Page 8 of The Live-In Temptation (Steele Brothers of Starlight Cove #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

XANDER

I’d dealt with a lot of emergencies in my life—had run into collapsing buildings, cut toddlers out of crushed cars, and dragged unconscious men out of infernos.

But nothing had prepared me for the hurricane who showed up at my front door carrying a unicorn lunch box and shooting me a grin that screamed liability.

The same one I’d had to all but haul out of a flaming shed a week ago.

I’d been hoping I’d find a Mary Poppins type with a clipboard and a firm handshake.

What I’d gotten instead were three failed interviews and the woman with wild blond hair, a diamond stud in her nose, and tattoos I had absolutely no business noticing who’d managed to infiltrate my fucking dreams without my permission.

She looked like the kind of woman who made bad decisions on purpose just to see how much trouble they’d cause.

And I was supposed to hire her? To take care of my daughter ?

Jesus Christ.

I didn’t trust her. Not even a little. And yet, watching her with Emma—hearing that unrestrained, carefree laugh mixing with my daughter’s—I couldn’t deny it. Something about her tugged at me deep in my chest and low in my gut. It was constant and unwelcome. But it was relentless.

Which didn’t make any sense. I didn’t even like her.

She irritated the hell out of me, and I’d spent a grand total of twenty minutes in her presence.

It was definitely just the proximity that had me feeling off.

And the fact that she’d gotten Emma to giggle within the first five minutes of being here when it usually took my daughter hours or even days to warm up to someone new.

I should’ve been happy watching my little girl come out of her shell, even if it was with a stranger—a completely unhinged, utterly unprofessional, ridiculous-down-to-her-bones stranger.

But I couldn’t lie and say it didn’t sting.

Getting Emma to feel comfortable was my job.

I was her father. I was the one who was supposed to protect her, keep her safe, make her feel secure enough to be the real her.

But so far, I’d only seen Emma this relaxed with my mom.

And now Chloe—a woman who was proving to be a thorn in my side and she’d only just set foot into my life.

After she told Emma to keep up the good work and that she’d be right back, she grabbed something out of her ridiculous lunch box—I refused to call it a briefcase—and followed me into the kitchen.

I stood on one side of the island, and she stepped up to the other, unfolding the piece of paper she’d brought in before sliding it across the counter toward me. It was a résumé—if you could call this hodgepodge mix of jobs listed on a single sheet of paper a résumé.

“Figured you might want to see my qualifications.”

I eyed the “résumé” filled with more jobs than I’d had in my lifetime by double. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. How old are you?”

A hell of a lot older than that.

Rather than answer, I said, “You think being a dog walker for a poodle with separation anxiety, a chaos coordinator?—”

“That’s an unofficial title.”

“—at a mountain goat yoga retreat, and a massage therapist for a parrot rescue in Key West are all pertinent to this job?”

She shrugged. “That last one was deeply educational. Birds are hornier than you’d think.”

I didn’t even know how to respond to that, so I just stared at her, wondering how the hell I’d gotten here.

I’d completed three other interviews today, each one worse than the last. First, there’d been the guy who’d thought this would be perfect to pair with his delivery job because Emma could just tag along .

Then, there’d been the recent divorcée who admitted she wasn’t great with kids but needed a reason to get out of the house .

And finally, the retiree who’d asked if she could day drink while watching Emma, as long as she stuck to white wine.

And now, pure mayhem.

“Don’t forget the au pair in Monaco,” she said, pointing to the paper. “You’d think that was the most directly related, but I actually think all the skills I’ve gained from the other jobs will come in handy too.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I could handle a poodle with separation anxiety, so I know I can help your daughter feel comfortable in whatever environment she’s in. The goat yoga retreat? If I can corral twenty goats, I can corral a four-year-old.”

“And the massage therapist for an overly sexualized parrot?” I asked dryly.

“Easy—boundaries. I’m very good at setting them, Chief,” she said.

Something in my chest tightened at her words—some weird flicker I refused to name. And for a second, I felt…disappointed? Which made no goddamn sense.

Why the hell should I care if she set boundaries? I had my own already locked and loaded.

Yeah, she was gorgeous. Objectively speaking, of course. Mischievous eyes, untamed hair, and a mouth that was made by the devil himself.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was, she was sunshine chaos, a decade younger than me, and absolutely the wrong choice in every measurable way.

And, if I actually said yes to this absolutely insane plan, she’d be the one person besides me tasked with looking after my daughter.

“Uh-huh, and how about the professional mermaid?”

“That’s just a bonus. Think of me like a Swiss Army Knife—lots of tools, no clear owner’s manual.”

“That’s actually not comforting at all.”

She shrugged. “Sutton said you needed help. I can multitask, I can improvise, and I can clearly entertain your daughter. Besides that, I don’t burn down houses anymore.”

I snapped my gaze to hers. “I thought you said the shed was an accident?”

“I wasn’t talking about that one.” She waved away my concern like she was swatting a fly. “Never mind. That’s more of a third-date sort of discussion. Or something reserved for therapy. Not so much a job interview.”

When I was three seconds away from telling her this was over and I was obviously going to have to go with the divorcée because she was the best worst choice, Chloe blew out a long sigh.

Bracing her hands on the island, she looked up at me with the first serious expression I’d ever seen from her. “I know I look like nothing but a mess, but I’m dependable where it counts. Ask the count in Monaco. Or Mabel.”

“Mabel isn’t helping your case. She wouldn’t be my first choice as a character witness.”

“Well, that’s rude—she’s a pillar of this community thanks to the pillars she offers the community, if you know what I mean.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

I had no choice but to know about Mabel’s pillars , since the Pleasure Palace where she housed all her stock was directly across the street.

Before I could tell Chloe this just wasn’t going to work, Emma came running into the kitchen with a smile.

She held up a picture showing a tall stick figure with brown hair and what I hoped was a beard, a small one with pigtails, and a person-shaped blob made up entirely of sparkly crayons that might have been Chloe.

All three of them were standing in front of a blue house with white shutters.

“Do you like the picture of us, Daddy?”

My throat tightened as I took the paper from my daughter and stared down at it.

It wasn’t the first drawing she’d made since she’d come to live with me, but it was the first one depicting us.

I cleared my throat, attempting to swallow down the swell of emotion that had overcome me, but it wasn’t helping.

Chloe, clearly sensing I needed a minute, squatted down to Emma’s level. “You’re a very good artist, doodlebug.”

Emma’s smile widened until she was beaming at Chloe. “Can we use paints next time?”

And fuck me— next time . As if she was certain there’d be one.

Chloe noticed it too, if the way she slid her gaze to mine was any indication. Then she returned her attention to my daughter. “That’s up to your dad. I’m not sure if he’s ready to welcome paint into his house.”

From the way she said it, it was obvious she didn’t mean paint so much as her .

“Please, Daddy?” Emma said. “You could help us!”

As soon as she turned those eyes on me, I no longer had a leg to stand on. I’d been a dad for less than three months, but I already loved this little girl more than I’d loved anything. Ever. And I knew I’d give her whatever she wanted.

Chaos goblin included.

Blowing out a heavy sigh, I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing I was going to deeply regret this. But I was backed into a corner without much of a choice. “You’d need to be available full time beginning as soon as possible. My schedule is unreliable at the moment.”

Chloe shot me a beaming smile, one that lit up her entire face, and I ignored the pang in my gut at the sight. I knew I shouldn’t have had nachos for lunch. “Totally fine. I just need Thursday nights off.”

“Why?”

“I help Mabel with her…community outreach.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Book club.”

Something my mom was also a part of. And based on the books Atlas had mentioned Sutton reading for the club, I didn’t need to know any more details.

“Um…sure.”

I clenched my jaw, studying her for a long moment before sighing. “Fine.”

“Yay!” Emma wrapped her arms around my leg and squeezed tight. “Can it be sparkle paint?”

Chloe stood and booped Emma’s nose. “You got it.”

With a grin, my daughter ran off into the living room, muttering about another picture she wanted to draw, and Chloe turned toward me.

“So, I’m hired, huh?”

I cleared my throat and crossed my arms over my chest, ready to set those boundaries right along with her. “Just until I get my feet under me.”

She nodded. “Of course. Totally temporary. I never stay long anyway. I’ll be headed to Sedona the end of March, so that’s perfect.”

There was no reason her words should have made my stomach sink. I was probably just worried about my daughter growing attached to someone, only for them to leave. Again. I’d have to be cautious around Chloe and protect my daughter to ensure that didn’t happen.

I grabbed the house key I’d had made and slid it across the island toward her. “You can move in anytime, but I’ll need you to start Monday morning at 6.”

“You got it, Chief.” She saluted me, and her little sass shouldn’t have made my jeans tight. Jesus, I was really hard up. “Do I need to bring my own fire extinguisher, or is that part of the starter kit?”

I couldn’t tell if she was joking, and the mischievous grin she aimed my way didn’t help the matter. But as I watched her interact with my daughter before she headed out, promising Emma she’d be back this weekend to have all the fun , I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell I’d done.

Inviting this tornado of mayhem into my life—the life I’d worked hard to keep structured and controlled and utterly predictable—was surely a mistake.

But it was too late to stop it now.