Page 13 of Big Trouble

For a moment, I’m transfixed by the phrase “eat me.”

But then I snap myself out of whatever state her near nakedness put me in and move to stand near her. In the tub is one of those multi-colored garden spiders. An orb- weaver of some sort.

“Those are harmless,” I tell her. “I thought someone was attacking you.”

“Him!” She points. “He was attacking me. That is straight from the creepy pits of Hell. And I swear it growled at me.”

I’ve lived in Tennessee my whole life, and I’ve never had a spider growl at me.

“What exactly was the plan with the broom handle?” I ask, doing my level best not to let my eyes wander south of her shoulders. But fuck me, even her shoulders are sexy.

“Smash it.”

“Orb, weavers are beneficial spiders who–”

“I don’t care!” She glares at me. “Can you just do the manly thing and take care of it. Please?”

I glance from the spider to my nanny and back again. Clearly, she wants me to squash it and … I don’t know, flush it down the toilet or something. But I know how harmless the spider is. So instead, I trap it under a water glass.

Disposing of it is a little more difficult since I have to pop the screen off the window to release it back into the wild, but it still takes only a few minutes.

I step back into the bathroom to find her still in her same warrior position, now aiming the broom in my direction.

“You’re safe now, Killer. You can get down.”

Her eyes are wide and still edged with panic. She shakes her head.

I step toward her and take the broom out of her hand and set it against the corner. Then I lift her legs, letting her body naturally drape over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold and carry her back out into her bedroom.

I try to ignore the heat of her skin next to my ear, on my shoulder, down my back. I fail. I also fail at not noticing the fresh citrusy scent of her. I drop her on the bed.

She frowns. “That was unnecessary.”

“You were frozen.”

“You saw me in my underwear,” she states. Then her eyes widen as her gaze slides over my body.

“And now you’ve seen me in mine.”

She licks her bottom lip, and I swear I can feel that swipe against the underside of my cock. Blood rushes to my dick.

“I’m not used to cowboys barging in on me in the bathroom,” she murmurs.

“I’m not used to having to rescue half-naked women from tiny bugs.”

“He was hardly tiny,” she says, her brow pulled into a frown.

There’s a moment when her gaze drops to my groin.

Yeah, tiny better not be her word of choice.

Especially given that she’s once again licking her lips.

“Daddy?” Clementine’s voice calls from downstairs.

Fuck me.

Why am I even entertaining thoughts like this about my daughter’s nanny?