Falling for the Babysitter

By: Penny Wylder

“You’re blind, brother. That girl wants you,” Sam says.

“There’s no way a girl that young and beautiful is going to want an old single dad like me. She could have any man she wants.”

My breath stops. How can he not see how incredibly hot he is? Every woman in the neighborhood wanted him when he lived here. Him being a single dad doesn’t make a bit of difference. Whenever my mom’s book club would come to the house for their Thursday night meet-ups, it was more like the Deacon fan club. Ten minutes were spent talking about whatever book they were reading at the time and the other fifty minutes were spent talking about his ass. I used to sit at the top of the stairs, rolling my eyes at all the sad housewives. It’s been a few years since then, but he hasn’t changed much in looks. If anything he’s gotten better looking with age. He’s still as incredibly sexy as ever.

And he thinks I’m beautiful. I was afraid he’d still think of me as a child—if he even thought about me at all.

The brothers continue to argue. Sam begs him not to hire me. He thinks I’m trouble and that I’m just like Deacon’s ex-wife. What an ass. How could I not be incredibly offended by the things he’s saying? He doesn’t know me. I’ve never had a conversation with him. We’ve never even said ‘hi’ to each other in passing, so where does he get off saying I’m trouble? I would never leave Deacon and my kid to go off and party. I hardly ever party even though I’m eighteen and that’s what most eighteen-year olds do. That’s never been me. I’ve always been the responsible one in my group of friends. The one who always gets A’s, who always gets home before curfew, and I’m always true to my word. Deacon’s ex is a disgrace. How dare he compare me to her.

I take long, slow breaths to calm myself down. I want to storm out and slam the door behind me so that he knows I’ve heard what he said, but I know Deacon really needs a babysitter and I’m not about to bail.

I grab a towel off the top of the stack and go back to the stairs, making plenty of noise so that they can hear me. Sam walks down the stairs, glaring at me when he passes. I keep my expression neutral so I don’t show my loathing for him. This is his house after all and I’m not trying to make things difficult for Deacon. I don’t want to give Sam a real reason to kick me out and not let me come back.

I try to put a smile on my face when I look at Deacon, but I know it looks fake as hell. Deacon gives me an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry about my brother,” he says. “He worries about me.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Everything’s great.”

I bend down to clean up the juice mess.

“Here, let me do that,” Deacon says.

He bends down to help. When he reaches for the towel, our fingers touch and he leans back as if the feel of my skin has shocked him somehow. When I look up at him, his mouth is open and he’s staring right at my chest. Glancing down at my shirt, I realize it’s hanging wide open, the tops of my breasts spilling out of my bra, bared to him. My nipples are just barely hidden, but the pinks of my areolas are showing.

I hurry and sit back. I’m just glad Sam wasn’t here to see it or he would’ve said I did it on purpose.

Deacon stands and won’t make eye contact with me. The bulge in his pants is undeniable. He quickly covers it. I pretend not to notice. But I can’t help the stirring it causes between my legs. From the looks of it, he’s hung. Not that I’m an expert on size. I’ve never actually had sex with a man before. I’ve gone down on boyfriends in the past, but they weren’t nearly as big as Deacon looks.

“Do you want to meet Bailey?” he says, flushed.

“I’d love to,” I say.

We go into Bailey’s room and try to pretend nothing happened. I hear a car door slam. Looking out the window, I see Sam’s car speeding off. At least I don’t have to deal with him anymore.

Bailey is asleep in a playpen. The room is a makeshift nursery. It must’ve been Sam’s office before Deacon arrived. There’s a large desk and papers everywhere, books on rare birds and tax law.

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