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Carson - July
“ T wo on you! Fuck, I’m getting pushed. I’m dead!”
My noise-canceling headphones are removed from my head, and I peek up from my spot on the couch to find my twin sister’s stern look bearing down on me.
“Carse, can you help me pick up real quick before she arrives?” McKenna asks.
I answer her with a question of my own, “Before who arrives?”
“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?” she huffs, crossing her arms. “The nanny I’m interviewing to help watch Cadence a few days a week.”
“Wait, you’re hiring a nanny? Is she hot?”
She uncrosses her arms and places her hands on her hips, scoffing at me. “Seriously? No. Nope. You’re not messing this up for Cades and me. I need someone I can trust to take good care of my daughter and not bone my brother!”
“I mean, multitasking is a great skill to have on a resume—definitely comes in handy while nannying.”
“You’re incorrigible. I wonder why you’re still single . . .”
“Coming from my very single twin sister.” I flash her a sassy smirk.
Mack rolls her eyes. “Can you just help me? Quickly. She will be here any minute. Just pick up the wrappers from the coffee table and fold the blankets on the couch. I’ll do a quick sweep of the kitchen.”
I’m just taking the garbage out to the garage when the doorbell rings. Mack answers the door, and a woman’s voice floats through.
“Sorry, we can just sit on the barstools. We just moved in, so not all of the furniture has been unpacked yet,” my sister explains.
“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t mind,” a woman responds in a melodic voice—she sounds kind.
I tune them out as I gather a few snacks from the butler’s pantry. It’s the off-season, but I’ll report to my first training camp with the Wolverines in a few weeks. Even though I try to stick to my nutrition plan throughout the year, I feel like treating myself today.
Original Pringles, check. Beef jerky, check. And . . . puff corn, check. Alright, that’s good.
I round the corner out of the pantry to grab a Gatorade when my eyes land on the new nanny, or at least who I hope will be the new nanny.
My heart sinks to my feet at the sight of the woman before me. Her dark brown hair is parted in the middle and flows down to her mid-back in soft waves. She has a timeless look—a distinct jawline and high cheekbones frame her plush lips and button nose.
“Right, I have to apologize in advance. I’m a bit rusty when it comes to interviewing,” the beauty in front of me informs Mack. She even has the perfect voice, soft, but there’s a hint of an accent—perhaps a Southern twang.
“That’s okay. I’ve never conducted an interview before. Think of it as a chance to get to know one another,” Mack reassures her.
“Well, I graduated from college a couple of years ago with a degree in English. I’ve always loved working with kids of all ages. I babysat my younger cousins from the time I was twelve until I moved away for college,” she pauses.
So, she’s not only drop-dead gorgeous, but also intelligent and loves kids. This is the moment I’ll remember when I think of how I met the woman of my dreams.
“When it comes down to it, I’m looking for something to do while I decide what to do next with my degree.”
Just then, the two women turn their heads and notice me staring. Dream Girl has the most captivating emerald eyes framed by dark, long eyelashes and full, shapely brows, and I’m momentarily entranced. I blink out of it, flashing them my signature easygoing smile.
“Oh, hello! I’m Dakota. I’m here to interview for the nannying position.” My eyes widen and my heart pounds when she smiles my way. She has a one-of-a-kind smile; it reminds me of Julia Roberts, the way it lights up her entire face.
Setting my snacks on the island, I cross my arms and lean against the edge of the counter.
Dakota. My dream girl has a name, and it’s as beautiful as she is.
“You must be Mr. Wilder,” she continues, holding out her hand for me to shake.
Why does hearing her call me Mr. Wilder make my dick twitch? I like it far too much.
“Carson, McKenna’s twin brother. But you can call me Mr. Wilder if you’d like.” I untuck one of my arms to shake Dakota’s outstretched hand, chuckling at the way her face scrunches up at my remark.
“Oh my goodness, my apologies. It’s nice to meet you, Carson.” Dakota’s breath hitches as our hands meet—electricity pulses between us. But she quickly breaks the connection, pulling it away as if she’s been burned.
Mack interrupts us when she asks Dakota, “What is your availability for weekends and evenings? I’m on Abbott University’s volleyball team, so I may need the nanny to watch her during games if my parents decide not to bring her.”
“Honestly? I have practically no life. Most of my friends and family live out of state, so I rarely have plans that will conflict with your game or practice schedules. I’m assuming you’re also looking for someone to watch her while you’re in class?”
“Yes! But that’s just two days per week. The rest of the nannying position would come for practice times and games. There may also be the occasional nights where Carson plays that I might want to watch, but the games would be too late for Cadence.”
“That all sounds great.” Then Dakota turns to me and asks, “Do you also play a sport for Abbott?”
“I did last season. I just signed my rookie contract with the Minnesota Wolverines.”
When she continues to stare blankly at me, I smirk and add, “I am a professional hockey player.”
“Oh my gosh, how silly of me. Apologies, I don’t follow any sports aside from football. I don’t have much of a choice there,” she admits bashfully.
Now, my interest is even more piqued. “Why is that?” I ask.
“Well, growing up in Texas, it’s ingrained in our way of life.”
“Ah, so that’s where that slight drawl comes from. I like it.”
Dakota’s cheeks turn the most irresistible shade of crimson.
“Then there’s the fact that my older brother plays football for the Denver Mustangs.”
Wait . . . “Shit, really? What’s his name?”
“Brody Meyer, he plays—”
I cut her off. “Are you kidding me? Brody Meyer, one of the league’s all-time greatest quarterbacks, is your older brother?”
Her cheeks, to my surprise, get even darker with heat.
“My one and only.”
“Hey, Carse, could you go check on Cadence? I think I heard her just now. She might have woken up from her nap,” Mack interrupts.
Without another word, I run from the room to grab my niece from her crib. “I’m coming, Cadey Cat!”
I enter Cadence’s darkened room, and the motion-sensor night-light turns on, illuminating the space just enough for me to see my favorite little girl standing in her crib, making grabby hands at me.
Her wavy blonde hair stands up on end, making her look like baby Einstein.
She can’t quite say my name yet, but she’s getting close. It sounds more like Ca-Ca, which is cool with me. I have the sweetest little niece in the world, and she’s got me completely wrapped around her finger.
“Come here, Cadey Cat. Uncle Car Car is going to change your stinky butt, and then we’re going to woo your new nanny downstairs.”
After I change her diaper, I carry Cadence down the stairs on my hip, humming her favorite song as we go. When we enter the kitchen, her face lights up when she spots her mama.
“What’d we miss?” I raise my left brow. Cadence looks from Mack to Dakota and smiles so big her little dimple pops. Cadence claps her hands together, wiggling her body excitedly in my arms.
“I offered Dakota the position. And I’m hoping she’s about to accept the offer,” Mack announces, looking over at Dakota expectantly.
Just then, Dakota stands up and heads over to me and Cadence. She’s a petite little thing, easily a foot shorter than my six-foot-three frame. She’s wearing a beige crew neck that says “Pemberley est. 1813” with a graphic of an estate on it.
Ah, so she’s a Darcy girl. Dream Girl just keeps checking the boxes.
“Of course, I accept! Look at this darlin’. How could I say no to this smile?”
My face lights up at that. “I do have a great smile, don’t I? I had braces for two years in middle school and haven’t lost any teeth on the ice yet.”
“I wasn’t talking about you, Golden Boy.” Dakota’s taunt is so quiet I nearly miss it.
Golden Boy? Oh, I like this.
“Hear that, Mack? She’s already got a nickname for me.” I ruefully wiggle my eyebrows but don’t break eye contact with Dakota. “Careful, Austen, I might develop a crush,” I declare.
“I’m actually from Dallas,” Dakota replies, looking puzzled.
Oh, I know. Any football fan in the country is well aware of Brody Meyer’s roots. Instead of sharing that tidbit, I just shake my head and smile at the English major in a Pride and Prejudice sweatshirt.
Dakota must be someone who appreciates the classics, much like myself. I just met her, but I want to know everything about this woman. What’s her favorite book? Favorite author? Where does she like to read? Is she a Kindle girl? I’d bet she isn’t; she seems like the type of girl to curl up with a good paperback by the fire.
The moment Mack shuts the door behind Dakota after she accepts the position, she turns on me and pokes her pointer finger into my chest. “Stop whatever is going on in that flirtatious head of yours—she’s married.”
Hold up. What?
Married? My dream girl is married? She couldn’t be more than twenty-five. Since when did all of the good ones get snatched up so young?
From the moment I laid eyes on Dakota, I was absolutely enamored. My stomach sinks at the realization that my attraction for her can’t go anywhere. She’s married, so boundaries will be respected, of course. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to get to know her more while she’s hanging out with my little Cadey Cat. Perhaps the two of us can be . . . I run my fingers through my hair before settling on the realization that we can only be one thing, and that’s friends.