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

He pushed off from the frame and strode toward me.

“I got volunteered to tell you we’re not usually this incompetent.

” Grinning, he took a seat in the chair across from me and leaned back without a care in the world.

As if he hadn’t just walked through a glitter explosion in the firehouse.

“Who would have thought Stage Two meant something completely different in Chicago?”

Blowing out a heavy sigh, I tossed my pen onto the desk. “This is a fire station. It makes a hell of a lot more sense for that phrase to mean a two-story structure fire simulation than ‘untangle string lights and find every bottle of glitter within a three-mile radius,’ don’t you think?”

Ford chuckled. “You would think. But this crew gets a little eager when we prep for festivals. Chief Brambert always bought a case of beer to whoever managed to untangle last year’s lights the fastest without swearing, so they’re invested.”

“Would you say you’re all very familiar with these festivals, then?”

“Definitely. Probably more familiar than we should be.”

I braced my elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “And yet, not a single one of the grown-ass adults in this station wondered why the hell I’d order festival prep eight weeks early.”

He cringed. “Not our best move. But to be fair, Mabel did just send an email with that exact phrase—capital S, capital T.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand down my face. Of fucking course my menace of a neighbor was behind this clusterfuck.

“Other than this little shitstorm, you settling in okay?” he asked.

No, I absolutely wasn’t. Because it wasn’t just the Stage Two miscommunication.

It had also been the inspection paperwork I’d forgotten to sign and the training schedule I thought I’d posted but never actually did and the rookie I’d snapped at for something that was probably my fault in the first place.

It was the fact that I couldn’t remember the goddamn radio codes without double-checking the binder, and apparently the dispatch ladies thought I was mad at them every time I opened my mouth.

That wasn’t even delving into the personal side of things, where there was an entire truck’s worth of more bullshit I hadn’t yet figured out, no matter how hard I tried.

Somehow, I thought I’d be able to make it work with a group of adults looking to me—the guy who’d had to send his daughter to preschool in mismatched shoes—for guidance.

I’d figured coming back home was the smart move.

The safe move. But it was turning out to be just more proof I was fucking this up.

I hadn’t committed a lot of fuckups in my life, and I could officially say I wasn’t a fan.

“I’m not sure settling is the word I’d use,” I muttered. “Or okay, for that matter.”

“You’ll get it. Just gotta give it some time. Chief Brambert was here for decades, and everyone’s used to how he did things. Plus, I think everybody assumed the promotion would come from in-house—someone we already had a relationship with. So there’s gonna be an adjustment period.”

I snapped my gaze to his, trying to get a read on his expression, but it was the same laid-back, never-bothered look he always had about him. “Shit, man, did I step on toes around here? Were you hoping?—”

“God, no.” Ford lifted a hand and shook his head. “No, not yet anyway. If Brambert had stuck around for another five or ten years, maybe. But now’s not a good time for Quinn and me—with kids and everything.”

I blinked at him, searching my memory for any mention of Ford and his wife having kids and coming up empty. “You have kids?”

“Not yet.” He grinned widely. “But we’re trying. Just want to make sure all my focus is on that, you know?”

“Right,” I said, while internally I was second—third…fourth… fifth —guessing my move here and the change in position that had come along with it.

Because Ford’s only thing he needed to be focused on was fucking his wife. And even then, he didn’t want the distraction of being chief to interfere with that.

Meanwhile, I was the sole responsible party for a little girl I’d helped create but hadn’t known three months ago.

A little girl who’d just lost her mother and was thrust into a brand-new world with strangers.

A little girl who was going to weekly therapy sessions in hopes of helping her work through the trauma she’d experienced in her short life.

But yeah, sure, pile chief duties on top of that.

What a fucking idiot.

When diving into single fatherhood, I’d known I wouldn’t always make the right choice, but I’d hoped I’d make the sensible one.

The trouble was, I thought this was it. Moving back home so I could be close to family—so Emma could be close to family—had seemed like a no-brainer.

Especially when my mom had told me the chief position had opened up.

But right now, sitting here with a tally of fuckups under my belt for the day—split equally between work and home—I didn’t feel like a chief. And I sure as hell didn’t feel like much of a father.

All I felt like was a man barely holding his life together with duct tape and string, hoping no one noticed exactly how frayed the edges were.

After a long-ass day—and three hours later than planned—I unlocked my front door and slipped into the dim, nearly silent house, my mom’s subtle perfume hanging in the air. While that should have comforted me, all it seemed to do was remind me I was failing.

One of the other main reasons I’d taken the chief job was that the schedule was far more reasonable than I’d had as a firefighter. But I’d come to realize that Chief Brambert had worked long, unsustainable hours—no doubt one of the reasons his wife had forced him into an early retirement.

Stepping into his shoes meant a lot of adjustments, as well as shifting and moving pieces that couldn’t always be planned for. Which also meant there were many days when I didn’t get off work on time. Or even close to on time.

I toed off my boots and strode into the living room, finding Emma and my mom on the couch. Mom was running a gentle hand over Emma’s hair as my daughter slept, her head resting in my mom’s lap, her tattered unicorn plushie clutched to her chest.

“She was waiting up for you,” Mom said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Said she wanted to make sure Daddy got home safe.”

A knot lodged itself in my throat, and I cleared it, trying to force it down.

Of course she’d been worried—her mom had been there one day and gone the next.

And here I was, walking through the door hours late, probably confirming her worst fears.

Christ, I was screwing this up in so many ways, I was starting to lose count.

“I’ll take her up,” I said, my voice gruff.

I scooped Emma into my arms before heading toward the stairs and up to her bedroom. It was hard to believe someone who weighed next to nothing had settled something so heavy on my shoulders. Something that felt like the weight of the entire fucking world.

I laid her down on her pink sheets and covered her with the unicorn blanket she’d picked out. When Emma had first come to stay with me, the social worker had suggested it might help my daughter with the adjustment if she picked out something herself for her new room.

But it turned out it didn’t matter which bedroom set I purchased or the color of her bedding or how many stuffed animals filled the space to make it less lonely.

We were both still floundering.

The difference, though, was that I was supposed to have my shit together. I was the adult in this situation, and she was just a scared little girl who was looking to me to make everything better.

I stared down at her—at this tiny little peanut I was somehow in charge of.

And though I’d been at it for months, I was still in over my head, screwing it up day after day.

Every night, I promised myself tomorrow would be the day I finally got it right, knowing deep down I was nowhere near the father she needed.

I swept the hair back from her face, tucked the covers under her chin, and leaned down to brush a kiss across her forehead before slipping out of her room.

Mom was sitting in the same place I’d left her, an understanding smile on her face. “Rough day?”

Breathing out a sigh, I dropped down onto the couch, resting my head back on the cushions. “More like rough week. Sorry you had to stick around so late.”

She made a dismissive sound and patted my knee. “You know I never mind staying. I missed the first four years of that little angel’s life, so I’m going to soak up as much as I can now.”

“I know. But I also know you have your own life.”

She hummed. “Speaking of… I know this isn’t an ideal time, considering the day you’ve had, but I’m afraid it can’t wait any longer.”

“What?” I asked, wariness heavy in my tone.

She tipped her head toward the open laptop sitting on the coffee table. The headline Hiring a Live-In Nanny was bold and prominent on the page.

“No,” I said without hesitation. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

My mom blew out a breath and hit me with her I wish you would just listen to me for once in your life stare. “And here I thought Declan was my dramatic one.”

“He is. And I’m not being dramatic. I’m being firm .”

“Well, you’re going to have to unfirm yourself, honey. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you since I’ve told you repeatedly, but I go back to full-time hours at work next week.”

“Fuck,” I said on an exhale and closed my eyes.

“Yeah, fuck. And my schedule at the library is as unpredictable as yours is at the firehouse. Some days, I’ll be able to drop off or pick up Emma from preschool, or stay here with her until you get home, but not every day. In fact, not most days.”

My chest tightened, the pressure of having to figure it out bearing down. “I’ll handle it.”

She hummed and stood from the couch. After shrugging into her coat, she pinned me with a stare that looked an awful lot like pity. “You are so much like your older brother.”

Atlas had his shit together more than most people and always took care of what needed taking care of, so that was a win in my book.

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment,” she said dryly. “You and Atlas are both hardheaded and stubborn and think you need to take care of everything on your own. But isn’t that the entire reason you moved home in the first place? So you wouldn’t have to?”

Yeah. It was. But there was something very different from my family helping with Emma and having a literal stranger move in to my house.

“Just take a look at it.” Shooting another glance at the open laptop, she hooked her purse over her shoulder and unlocked the door. “And, Xander? Don’t wait.”

The door shut softly behind her, leaving the house in silence.

But there was nothing calm about the bomb she just dropped.

For weeks, my mom had been dancing around my hiring some help, but she’d never come right out and told me I needed a nanny.

And not just any nanny, but a live-in nanny?

Someone here in our space when Emma and I were still trying to find our rhythm?

My gut told me it wasn’t a good idea, and a quick glance at the website confirmed as much. I closed out of the tab without a moment’s hesitation before shutting the laptop.

I’d figure this out. I didn’t know how I was going to do that or what it would look like when I did. What I did know was I was that little girl’s sole remaining parent. I didn’t take that responsibility lightly.

And I sure as hell wasn’t going to pawn it off on somebody else.