Page 15 of The Live-In Temptation (Steele Brothers of Starlight Cove #2)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHLOE

Later that night, when I’d finished folding my third pile of hobbit-sized leggings and unicorn-covered tops, I was beginning to second-guess my life choices.

Not what had gotten me here—to Starlight Cove, being a nanny to a super-awesome four-year-old.

But here —in this house with her grumpy but obscenely hot dad.

Here , sitting on the couch this late while a reality show I absolutely knew better than to watch flickered on the TV and I’d just downed my second glass of wine.

My inhibitions were already fairly low, and, as a rule, adding alcohol to the mix wasn’t a great idea.

That went double when Xander was home.

God knew I didn’t need to run my mouth—or my hands—while he was around. Apparently, it didn’t matter if I was mad at him—I still wanted to jump his bones.

And true, I wasn’t really mad at him. Not anymore. Not after the sight I’d walked in on this morning.

If there was one thing that could melt my indignation, it was seeing a big, stoic, grumbly, shirtless man like Xander protecting his little girl like a knight in flannel-bottomed armor.

Welp, that was definitely not what I was supposed to be doing.

I wasn’t supposed to be reminiscing about my boss or all the delectable ways he’d infiltrated my mind with his piercing eyes or his fuckhot body or that rough, growly voice. It was why I’d turned on this bingeable nightmare in the first place—to distract me from real life.

And there was nothing more distracting than watching a group of people with boobs for days and ten-packs—six-packs were for losers, and even eight-packs weren’t enough—with no shame unloading their baggage while sitting in a hot tub and sobbing into a glass of wine.

Honestly, who hadn’t been there?

Witnessing emotional trauma bonding between strangers was bound to make me feel better about my life choices.

I blew out a heavy sigh and glanced down at the disproportionately large pile of socks in front of me. I loved Emma, but that girl changed socks more than most people changed their minds.

“And how is it that none of you match?” I muttered as Brantley wailed on the television about how his childhood hamster never loved him back. “We’re going to have to build a sock orphanage too. I’m sure the grumpy boss man is just going to love that.”

I’d managed to match exactly five pairs when the floor creaked behind me.

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

Besides the fact that Emma moved about as stealthily as an elephant on crack, the air changed whenever Xander was close.

It practically hummed with his presence, and my body always, always responded in kind.

After several long moments of silence, I couldn’t take it anymore and finally glanced back.

He stood a few feet behind me, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a faded Fire Department T-shirt, hair mussed from his post-shower towel-dry.

And Jesus tap-dancing Christ riding a unicycle, he should not look that good.

Not at eleven o’clock at night. Not when my ovaries were still having a parade over the sight of him sleeping in Emma’s room.

And certainly not when I was trying to beat back the horny beast that lived inside me.

That T-shirt fit him like a second skin, reminding me of every inch I’d come eye-to-chest with my first day on the job. And those joggers? They might as well have had huge letters across the waistband reading, Here’s Your Dick in a Box for how well his substantial package was presented in them.

“You’re still up?” His voice was low and rough, laced with something that could’ve been surprise or disappointment, but I didn’t need two guesses to figure out which it probably was.

“The princess needed clean socks for tomorrow. And you’re just in time.” I motioned to the pile in front of me. “Tonight’s meeting is about to start.”

“What meeting is that?”

“The Sock Orphanage Support Group, obviously. We’re welcoming new members who’ve been abandoned by their partners in the dryer.”

“Sounds tragic,” Xander deadpanned.

“You have no idea.” I patted the cushion next to me. “Grab a seat. I found you can really repress your feelings through aggressive folding.”

He stared at me for a beat. Two… And I worried he’d ask what kind of feelings I needed to repress. But instead, he shocked the hell out of me and took the seat next to me. Like, voluntarily .

With his brow furrowed, he reached out, riffling through the pile. “None of these match.”

“I know. It’s probably going to give you an aneurysm, but we’re just going to roll with it. We’ll call it the Sock Rebellion. Emma will be thrilled to start a new trend, and you won’t have to buy a dozen new pairs of socks only for this to happen again in a week.”

He stared at me for a long moment, and I could guess what was going through his mind. Namely—who the hell was this weird girl, and what had he been thinking to invite her into his home and be in charge of his impressionable daughter?

Finally, he grabbed two socks, his face twisted in disgust as he matched hot dogs with tutu-wearing dinosaurs, rolled them into a tight knot, and discarded them onto the table like they’d called him Chief Cuddles in front of his crew.

“Wow,” I said, drawing out the word. “You really showed those socks who’s boss.”

He slid me a glance, and I could’ve sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. But that couldn’t be right. It was definitely the two glasses of wine I’d had going to my head and not Xander Steele actually smiling .

“They asked for it,” he said. “They should be ashamed of themselves, making me pair them together.”

“Don’t think of it like that.”

“How should I think of it, then?”

“Be happy you just reunited star-crossed lovers.”

His brows hit his hairline. “I did what now?”

“A public service, if you ask me. Let’s keep playing Cupid, shall we?

” I grabbed two random socks—one with dancing lemons, the other solid pink.

“Take these two, for instance. They met in a laundromat in Tennessee. This one comes with a trust fund and daddy issues. This one just got out of jail. They fell in love despite their differences. Now they run a record store in Vermont.”

Xander just stared at me, blank-faced, then shook his head. “Exactly how much wine have you had, chaos?”

“Enough to assign fictional life paths to socks. Which, in my opinion, is just the right amount.” I grinned at him, and though he didn’t return it, I could make out something softer in his eyes as he regarded me.

And there was that goddamn charge again.

It arced between us, sending goose bumps scattering across my skin. Making me drop my gaze to his lips. Wondering what they’d feel like contrasting with the scrape of his beard.

Before I could do something really stupid—like inch forward and find out for myself—Xander cleared his throat and turned his attention to the TV.

On the screen, Brantley was mid-confession, sobbing into another glass of wine as the man he was on a date with shifted uncomfortably across the table.

Xander made a face like he’d smelled something rotten. “Is this what dating’s like now? Exposing all your traumas over appetizers and wine?”

“Only on reality TV. I can’t remember the last time a man sobbed during the first course. Is your dating experience different, Chief?”

“Don’t have much in that area.”

I snorted and let out a little laugh. One that died on my tongue when I realized he wasn’t joking. “You’re serious? But you’re—” Older, hot, well established . A complete fucking catch, if one could get past the surliness. “—you.”

He huffed out a breath. “Exactly why I don’t do it.”

“I get that.” I darted my gaze over his face, trying to get a read on all the things he wasn’t saying, but he was locked up tight. “That’s why I usually live vicariously through these idiots on TV. Sometimes it’s nice to pretend people don’t leave.”

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I wanted so desperately to snatch them back. Or to laugh. Just play it off like it was a joke and not something that kept me company more often than I’d like to admit.

But before I could do any of that, Xander stared at me for a long beat. Then he glanced back to the laundry and said, “My dad left when I was twenty-one.”

And that was it. Nothing more.

Just those handful of words, given without inflection or emotion. As if he were reporting on the weather.

He didn’t look at me, just folded another mismatched pair of socks. All the while, I sat in silence, waiting— hoping —for more.

But I knew it wouldn’t come.

I hadn’t known him long, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was normally a closed book. Hell, I was probably lucky he’d told me his name. So, this? This had been huge. And he wouldn’t have done it for no reason.

The pieces started clicking together in my mind—not just how he’d snapped at me last night, but the quiet guilt I’d noticed underlying everything he did. The way he treated Emma like he was trying to earn back time. How he wanted everything just perfectly so.

I realized he didn’t need to say more. Not about this. His reactions when it came to his daughter weren’t about control.

They were about shame. And loss.

“Jesus,” I muttered, my eyes still on him. “So, when Emma had a nightmare about?—”

“It felt like I’d failed her when you got there first.” He avoided my gaze, suddenly very interested in the socks he paired together—cartoon donuts and wiener dogs. “Like I was repeating history. After I’d unknowingly repeated it the first four years of her life.”

My chest tightened like someone had cinched up a corset too tight, leaving me struggling for breath. “That’s a hell of a lot of weight to carry on four-year-old shoulders.”

“That’s what I’m trying to stop. I don’t want her to carry it. That’s on me.”

“It’s not,” I said too quickly and far too loud for the quiet space between us.

I didn’t know this man, not really. I’d only been in his life for less than two weeks—just a handful of days. But still, I knew this .

I knew he was good. I knew he was trying. And I knew if he had known about Emma, he never, ever would’ve abandoned her.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “Someone else’s choices aren’t on you. All you can do going forward is try to make the right ones.”

He didn’t respond, but I caught the slightest dip of his chin. Like maybe my words had landed somewhere unexpected.

This whole night was turning out to be quite unexpected.

“Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

I smiled and bumped my shoulder into his. “Was that painful for you?”

“Little bit.”

We folded in silence for a while, matching up various designs. And for some reason, I had this itch under my skin to reassure him. Despite the fact that we were oil and water. Despite the fact that we couldn’t seem to exist in the same space without nearing combustion. That didn’t matter right now.

He thought he was failing, but he was succeeding more than he knew just by showing up. After all, I was an expert on being on the receiving end when people didn’t bother.

“Emma says she loves when you read to her, because you do the best voices.”

He snapped his head toward me, his eyes hopeful in a way I’d never seen from him before. In a way I was sure he didn’t mean to show me. “She says that?”

“Yep. But she also says my dragon voices are unrealistic, so maybe take it with a grain of salt.”

His lips twitched again—another trick of the light. “Well, you are kind of dramatic.”

I flicked my hair behind my shoulder and grinned. “Thank you.”

Snorting, he shook his head and glanced back at the pile of socks. And I couldn’t do anything but stare at his profile—at those ridiculously long eyelashes and the short beard I wanted to feel on my thighs and those lips I so desperately wanted to lick and suck.

Okay, wow .

Simmer down, libido. This is not that kind of show.

I needed to get out of this room. Immediately. Or I was going to do something incredibly ill-advised—like shove him down on the couch, climb up, and ride that beard until I came all over those lips I was just admiring.

So, I gathered up an armful of paired socks and stood, heading toward the stairs. With one foot on the bottom step, I turned to him. “You’re good at more than just not leaving, you know. And she sees that.”

And then before he could reply, I raced up the stairs. Because if I stayed another second, I was either going to ride his beard or trauma dump, and neither seemed wise to do with my boss.