Page 33 of Worth the Try (Atlanta Granite #1)

Elodie

I WAKE UP in Ansel’s bed, sun streaming through the blinds.

“Good morning, Daddy,” a tiny voice whispers on Ansel’s side of the bed. “Did you and Elle Belle have a sleepover?”

Well, no hiding this now , I think, rising onto an elbow and smiling at the sweet little girl peering over the bed. Thank goodness I put on one of his T-shirts last night.

Beside me, Ansel’s voice is deep and scratchy as he answers his daughter. “Good morning, Rosie Posie. Did you let me sleep late?”

“Yes, but now I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” Ansel says. “Maybe I need a Rosie sandwich.”

Suddenly, he’s grabbing a squealing five-year-old and pulling her into the bed in between us, snorting and smacking his lips while Rosie laughs hysterically.

“Save me, Elle Belle!” Rosie giggles, clinging onto me while Ansel pretends to chomp on her.

“Okay, okay,” Ansel finally says, “I guess I can eat regular food. Give me and Elodie a few minutes, okay?”

Rosalie scampers off the bed, leaving the room with an “Okay, Daddy!”

I start to throw the covers off, but Ansel growls and yanks me to him, all warmth and hard body and smelling of sleep and deliciousness.

His hand slides up the shirt and cups my breast while he threads our legs together.

There’s no mistaking the hardness between his…

or the wetness between mine. “Where do you think you’re going? ”

I meet his eyes. They’re twinkling and bright. “To get dressed so we can feed Rosie?”

“Not yet.” He starts to slide under the covers between my legs, then pops back up, his eyes glimmering. “Let’s test my theory.”

“What theory is that?”

“The one where I test, yet again, how good you are at staying so quiet that the kid down the hall has no idea you’re coming.”

I widen my eyes. “Ansel!” I whisper-hiss. But he disappears beneath the covers again. “Don’t you— oh ,” I break off as his mouth meets my pussy, my hips bucking up of their own accord.

Of course, I can be quiet.

But it’s not easy.

We make our way downstairs a short while later, my face flushed and my body humming. Ansel gets the coffee going while I inspect the fridge for breakfast inspiration. After grabbing some ingredients, I turn and find Ansel studying me.

“What?”

“I’d like to tell her,” he says, his voice quiet.

“Tell who about what?” I ask. I suspect I know what he means, but I also don’t want to hope.

“Tell Rosie about us.”

My whole chest warms at the confirmation. “Really?”

“I’m bound to get questions about why we had a sleepover, and if you can spend the night in her bed, and if the three of us can sleep in the same bed, and so on,” he says with a grin. “So, if you’re okay with it…yeah,” he finishes. “I’d like to tell her.”

I’m not sure I can smile any wider. “That sounds amazing.”

He nods. “Then it’s settled.”

Over a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast, Ansel broaches the topic. “So, Rosie Posie.”

“Yes, Daddy?” Rosie answers, her mouth full of eggs.

“Mouth.” He arches an eyebrow at her, the scar going through it that much more pronounced. When she closes her mouth, he continues, “You like Elodie, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, taking a giant bite of toast and lining the outsides of her cheeks with grape jelly.

“So, what would you say if I told you that I wanted her to be my girlfriend?”

“Like Rapunzel and Flynn Rider?”

Ansel hesitates, so I take over. “Yes, sort of like Rapunzel and Flynn Rider,” I answer.

She smiles. “I like that.” Then she looks over at me. “Can we go to the thrift store today?”

Now it’s my turn to hesitate, because it’s Saturday, and normally that’s when Ansel and Rosie spend a lot of time together.

But Ansel just glances at me, the look on his face wide open even as he gives me the sexiest smile.

To Rosie, he says, “You don’t want to hang out with me like we always do on Saturdays? ”

She shrugs. “I mean, if we have to.”

I hold back a snort of laughter.

“But if Elle Belle is living with us now, then won’t we all see each other all the time?”

Ansel and I freeze, looking at each other with now what? expressions.

“Um,” I start.

“We should probably go get Cleocatra,” she continues, popping a piece of bacon in her mouth. “I bet she’s lonely. And she’s definitely hungry. Right, Elle Belle?”

“Tell you what,” Ansel says. “Let’s let Elodie do some things on her own for a bit this morning. I’d like to take you to the park.”

She shrugs. “Okay.”

Later, as Rosie runs upstairs to get dressed and gather her hair supplies, Ansel pulls me to him in the kitchen.

“Sorry about that.” He smiles down at me, then laughs. “I didn’t realize we were moving in together.”

My cheeks heat. “Yeah…you’ll talk to her?”

“Of course. I need to tell her about Lauren, too. Not the bad stuff, exactly, but she needs to know—” He breaks off and sighs. I squeeze him tight, and he tries again. “She needs to know about her, in case things…”

When it’s clear he can’t finish the sentence, I simply put my head on his chest and hug him. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Is it?” His voice is thick.

I pull back to look at him. “Yes. You’re her father, Ansel. You’re the one who’s been here the whole time, loving her, taking care of her. That’s what matters.”

Fear, stark and unguarded, lines his face. “I hope you’re right. Because if Lauren—if she takes my little girl?—”

“That’s not going to happen,” I insist.

He swallows. “But if it does.”

“Ansel. It is not going to happen. In no world does this happen.” I sound a lot more certain than I feel, but it doesn’t matter. If Ansel needs me to be the strong one, then I will be. It’s that simple.

“Okay. Okay,” he repeats, looking out the kitchen window. Then he releases a nervous laugh. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas on what I should tell Rosie?”

I hold my hands up. “I got nothing, boss.”

He winces. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

Gesturing between the two of us, he clarifies, “Us. This. You’re her nanny.”

“Did that slip your mind?” I smile softly. “I’ll keep doing it, Ansel. And if you need someone past August, I’ll do that, too.”

He shakes his head. “No. No way. The preschool should have a spot. Besides, you have your business to launch. I’ll figure something out if I have to, but it should be okay.”

Crossing my arms, I press my lips together. “Let me help you, Ansel.”

“Nope,” he says, pulling me to him and kissing my forehead. “I got this.”