If You Give a Single Dad a Nanny: a single dad, grumpy sunshine, small town romance
If You Give a Single Dad a Nanny: Chapter 9

IT WAS A LONG DAY at the office, made longer when my mom called to tell me that Marlow was picking up Lola from school today. Supposedly, my parents had dentist appointments that Mom forgot about, but I don’t buy it. She’s even more organized than I am. So the idea that she forgot about an appointment until the day of doesn’t add up. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Meetings consumed my entire afternoon, preventing me from checking in with Marlow as often as I’d have liked. She texted me when she picked up Lola from school and said they were going over to her house. I would have preferred they went back to my place, but I figured it was best not to push the issue.

When I pull into my driveway at 7:30 p.m., all the lights are off at my house. In stark contrast, Marlow’s place is brightly lit, and the faint sound of music is coming from the loft. She’s lucky the elderly lady who lives on the other side of her is hard of hearing, or she’d have a stack of noise complaints by now.

I head straight over to her place.

When my knock on the front door goes unanswered, I test the handle, a low growl escaping me when I find it unlocked.

Unbelievable.

First, Marlow strolls the streets of Aspen Grove late at night, and now this? It’s absolutely unacceptable. She needs to be more careful. I doubt she was this careless when living in the city. At least I hope that’s the case.

When I step inside, I nearly trip over a sneaker. The entryway is littered with dog toys, jackets, and shoes.

I peek inside the living room, not surprised that the space mirrors Marlow’s vibrant and chaotic personality. The walls are painted a salmon pink, and a massive, multi-colored geometric rug covers the floor. Several pieces of furniture are strategically situated in the room—including a mustard yellow couch, two blue paisley print chairs, and a vintage wooden coffee table.

I follow the sound of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” to the loft.

The door is wide open, giving me an unobstructed view of Lola, sprawled on the floor, finger painting. Waffles is sitting next to her, his head resting against her shoulder. Both are covered in splotches of purple and orange paint.

A smile tugs at my lips until I spot a plate nearby with the remnants of what look like corn dogs, Cheez-Its, and peanut butter.

Why is Marlow giving Lola junk food when I explicitly told her not to?

Marlow’s on the other end of the room, her attention on a large canvas propped up on an easel. As I step closer, I see she’s skillfully applying texture to a hydrangea. The flower is a mixture of white and various shades of purple. This isn’t what I imagined when she told me she was an artist.

While art isn’t my area of expertise, I still recognize an exceptional piece like Marlow’s flower, which practically leaps off the canvas. Her artistic ability is unmatched, and her style is truly remarkable. If I weren’t so wound up, I could stand here admiring her work all night and still find new elements to appreciate.

In typical Marlow fashion, she’s decked in her faded floral overalls, paired with a white long-sleeved shirt covered in pink hearts and red fuzzy socks.

“Daddy, you’re back.”

Lola’s enthusiastic squeal has me turning to catch her as she runs into my arms. I disregard the sticky purple paint that’s been transferred from her hands to my white shirt.

“I missed you, ladybug.” I place a kiss on her head.

“I missed you too. Waffles and I painted you a picture,” she says, holding out a piece of paper covered with dozens of orange and purple handprints, plus several orange paw prints.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to put it on the fridge at home. Why don’t you go down to the bathroom and wash the paint off your hands so we can go home? I’m just going to chat with Marlow for a minute.”

“I can do that,” she shouts over the music. “Come on, Waffles, let’s go get cleaned up.”

He follows her down the steps, leaving faded orange paw prints behind. It’s a good thing this house has wood floors or that would be a nightmare to clean up later.

Marlow still hasn’t acknowledged me, which frustrates me. She was supposed to be taking care of Lola, but apparently couldn’t be bothered enough to play with her. Sitting her down with paints and letting her have free rein is unacceptable.

I stride over to the speaker on the cluttered desk and switch it off, sighing in relief when I can hear myself think.

Marlow finally sets her palette knife on the ledge of the easel and turns around with a grin on her face. “Hey, you’re back. How was work?” she asks.

“Care to explain why you’re working on a project instead of taking care of my daughter?” I perch on the edge of the desk.

Her smile instantly turns to a frown. “Excuse me?”

I wave to the mess Lola and Waffles left behind. “You can’t leave a six-year-old unattended with paint. And in the future, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your music down while my daughter is in the room. You might not care about your eardrums, but I would prefer Lola not to have premature hearing loss.”

She flinches at my insult, keeping her hands clenched at her sides. “Anything else you want to add to your list of grievances?” Her voice is noticeably icy.

“Actually, yeah, there is. Want to tell me why my daughter had corn dogs and Cheez-Its for dinner when there are ten pages of healthy meal options in the binder that you supposedly read?” I use air quotes for emphasis.

Marlow briefly closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before she replies. “For the record, the paint is washable. I picked it up from Brush & Palette earlier today. This studio is meant for creating, and the mess that comes with that doesn’t bother me.” She keeps her voice even and calm. “I read your stupid binder, and all the dinner options in there take at least an hour to make. When Lola told me she was hungry, she was on the verge of a meltdown, and I wasn’t going to make her wait that long to eat. Plus, I’m not a good cook, so whatever I would have made probably wouldn’t have been edible.”

“What else were you complaining about?” She taps her finger against her mouth while she thinks. “Oh, yeah, the part where you think I neglected your daughter. Lola asked if she could paint you a surprise and didn’t want me to see it. I pretended I wasn’t paying attention, but I checked on her every few minutes. When you got here, I figured you’d want an uninterrupted moment alone with her.” By this point, fumes are practically coming out of Marlow’s ears. “I’ve told you; I’d never do anything to put Lola in harm’s way. This arrangement won’t work if you keep doubting my ability, temporary or not.”

I stand up and close the distance between us. “You forgot to explain why the music was so loud.” My throat is dry, making it difficult to get the words out. I try to ignore the tightening in my chest at Marlow’s crestfallen expression, but there’s something jarring about seeing her so subdued.

She shakes her head. “No, I just didn’t want to admit that you were right about that,” she confesses with a downcast glance. “I’m sorry.”

God, I’m such an asshole.

When I got here, Lola’s excitement was palpable, and it’s clear that she had an amazing time. Despite my concerns, she’s safe and happier than I’ve ever seen her.

The reason for that is standing right in front of me. Marlow might be messy and chaotic, yet she has a way of connecting with my daughter like no one else can, and I took that for granted tonight.

“Look, I apo—”

I’m cut off when Waffles come running out of nowhere, tumbling into Marlow. I instinctively wrap my arms around her waist to keep her from falling, bringing her body flush with mine. She grabs hold of my shoulders to keep her balance, only a breath of air separating her breasts from pressing against my upper chest. Her scent tickles my nose—paint, citrus, rose, and something sweet.

A searing wave of warmth licks up my spine as her gaze moves from my Adams apple.. Her pupils are blown wide, and her breath catches, a clear sign she’s affected by our close proximity too. The last time we were this close, I didn’t take the chance to really look at her. I’m not making the same mistake again.

I take the moment to study her heart-shaped face. A rosy hue colors her cheeks, and she has a dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose. Her mouth is slightly parted, and she tilts her head back as she observes me in return. My favorite feature is her unique mismatched eyes.

She’s so goddamn beautiful.

My pulse quickens when I shift my focus to her pouty lips, and an unexpected notion crosses my mind, imagining what it would be like to kiss her. Without thinking, I wipe a smudge of purple paint off her cupid’s bow, and she shivers at my touch.

“You and that dog of yours are a whole lot of trouble,” I whisper.

“At least there’s never a dull moment with us around,” she murmurs.

I’m about to apologize for my outburst when we’re interrupted again.

“Daddy, my hands are all clean, see?” Lola comes running into the room, holding out her hands.

I release my grip on Marlow and step back, creating some much-needed distance between us. I have no idea what came over me, touching her like that, but it won’t be happening again.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I shift my focus to Lola, bending down to inspect her hands. Most of the paint is gone except for a couple of splotches between her fingers.

“You did a great job, ladybug.” I affectionately tap her on the nose. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Marlow and Waffles so we can go home? It’s late, and you’ve got to get ready for bed.”

“Will I get to see Marlow tomorrow?” she asks.

“Yeah, first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, goodie,” she exclaims, rushing over to drape her arms around Waffles. “I’ll see you soon, boy.”

Waffles licks her face, leaving a slobbery mark on her cheek. I wrinkle my nose as Lola wipes it off on her pant leg. Those clothes are going straight into the washer, and Lola is getting a bath as soon as we get home.

Lola hugs Marlow next. “See you in the morning.”

“See you soon,” Marlow says, avoiding looking at me.

“Come on, Lola, we have to go now.” I scoop her up in my arms and hightail it out of the loft, locking Marlow’s front door on our way out.

“Unicorns or rainbows tonight?” I hold out the two pairs of pajamas for Lola.

“Those.” She points to the set with rainbows.

“Excellent choice.” I hand them to her.

Once she’s changed into her pj’s, she jumps into bed, and climbs under the covers. I tuck her favorite stuffed animals around her and grab her copy of Madeline from the nightstand.

“Hey, Daddy?”

“Yeah, ladybug?” I sit on the side of her bed.

“Can we hang the picture Waffles and I made on the fridge like you promised?”

“Yeah, sure. I just need to get it from Marlow.” I was in such a hurry to get out of there that I totally forgot about Lola’s painting.

I shouldn’t have said those things to Marlow earlier. She didn’t deserve it.

She might not have done things the way I wanted her to, but Lola’s happiness matters most, and it’s obvious that spending time with Marlow makes her happy.

“Thanks, Daddy. You can leave now,” Lola says quickly.

“Um, ladybug? We haven’t read Madeline yet.” I hold up the book to show I’m ready to start.

“I’d rather go to sleep.” She lies down on her pillow, snuggling deeper into her blankets.

That’s odd, because she usually rushes through her bedtime routine so we can read, and when I finish, she begs me to stay for just five more minutes.

I tilt my head. “What’s the real reason you want me to leave?”

“Marlow’s coming in the morning, and I hate waiting. If I go to sleep now, she’ll be here sooner.”

A lump forms in my throat. Lola never acted this way with Kendra, or anyone else for that matter.

“Makes sense.” I stand up and put the book on the nightstand. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“I won’t,” Lola assures me. “Goodnight, Daddy.” She turns to her side and closes her eyes.

I turn off her unicorn lamp on my way out and close the door behind me.

I linger in the hallway, pondering my predicament. My daughter is more content than I’ve seen her in a long time, and I can’t bear to be the one who takes that away.

There’s a soft knock on my front door precisely at 6:00 a.m. I swing it open to find Marlow on my porch, nervously fidgeting with her hands and wearing an apprehensive expression—a noticeable contrast from her usual cheerful and bubbly personality. I don’t like it.

“Is everything okay?” My voice is filled with concern.

She bites down on her lower lip. “Honestly, Dylan, I wasn’t sure you’d want me back after what you said last night,” she says softly. “I almost didn’t come, but couldn’t risk upsetting Lola.

Dammit, I should have called her after putting Lola to bed last night, but I wanted to apologize in person so she knew I was sincere.

“Can you come inside so we can talk?”

“Sure.” She moves past me into the entryway, removes her shoes, and puts them on the shoe rack. When she’s finished, she stands stiffly in the entryway.

“Listen, Marlow, I think I owe you an apology.”

She raises a brow. “You think?”

I suppress a smile, glad to see her cheeky demeanor is back.

“As you’ve noticed, I have specific preferences, especially concerning Lola. I want the best for her, and it’s hard for me not to have control over certain things.” I rub my hand along the back of my neck as I think carefully about my next words. “It doesn’t justify me taking out my frustrations on you last night. You did nothing wrong,” I say with assurance. “I should have explained how I was feeling instead of losing my temper the way I did. Lola enjoyed her time with you, and that’s all that matters.”

The nannies I’ve hired previously adhered to the instructions I outlined in the binder, and my parents have always been willing to adapt to my way of doing things when it came to Lola. So, it was a shock when I came home yesterday to find that Marlow had done it differently.

She wasn’t joking about reading the entire binder. She tabbed every section with the pink and yellow sticky notes I keep in the kitchen and highlighted important paragraphs in a rainbow of colors.

“Thank you for saying that,” Marlow says, her gaze fixed on me. “I admit I was wrong to go against your wishes. Instead of giving Lola that junk food, I should have found an alternative dinner option.” She nervously tucks her hair behind her ear. “When I dropped her off at school yesterday, she asked me what compromise meant. It got me thinking that you and I need to compromise on some things to make this arrangement work for Lola’s sake.”

She’s right. I only wish I had come up with a similar conclusion sooner.

“I’m listening,” I encourage her.

“It would be helpful if you made a list of quick and easy healthy dinner options for me to reference on the days I have Lola after school. While I agree Lola shouldn’t have sugar cereal and Cheez-Its every day, I’d like to be able to give her a special treat on occasion as long as that’s alright with you.

“You mentioned last night cooking isn’t your forte. Why don’t I make some premade options that can be kept in the fridge so all you have to do is warm them up? Would that work?”

Marlow smiles. “I’d appreciate it.”

“I can live with Lola having the occasional sugary snack as long as you tell me about it,” I say. “What else?”

“I shouldn’t have played my music so loud with Lola in the room, but she rather enjoyed the songs, so I have every intention of playing them for her when we’re together.”

“That’s fine. As long as the songs are age appropriate, and don’t have profanity.”

She lets out a throaty laugh. “I can assure you if Lola learns any more curse words, it’ll be because of your bad habits, not mine.”

“Touché.” A subtle smile plays on my lips. I wish I knew why I enjoyed bantering with Marlow so much. “I don’t mind the two of you spending time at your place in the afternoons. I only ask that if I’m running late, you bring Lola back here so her bedtime routine isn’t disrupted.”

“Yeah, okay. Look at us learning to compromise like adults,” she says playfully.

“Compromising, yes. Like adults?” I gesture to her vintage T-shirt with a rainbow on the front, similar to one I bought for Lola when we went back-to-school shopping last year. “I’m not sure you qualify, since I’m pretty sure you bought that in the children’s section.”

I can’t believe I said that.

I silently ridicule myself for putting my foot in my mouth, and I can’t help but notice the way the T-shirt hugs her breasts.

Marlow looks at me with amusement shining in her eyes. “Lola told me that wearing her favorite rainbow shirt makes her feel extra happy, and I couldn’t resist testing her theory when I found this one at the local thrift store.” She points to her shirt. “I think she’s right. It’s giving me an extra dose of happiness this morning despite having to deal with your mood swings. Maybe we should get one for you too.” She winks.

I’m about to tell her that’s never going to happen when my phone buzzes in my pocket. A reminder that I have a meeting I can’t be late for. “I have to go, but I’m working from home today, so text me if you need anything,” I say.

She gives a thumbs up. “Will do. Oh, and Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

“For the record, Lola told me that she loves Cheez-Its.” She smirks before disappearing into the living room.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.