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ADRIAN

“ Y es? Can I help— Noelle? Is that you?”

Breath chokes in my throat, and my head spins.

I know my best friend’s sister, Noelle, is coming, but I remember her as the freckled-faced, chubby-cheeked ten-year-old next door who kept tagging along with me and my friends.

More specifically, me and her brother, Peter.

I remember how she would hide outside his bedroom door, drawing in her journal or doing her homework or braiding her Barbie doll’s hair.

It wasn’t because she liked to eavesdrop and report us to her parents, but more like she didn’t want to be left out.

Noelle didn’t have a lot of friends at the time, so she always hung out with her brother’s buddies.

I used to stay there a lot after school to play games, so we’d always see each other.

She even liked to bring me snacks. Me, not her brother, but me. That always made me laugh.

Those are my memories of her.

So when she shows up at my front door, a twenty-five-year-old who’s about to become my son’s live-in nanny, I’m equally confused and disoriented.

Gone is the awkward Noelle who’s always trying to keep up with us, and in her place is a grown woman.

Not just any grown woman. A curvy, beautiful woman.

And definitely not awkward. Definitely not the Noelle I used to know.

She’s grown. Those pale green eyes are full of amusement and knowing as she catches me staring.

If someone told me years ago that one day I’d be staring at Noelle, slack-jawed and a little nervous, I would have laughed.

I never saw her that way. But like I said, this is a different Noelle. A warning would have been nice.

Her copper hair that she used to cut above her ears now cascades in waves over her shoulders.

I’m thoroughly unprepared for the barrage of images shuffling in my mind.

Images of that same hair wrapped around my fist as I tug or yank it, however she prefers.

Of how her hair would look good fanning on my pillow, how her full red lips would feel against mine, how good she would feel around me, if she’s responsive, if she likes to be dominant or be dominated.

Ah, fuck.

The world tilts, and I have to grab the door frame for support. I wasn’t prepared to meet her … or this version of her.

Goddammit.

When did this happen? When did she grow into this person who made my heart pound in my chest and my throat dry? When did I have a weak hold on my self-control? Why do I feel an instant deep longing in my bones?

Noelle flips her hair over her shoulder, and her face splits into a smile.

No. This isn’t the Noelle of old, all right.

The confidence, the sexuality radiating from her.

This is the Noelle who can make every head turn and wish they were either her or with her.

This is the Noelle every man wants to marry.

My stomach flips at the realization, and I’m drowning. Completely, unspeakably, and utterly lost with one look from her.

“Hi, Adrian! Missed me?”

That playful tone is the only giveaway that somewhere under this woman is the girl who enjoyed my company and laughed at my jokes, no matter how awful they were.

My gaze drops to her mouth just briefly, and my blood rushes south. This is dangerous. She’s off-limits and untouchable. Just thinking of her this way feels wrong, like her brother can show up behind her and smack me in the face for letting my mind stray into forbidden territory.

Something rushes to the surface. Something raw, intense, primal, forgotten, and long buried.

“God, look at you. Come in, Noelle. The house is a bit of a mess, by the way. I just picked up Tomtom from preschool, and our place is never clean when he’s around.

” Tomtom is my five-year-old boy. The center of my universe and the sole reason for my happiness these past few years.

“Actually, you know what, the house is never clean. Let’s leave it at that. ”

Noelle chuckles as I take the small luggage from her. “Wow, Adrian Grant. The guy who always had girls trailing him, offering him snacks, and giving him flowers. Now a single dad with a kid. Who would have thought?”

I cross my arms over my chest and raise a brow at her, feeling that familiarity between us bloom into something else. “Not really surprising since I’m already thirty-two. High school was decades ago.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re a pretty old man. How are your knees and back, by the way? I have a peppermint balm you can use.” She has the audacity to laugh, a rich, full sound that reverberates in the living room.

I snort, masking how my stomach tightens at the way she calls me that.

“Old man? That’s bold coming from someone who used to have braces and trip over her own feet.

I mean, remember when your dad put all those anti-slip tapes all over your stairs so you wouldn’t end up with a concussion every time you came down? ”

She rolls her eyes. “That was years ago. I’m perfectly graceful now.”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

Before she can respond, tiny feet thump against the stairs, and my kid barrels into the room, barefoot and in his favorite ratty dinosaur pajamas.

His hair sticks up in every direction, and there’s a red Sharpie smudge on his cheek.

No idea how it got there or that we even own a red Sharpie.

He probably doesn’t even know it’s even there.

After all, he’s supposed to be in bed now.

“Hi!” Tomtom chirps, grinning up at her.

I try not to show my surprise. Tomtom is not the friendliest kid. He’s painfully shy. He doesn’t come up to people he hasn’t met and introduce himself.

Noelle doesn't hesitate. She drops to my kid’s level, smiling wide, and opening her arms. I’m about to tell her he isn’t big on hugs. But my nth surprise of the night comes in the form of Tomtom stepping into the hug and wrapping his small arms around her neck.

And just like that, any hesitation I have about hiring her wavers. I watch in awe at the effortlessly easy way she coaxes my son from his shell.

“You must be Tomtom,” she says, her voice warm, inviting. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Tomtom grins, rocking on her heels, clasping his hands behind him. “Did Dad talk about me?” He throws me a look, skeptical. “Because he always says I talk too much when it’s time for bed.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the wall. “I stand by that. All your stories and sudden realizations come out at bedtime.”

The woman in front of me laughs, and it does something to my chest, something tight and unsettling, which I try to ignore … unsuccessfully. “I like talkers,” she tells Tomtom. “Makes my job more fun.”

“Please don’t call me Tomtom.” He leans close to her to whisper, but his voice is loud enough that I can hear it all the way from here. “I like Thomas better.”

“Oh, duly noted, Thomas.” She lowers her voice, glancing at me playfully. “Are you the boss around here or is he?”

Tomtom nods, all serious. “Dad thinks he is. But really, it’s me.”

I huff, amazed at how, five minutes into meeting each other for the first time, they’re suddenly best friends and ganging up on me. “That’s not?—”

“Dad, please be quiet.” Tomtom presses a tiny finger to his lips. “You said it’s not polite to interrupt when people are talking.”

Noelle bites back a laugh, and I shake my head, watching as my kid takes to her like he’s known her forever.

Tomtom chatters away, filling the room with his animated stories—something he only ever does with people he’s already comfortable with—and she listens with full attention, nodding, gasping in all the right places, asking questions as though she actually cares about every ridiculous detail.

It’s not surprising, not really. Peter mentioned in passing that she used to be a teacher, said she had the patience of a saint. But hearing it and seeing it are two different things.

I should focus on the fact that she’s the perfect nanny—capable, sweet, kind, and effortlessly handling my kid. But all I can focus on is the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she laughs. The way her eyes flicker with amusement when she catches me watching.

Noelle came into our home, and all of a sudden, everything looked brighter, the colors more vivid.

My God. What in the world is happening to me? Have I gone way too long without a woman? Is my dry spell finally catching up to me?

I clear my throat. “All right, Tom, don’t overwhelm her on her first day. Besides, you should be in bed.”

Tomtom grins up at me. “She likes talkers, remember?”

Noelle shrugs, smirking. “He’s got a point.”

With a sigh, I tip my head to his bedroom upstairs. “Yes, but it’s past your bedtime, young man.”

Tomtom pouts, but he gives her a quick hug before hugging my leg and running upstairs. Noelle and I watch him, and I hear her soft chuckle. It’s not just about Tomtom chatting with her like he’s known her forever. It’s the fact that he hugged her. Twice.

Hug.

Tomtom isn’t normally affectionate. He is to me, but not to someone he’s just met.

God, I should be relieved that Tomtom likes her. That I’ve clearly found someone good and trustworthy. Someone I know will take good care of him when I’m not at home.

But all I feel is something else entirely—something that twists low in my gut.

Something dangerous. Something intense. Something difficult to ignore.

I’m in trouble. Deep, deep trouble. And the worst part is, I’m not even sure I want to dig myself out of this hole.

The beer is cold, and the game on TV is barely holding my attention.

Normally, at this time, I’m already relaxing, unwinding after a long day, my muscles sore, but my mind keeps drifting to her.

To the way she smiled at Tomtom, to the warmth in her voice, to the way she fit so effortlessly into my house a few minutes after arriving.

As if she already carved a spot for herself in our lives.

I take another swig, shaking off the thought. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Peter will have my head if he finds out I’m thinking of his sister this way.

When she was in high school, Peter found out she was dating a jock. He drove for three hours to corner the guy, and put the fear of God into him. He and Noelle apparently had a big row about it, but she ultimately understood he was just playing the part of a good big brother.

Now the tables have turned. Am I about to lose my best friend because of these thoughts I have of his sister? But I guess, if they’re just thoughts and I don’t act on them, it will be fine. Right? Nobody else has to know.

“Ow! Crap!”

The loud yelp echoes from upstairs, sharp and pained. My chest tightens, fear crawling up my spine. I’m up in seconds, moving before my brain catches up, taking the stairs two at a time.

As a father to a boy who likes grabbing things he shouldn’t, my protective instincts are sharp and give me superhuman strength and speed.

Without thinking, I shove open the guest bedroom door, heart hammering, half-expecting to find Noelle on the floor, injured and bleeding or worse.

Instead, she’s standing in the middle of the room, balancing on one foot, her hands clutching the other. Her face twists in pain, frustration burning in her eyes.

No blood or broken bones. That’s good.

I glance down. A single, cursed yellow LEGO piece lies on the floor, and another sticks to her foot.

Shit.

I exhale sharply, rubbing a hand over my face, willing my heart to calm down. “Jesus. You almost gave me a heart attack over a LEGO?”

She glares at me. “Have you ever stepped on one of these? Because I swear, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I thought I stepped foot in hell.”

I smirk, crossing my arms. Have I ever stepped on one? She should have seen the murderous look on my face each time I saw someone gift my son a box of LEGOs. I’m still convinced it’s the work of the devil, and no one can tell me otherwise. “Want me to call an ambulance?”

She narrows her eyes. “Keep laughing, old man. Karma’s watching.”

I step closer, instinct pulling me in. She’s still balancing on one foot, still gripping her ankle, and for some reason, I feel the overwhelming urge to steady her. My hands twitch at my sides.

And that’s the exact moment it registers on me.

Noelle’s not wearing anything. She only has a thin towel wrapped around her luscious body.

Holy mother of…

That stops me in my tracks, my smile disappearing. I’m firing on all cylinders, spiraling inward. I need to step outside, go back to my beer, and forget the vision of a semi-naked Noelle.

My body fails to get the memo, though, and I stand there staring at her for what seems like hours.

Noelle realizes it a beat too late because her eyes widen, and she briefly drops her gaze to the thin piece of fabric covering her.

The only thing between us. Gone is the playful glint in her eyes and replaced by the flush creeping on her chest, neck, and cheeks.

“I-I should leave. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Noelle nods and forces a smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Okay. Good. Just call me if you need anything.”

I start to back out of the room when my eyes snag on something. Her luggage is open, its contents spilling out. It’s just a bunch of clothes, some folders, but…

A bright pink eggplant-shaped something sits on top of it, and it looks suspiciously like…

“Oh my God.” Noelle runs across the room and dives to the floor to cover her luggage. “Don’t look, Adrian, please. I swear. This isn’t mine. My roommate must have packed it as a joke. I’m sorry. I’ll throw it out. Please forget you ever saw it.”

Noelle keeps rambling, but I can no longer hear a word she says.

In fact, all my other senses have dulled except my sight.

In her hurry to cover the sex toy, Noelle has forgotten one important thing—she only has a towel on.

A towel that wasn’t secured to her body.

A towel that slipped off her. A towel that now lies on the floor.

And there she is in all her naked glory.

Her ass is up in the air as she hurriedly zips her luggage, and I spot the exact moment she realizes it. Her whole body stiffens, and she slaps both hands to her mouth.

A more decent man would turn around and leave her in peace. But my moral compass has never truly pointed north, and I do what a shameless, sex-starved guy in my position will.

I stare and stare and stare.