Page 13 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar (Uncle Uzzi’s Date to Mate #3)

Tamare

I t’s him.

My D. My new boss?

Yeah. Same effing person.

He’s still hot. Still makes my breath catch like I forgot how lungs work.

And he has a son.

A beautiful boy with soft curls, bright eyes, and a mischievous grin that could charm the moon right out of the sky.

I think I might be in love with the kid already.

And maybe his dad, too.

I follow them down the hall like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life.

Because this? This cannot be mine.

There’s Alex— grinning and skipping beside me like we’ve known each other for ages.

“I know how to swim, but this is so I can join the swim team,” he says, explaining what we’re doing today and the why of it as only a small boy can do.

Then there’s D, er , Dane.

His massive frame leading the way with easy confidence, muscles flexing beneath his perfectly snug t-shirt like that body hasn’t haunted my dreams all night.

Correction: it has.

In every filthy, delicious detail.

And here I am, pretending like I didn’t ride that man into oblivion less than forty-eight hours ago.

What the heck is my life?

The hallway is surprisingly cozy.

Family photos— well, mostly of Alex, a few with Dane’s broody smirk —line the walls alongside adorable kid art.

Crayon masterpieces.

Tiny handprints.

A wonky macaroni frame.

It’s homey.

Lived-in.

Sweet.

And suddenly, my chest aches a little.

This is what I’ve always wanted.

Not just a job. Not just a paycheck.

But this.

A family. A purpose. A place.

But it isn’t mine. And I have to remember that.

“This’ll be your room,” Dane says, pushing open a door and stepping aside.

“Fresh linens, stocked closet, and a small desk in the corner in case you need to study or whatever.”

He clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck in that hot boy move that makes his biceps bulge, practically shredding his sleeve.

“You okay?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. It’s, I mean, your place is really nice.”

It’s embarrassing because I’ve been here before, but of course, I didn’t see any of this.

Even more, I mean it.

The place is great.

It’s bigger than I expected, soft colors and clean space.

A little basket of toiletries waits on the dresser like someone thought of everything.

There’s even a small window seat with cushions.

“I had someone come in yesterday to freshen things up,” he says, not meeting my eyes.

I have to tell myself to calm down. That this wasn’t for me . Because he didn’t know the nanny was me until he opened the door.

Still, it’s nice. And I can’t help but swoon a little.

“Tamare,” he begins, but before he can say anything more, Alex bursts in like a wrecking ball.

“Daaaaad! Is it time yet?”

“Almost, buddy,” Dane says, then looks at me.

“Think you’re up for your first official task?”

I raise a brow. “Throwing myself to the wolves on day one? Bring it.”

He laughs—God, it’s low and sexy and does terrible things to my insides.

“Swim lessons. Downtown. His bag’s by the door. I’ve hired a driver for you during the day, just until you get settled. Then you can use the car whenever you like. I’m texting you the app link.”

“Oh. Okay.” I blink, trying to reboot my brain. “So, hired? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he says, pausing at the door.

And then he does it— looks at me .

Not professionally. Not like a boss.

But like him.

The man I met that night at the park.

The man who kissed me like I was magic.

“Thanks for being here, Tamare,” he says softly.

It’s just five words.

But somehow, in his voice, they feel like a seismic event.

Anyone else feel that Earthquake?

They shiver down my spine and settle somewhere behind my ribs where my heart forgets how to beat properly.

Before I can respond —before I can combust —he’s gone.

Just like that. Out the door with all his smooth, broody boss energy, leaving me alone in the prettiest room I’ve had to myself in, well, longer than I can honestly remember.

The bed is big and freshly made, there’s a bay window with seat cushions, and—are those fairy lights around the mirror? Who does that for a nanny’s room?

I drop my suitcase gently and stare around, suddenly overwhelmed.

How the hell am I supposed to survive this trial period without falling harder for a man I shouldn’t want?

Especially not when he can just turn it off like flipping a switch.

One second, he’s looking at me like I’m made of dreams and cinnamon sugar, like he could devour me whole, and the next?

Bam. All business. Blank face activated.

Zero evidence of the man who made me forget my name and loved on me for an entire night.

And is it wrong that I kind of want him to feel a little wrecked too?

That I like it when he calls me Pretty Girl more than when he says my actual name?

Ugh. I need to get a grip.

A strong, two-handed, industrial-grade grip on my emotions.

This is a job.

Not a hookup.

Not a fairytale.

He was very clear about that in his ad.

So yeah. I’m going to act professionally.

No swooning.

No wistful sighs.

No mental replays of what happened that night while he’s just down the hall.

Right.

First things first.

Alex. He’s the reason I’m here.

“You ready, Alex?” I call out.

The little whirlwind appears at my doorway with his swim bag on his back, grinning wide enough to split his face.

“Yep! Got my goggles and everything!”

“Great. Let’s roll, champ.”

“Bye, Dad!” he yells over his shoulder as I follow him toward the front door.

Dane steps into the hallway, mug of coffee in one hand, sleeves rolled up.

“See you both later,” he says, casual and smooth— but his eyes linger a little too long on mine.

“Oh, um, will you be here?” I ask and instantly wish I hadn’t.

“I do live here,” he says with a grin.

“Duh. I just thought you work late, um, that is,” I say, trying to remove my foot from my mouth.

“I do. More than I like lately, but I work from home,” he says with a small smile, nodding toward a door down the hall.

“My office is just there. I’m a lawyer, but I’m also building a startup—an app, actually. It’s legal advice for supernatur—uh, I mean, for, uh, underserved communities .”

He fumbles. Just a little. And I blink at the weird pause, filing it away.

“We can talk about it later, if you like?” he adds.

“Sure,” I murmur, turning quickly before I do something incredibly unprofessional.

Like kiss him goodbye.

Yes, please.

No! Bad girl!

Ooh maybe he can call me that later—dear God, what is wrong with me?

Eeep!

STOP!

Okay, ground rules. I clearly need them.

First, I’m here to nanny, not fall for the hot single dad with secrets in his eyes and a voice that makes my knees weak.

Second, that’s all. Really .

Do not fall for the boss. Period.

Totally fine.

I’ve got this.

Probably.

Maybe.