate you.”

“Ari is one degree of separation from being you. She can’t be trusted.”

Mabel sighed and stuck her hands on her hips. “You’re impossible. You did not give her a fair shake.”

“I gave her as fair a shake as I’d give anybody,” I argued.

“She’s jobless and homeless now!”

I rolled my eyes. “A girl like that will be just fine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means any woman who’s that attractive will have no trouble getting hired somewhere she’s qualified,” I said.

Mabel gave me a sly smile. “So you were attracted to her.”

“I didn’t say I was attracted to her, I said she was attractive. There’s a difference.” Although I was struggling to remember what it was at the moment.

“Of course.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, now it makes more sense.”

Irritated, I rolled my neck and rubbed at my sore trapezius. “What makes more sense?”

“Your problem with her.”

“Jesus Christ, Mabel, I don’t have a problem with her!”

“Your problem,” she went on in that infuriatingly calm tone, “is that you’re afraid of her.”

“Afraid of who?” Xander strolled into the garage with a saw he’d borrowed from me a few days ago. He was a slightly younger, slightly taller version of me, same dark hair and eyes, although his beard was thicker. His biceps were too, but I didn’t like talking about that.

“This woman we interviewed today to replace me as the nanny this summer,” Mabel said.

“Why’s he afraid of her?” Xander set down the saw, went to the fridge, and helped himself to a beer.

“Because she’s pretty.”

“Ah.” Xander nodded and he uncapped his beer. “That sounds about right. Nothing sets Austin on edge like a beautiful woman.”

“Will you two shut up?” I could feel my blood pressure rising. “I’m not afraid of beautiful women.”

“Really? When’s the last time you went on a date?” Xander pretended to think. “Was it high school?”

“Look, just because I’m not out every night with a different girl doesn’t mean I’m afraid of them. It means I’m busy. And who said you could drink my beer?”

“Why don’t you come over here and try to take it away from me?” he taunted, wagging the bottle at me like a red cape.

I thought about it for a second, but even though Xander was younger by one year, he was taller and stronger, and his time in Special Ops had taught him fighting tactics that gave him an unfair advantage. As much as I hated to admit it, we were no longer evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat. It didn’t always stop me from messing with him, but right this second, I wasn’t sure I had it in me.

Thankfully, I was saved by Adelaide, who ran into the garage out of breath. “She’s back!”

“Who’s back?” I asked.

“The bride lady. She’s at the front door.”

I looked at Mabel, who held up her hands, like it wasn’t her fault.

“Bride lady?” Xander looked back and forth from Mabel to me.

“The pretty nanny he rejected,” said Mabel. “She was supposed to get married today, but she found out he was cheating on her, so she left the jerk at the altar.”

“But first she kicked him in the face!” Adelaide shouted, repeating Veronica’s spin-and-kick move, but a lot less gracefully. “Hi-yah!”

“No shit.” Xander looked impressed.

“I’ll handle this.” I strode out of the garage, but of course, Xander followed me. “I said, I’ll handle this,” I told him over my shoulder.

“But I want to see the pretty bride lady,” Xander said, pausing only to scoop Adelaide under his arm and carry her, giggling, back to the house.

“I’m coming too,” Mabel said, running ahead of me and reaching the back door first.

Right then, I envied Veronica being an only child.