Page 17 of Big Trouble

As a single dad, running a ranch, I don’t have time to get laid. Even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. Or at least I didn’t until Winnie walked into my life. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. With her. In every position imaginable.

“Everybody knows that you can’t sleep with the nanny,” I say.

“If you’re a married man, you can’t sleep with the nanny. But you’re not married. So there’s no reason you can’t sleep with her,” Bryant says.

“Okay, well, how about this reason… Clementine adores her. If I sleep with Winnie and it ends badly, Clementine will never forgive me. I can’t break my baby’s heart like that.”

“Why are you assuming it would end badly?”

That question is still ringing in my ear when we both go back out and get into the pool. I covertly twist Brigg’s nipples and give him a death glare while growling “hands off my nanny,” quietly to him.

The rest of the time, I do my best not to stare too much at Winnie and the way her bikini molds to her curves lest I get an erection in front of my entire family.

chapter

nine

Official Rules for Wind from the East Nanny Service

Rule #8: Nannies will not conduct personal business while on duty.

Brody’s take away: That better not be a vibrator I hear her using.

Brody

I’m brushing my teeth when I first hear it. A low humming. Not like a person humming a tune, no, this was a distinctive mechanical hum.

I glance up at the ceiling as if I’m going to be able to see through it to what is going on upstairs.

A steady, rhythmic buzz.

It isn’t loud—just consistent. Buzz, buzz, buzz… With little pauses.

Like something turning on and off in short bursts.

I freeze, toothbrush dangling from my mouth. As I focus on the noise to try to decipher the cause.

My brain, traitorous bastard that it is, offers up an image of Winnie spread out in her bed, eyes closed, mouth parted, hands between those thick thighs⁠—

“Jesus Christ.” I spit into the sink, then rinse my mouth. Closing my eyes, I try to rid my mind of that unbelievably erotic image. I shake my head in an attempt to erase the mental fantasy of my daughter’s nanny pleasuring herself.

But nope. It’s like it’s burned into my brain.

Awesome. That won’t be awkward next time I see her.

Buzz. Pause. Buzz.

My ears are so attuned at the moment, I swear I can hear her little sighs of pleasure.

Look, I’m no prude. I’ve lived a whole life. I know women have toys, and I don’t care what someone does behind a closed door.

But technically, this is a work situation, and I certainly wouldn’t allow an employee to get off at their desk. What if Clementine goes up to Winnie’s room because she needs something? I can’t let my daughter walk into a situation like that.

This woman… I swear to Christ she’s going to be the death of me.

Prancing around the pool in that polka dot bikini, smiling and laughing with my brothers. Bastards, all of them.

Walking around in yoga pants that look sprayed on.