the live-in temptation early chapters

Please note: The Live-in Temptation deals with topics that may be upsetting for some readers. Should you prefer detailed information in order to have the best reading experience, please click on the content notes below.

Chapter One

Xander

In my professional opinion, fighting a house fire was a hell of a lot easier than getting a four-year-old ready and out the door on time.

I liked to think I was a smart guy who not only faced challenges head on but conquered them. I’d been doing that my entire life. And yet, when faced with the challenge of my daughter’s hair every single morning, I failed. Spectacularly.

“Ow, Daddy! That hurts,” Emma said, her voice thin and watery, which meant she was on the verge of tears.

Something I was, unfortunately, all too familiar with, thanks to my previously mentioned failing.

“Sorry, peanut,” I murmured, my brow furrowed as I stared at the absolute clusterfuck that was her hair. “I don’t understand how you can go to bed with smooth hair and wake up with this.”

It was just yet another unexplained mystery in my new life. The life I’d been blindsided by eleven weeks ago when a social worker had contacted me and told me I had a daughter.

That had knocked me on my ass. The bigger blow? I’d missed the first four years of her life. Which meant the first memory my daughter would always have of me was that I wasn’t there.

As the grown-up version of a kid who had too many of those memories to count, I felt sick thinking Emma would have the same of me.

But I was here now. I was trying. That had to account for something.

Kids had never been part of my plan. After the childhood I’d had with the father I’d been saddled with, I figured it was best for everybody if I stayed out of the gene pool.

Fate, apparently, had had other ideas.

Emma’s mom had been a single weekend of fun—something I rarely allowed myself. But I’d just been promoted to captain and wanted to celebrate. It hadn’t been love by any stretch of the imagination. It had been sex. Pure and simple.

I’d thought Corinne was beautiful and kind and self-deprecatingly funny. But never in the weekend we’d spent together had I thought, yeah, she’d definitely keep my kid from me for four years.

It was a question I desperately wanted an answer to—what was it about me that made her not want to tell me she was having our child? That made her think it would be better to raise Emma alone rather than bothering to give me the most basic courtesy of a goddamn text telling me I was going to be a dad.

Unfortunately, now that Corinne was gone, that question was one that would forever remain a mystery.

The reality was, it didn’t matter why I hadn’t been there. Only that I hadn’t been. And the guilt I felt over abandoning my little girl—unknowingly or not—would sit heavy on my chest for the rest of my life.

I looked down at the catastrophe that was my daughter’s hair and sighed. This was going to have to be good enough. I grabbed the purple hair tie with unicorns on it—her current favorite—in hopes it could save this disaster. Though after this many days and weeks of the same mess, I knew that was futile.

Stepping back, I looked down at her. My beautiful little angel with her big green eyes that matched mine and her round cheeks and her cute little rosebud lips. And then topping it all off was a devil’s disaster of a hairstyle.

Her ponytail was crooked, her hair nowhere near as smooth as it had been last night after her bath. But she still needed breakfast, and I wasn’t even dressed yet, which meant we were out of time. As usual.

“All right, peanut.” I lifted her off the vanity and carried her as I jogged downstairs. “What do you want for breakfast?”

She shrugged while clutching Pinkie, her tattered but still sparkly unicorn, to her chest. I blew out a frustrated sigh because I had a feeling this was going to go like yesterday had. And the day before that. And the week before that. And the month before that.

“Cereal?” I asked. When I got no reaction, I listed off the other items I’d stocked the house with. “Toast, oatmeal, banana, pancakes, yogurt?”

She just shrugged again, as if it didn’t matter. As if I could give her anything at all and she’d eat it. Except I’d already been tricked by that. Several times.

She didn’t like anything I’d offered her for breakfast.

Lunches? No problem. Dinner? I had it down. Okay, I didn’t exactly have it down, but we managed. Cooking boxed pasta and heating up a jar of spaghetti sauce still counted. But breakfast was kicking my ass.

Still, I tried. Every morning, I tried.

I set her down in her chair and pulled out the various breakfast items I’d listed, setting them in front of her like a smorgasbord. When she just sat, shoulders slumped, her tiny little fingers picking at the frayed seams of Pinkie, my heart broke a little.

Every morning when I offered her a variety of food, she looked at me like I’d told her I kicked puppies in my spare time. And I didn’t know what the hell to do about it.

Hanging my head, I blew out a weary sigh, accepted defeat, and strode to the pantry. I bypassed the protein bars—those had been a hard fucking pass from her—oatmeal, and half a dozen other more nutritious options I’d picked up in the vain hope of her finally eating something. Then I plucked the chocolate chip granola bar out of the box and brought it over to her.

She still wasn’t excited about it, but it was the one thing I’d managed to find that she would eat at least half of.

“How about I make you a deal?” I squatted down to her level, holding up the granola bar between us like a peace offering.

She glanced at me with a spark of interest in her gaze. It wasn’t much, but after the forlorn, my-daddy-kicks-puppies-in-his-spare-time sad eyes, I’d take it.

“If you eat the whole thing, we can have pizza for dinner and watch Frozen again. Sound good?”

She perked up. “Can Pinkie have a piece too?”

“Of course. You know Pinkie gets grumpy when she’s not fed.”

“Okay.” Emma took a tentative bite of the granola bar—which was really just a candy bar, let’s be honest—chewing as if it were as flavorful as sawdust.

But still, she ate.

When I was satisfied she’d continue when I was out of sight, I stood to my full height and headed for the stairs. “I’m going to change while you eat, peanut. We have to hurry to get to Mimi’s because we’re late.” Muttering under my breath, I added, “Again.”

I fucking hated being late. I had always been a punctual guy. But since Emma had come into my life, I hadn’t been on time once. Not even once. It didn’t matter how much I prepared for our departure, something always popped up. Spilled juice that required an outfit change, a last-minute potty emergency, the morning she’d insisted on counting every step from her bedroom to the front door—twice.

This morning, it had been missing shoes that held us up. Except it wasn’t a single pair that had vanished. No, it was one of each.

Fortunately, the remaining shoes I could find were opposites, so she had one for each foot. Unfortunately, one of those was a winter boot and the other was a sneaker.

I glanced at my watch and muttered a curse as I bundled her in her winter coat, hat, and mittens. Then I scooped Emma into my arms, grabbed my keys off the counter, and dashed out the front door.

Late January in Maine meant it was still mostly dark outside, just a hint of the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. The neighborhood was still quiet, thankfully, not even—

“Well, good morning, neighbor!” Mabel—my mom’s book club buddy, Starlight Cove’s sex toy dealer, and my too-nosy-for-her-own-damn-good neighbor—called from across the street. She wore her husband’s winter boots and a housecoat, her gray hair done up in rollers. “You’re looking a little worn down there, Chief.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

I’d felt lucky when this house had come on the market at just the right time, but that had been before I’d realized who would be living across the street. I swore that woman set an alarm every morning just so she could witness my failures.

“And Emma, you’re looking very adventurous today. Love the style choices!” Mabel’s words rang with sincerity, but I couldn’t help but feel them as a reminder of just how far out of my depth I was.

Adventurous wasn’t exactly what I would call it. More like disastrous. Catastrophic. A complete fucking mess.

And it wasn’t even seven a.m.

* * *

I wasn’t an arrogant guy. I was confident in my abilities, yes, but I wasn’t ever cocky about it.

Or I hadn’t thought so.

But when I’d transferred from the Chicago Fire Department to Starlight Cove’s, I had to admit I thought it was going to be an easy change.

Statistically speaking, Starlight Cove had a minuscule number of calls compared to what I was used to on any given shift in Chicago. True, I hadn’t been the fire chief while tackling those calls, but I thought I’d been prepared for that shift, considering the much smaller activity level here.

But now, after weeks in my new position back in my hometown, I could admit I was a complete fucking idiot.

This morning alone, I’d had to break up a heated discussion about which shift got to decorate the station’s float for the St. Paddy’s Day parade, discovered someone had “borrowed” one of the trucks to hang a Welcome to Retirement sign for Buster Thompson’s party, and spent forty-five minutes trying to figure out why the hell there was a goat tied to our flagpole.

I wasn’t used to dealing with all this…shit.

A knock sounded, and I glanced up from the paperwork spread across my desk to find Ford McKenzie leaning against the doorjamb. He was several years younger than me, having graduated with my youngest brother, Lincoln, so we hadn’t been close. But I couldn’t lie and say it hadn’t been nice to see a friendly face my first day on the job.

“Ford, what can I do for you?” I asked.

He pushed off from the frame and strode toward me. “I got volunteered to tell you we’re not usually this incompetent.” Grinning, he took a seat in the chair across from me and leaned back without a care in the world. As if he hadn’t just walked through a glitter explosion in the firehouse. “Who would have thought Stage Two meant something completely different in Chicago?”

Blowing out a heavy sigh, I tossed my pen onto the desk. “This is a fire station. It makes a hell of a lot more sense for that phrase to mean a two-story structure fire simulation than ‘untangle string lights and find every bottle of glitter within a three-mile radius,’ don’t you think?”

Ford chuckled. “You would think. But this crew gets a little eager when we prep for festivals. Chief Brambert always bought a case of beer to whoever managed to untangle last year’s lights the fastest without swearing, so they’re invested.”

“Would you say you’re all very familiar with these festivals, then?”

“Definitely. Probably more familiar than we should be.”

I braced my elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “And yet, not a single one of the grown-ass adults in this station wondered why the hell I’d order festival prep eight weeks early.”

He cringed. “Not our best move. But to be fair, Mabel did just send an email with that exact phrase—capital S, capital T.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand down my face. Of fucking course my menace of a neighbor was behind this clusterfuck.

“Other than this little shitstorm, you settling in okay?” he asked.

No, I absolutely wasn’t. Because it wasn’t just the Stage Two miscommunication. It had also been the inspection paperwork I’d forgotten to sign and the training schedule I thought I’d posted but never actually did and the rookie I’d snapped at for something that was probably my fault in the first place.

It was the fact that I couldn’t remember the goddamn radio codes without double-checking the binder, and apparently the dispatch ladies thought I was mad at them every time I opened my mouth.

That wasn’t even delving into the personal side of things, where there was an entire truck’s worth of more bullshit I hadn’t yet figured out, no matter how hard I tried.

Somehow, I thought I’d be able to make it work with a group of adults looking to me—the guy who’d had to send his daughter to preschool in mismatched shoes—for guidance. I’d figured coming back home was the smart move. The safe move. But it was turning out to be just more proof I was fucking this up.

I hadn’t committed a lot of fuckups in my life, and I could officially say I wasn’t a fan.

“I’m not sure settling is the word I’d use,” I muttered. “Or okay, for that matter.”

“You’ll get it. Just gotta give it some time. Chief Brambert was here for decades, and everyone’s used to how he did things. Plus, I think everybody assumed the promotion would come from in-house—someone we already had a relationship with. So there’s gonna be an adjustment period.”

I snapped my gaze to his, trying to get a read on his expression, but it was the same laid-back, never-bothered look he always had about him. “Shit, man, did I step on toes around here? Were you hoping—”

“God, no.” Ford lifted a hand and shook his head. “No, not yet anyway. If Brambert had stuck around for another five or ten years, maybe. But now’s not a good time for Quinn and me—with kids and everything.”

I blinked at him, searching my memory for any mention of Ford and his wife having kids and coming up empty. “You have kids?”

“Not yet.” He grinned widely. “But we’re trying. Just want to make sure all my focus is on that, you know?”

“Right,” I said, while internally I was second—third…fourth…fifth—guessing my move here and the change in position that had come along with it.

Because Ford’s only thing he needed to be focused on was fucking his wife. And even then, he didn’t want the distraction of being chief to interfere with that.

Meanwhile, I was the sole responsible party for a little girl I’d helped create but hadn’t known three months ago. A little girl who’d just lost her mother and was thrust into a brand-new world with strangers. A little girl who was going to weekly therapy sessions in hopes of helping her work through the trauma she’d experienced in her short life.

But yeah, sure, pile chief duties on top of that.

What a fucking idiot.

When diving into single fatherhood, I’d known I wouldn’t always make the right choice, but I’d hoped I’d make the sensible one. The trouble was, I thought this was it. Moving back home so I could be close to family—so Emma could be close to family—had seemed like a no-brainer. Especially when my mom had told me the chief position had opened up.

But right now, sitting here with a tally of fuckups under my belt for the day—split equally between work and home—I didn’t feel like a chief. And I sure as hell didn’t feel like much of a father.

All I felt like was a man barely holding his life together with duct tape and string, hoping no one noticed exactly how frayed the edges were.

* * *

After a long-ass day—and three hours later than planned—I unlocked my front door and slipped into the dim, nearly silent house, my mom’s subtle perfume hanging in the air. While that should have comforted me, all it seemed to do was remind me I was failing.

One of the other main reasons I’d taken the chief job was that the schedule was far more reasonable than I’d had as a firefighter. But I’d come to realize that Chief Brambert had worked long, unsustainable hours—no doubt one of the reasons his wife had forced him into an early retirement.

Stepping into his shoes meant a lot of adjustments, as well as shifting and moving pieces that couldn’t always be planned for. Which also meant there were many days when I didn’t get off work on time. Or even close to on time.

I toed off my boots and strode into the living room, finding Emma and my mom on the couch. Mom was running a gentle hand over Emma’s hair as my daughter slept, her head resting in my mom’s lap, her tattered unicorn plushie clutched to her chest.

“She was waiting up for you,” Mom said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Said she wanted to make sure Daddy got home safe.”

A knot lodged itself in my throat, and I cleared it, trying to force it down. Of course she’d been worried—her mom had been there one day and gone the next. And here I was, walking through the door hours late, probably confirming her worst fears. Christ, I was screwing this up in so many ways, I was starting to lose count.

“I’ll take her up,” I said, my voice gruff.

I scooped Emma into my arms before heading toward the stairs and up to her bedroom. It was hard to believe someone who weighed next to nothing had settled something so heavy on my shoulders. Something that felt like the weight of the entire fucking world.

I laid her down on her pink sheets and covered her with the unicorn blanket she’d picked out. When Emma had first come to stay with me, the social worker had suggested it might help my daughter with the adjustment if she picked out something herself for her new room.

But it turned out it didn’t matter which bedroom set I purchased or the color of her bedding or how many stuffed animals filled the space to make it less lonely.

We were both still floundering.

The difference, though, was that I was supposed to have my shit together. I was the adult in this situation, and she was just a scared little girl who was looking to me to make everything better.

I stared down at her—at this tiny little peanut I was somehow in charge of. And though I’d been at it for months, I was still in over my head, screwing it up day after day. Every night, I promised myself tomorrow would be the day I finally got it right, knowing deep down I was nowhere near the father she needed.

I swept the hair back from her face, tucked the covers under her chin, and leaned down to brush a kiss across her forehead before slipping out of her room.

Mom was sitting in the same place I’d left her, an understanding smile on her face. “Rough day?”

Breathing out a sigh, I dropped down onto the couch, resting my head back on the cushions. “More like rough week. Sorry you had to stick around so late.”

She made a dismissive sound and patted my knee. “You know I never mind staying. I missed the first four years of that little angel’s life, so I’m going to soak up as much as I can now.”

“I know. But I also know you have your own life.”

She hummed. “Speaking of… I know this isn’t an ideal time, considering the day you’ve had, but I’m afraid it can’t wait any longer.”

“What?” I asked, wariness heavy in my tone.

She tipped her head toward the open laptop sitting on the coffee table. The headline Hiring a Live-In Nanny was bold and prominent on the page.

“No,” I said without hesitation. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

My mom blew out a breath and hit me with her I wish you would just listen to me for once in your life stare. “And here I thought Declan was my dramatic one.”

“He is. And I’m not being dramatic. I’m being firm.”

“Well, you’re going to have to unfirm yourself, honey. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you since I’ve told you repeatedly, but I go back to full-time hours at work next week.”

“Fuck,” I said on an exhale and closed my eyes.

“Yeah, fuck. And my schedule at the library is as unpredictable as yours is at the firehouse. Some days, I’ll be able to drop off or pick up Emma from preschool, or stay here with her until you get home, but not every day. In fact, not most days.”

My chest tightened, the pressure of having to figure it out bearing down. “I’ll handle it.”

She hummed and stood from the couch. After shrugging into her coat, she pinned me with a stare that looked an awful lot like pity. “You are so much like your older brother.”

Atlas had his shit together more than most people and always took care of what needed taking care of, so that was a win in my book.

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment,” she said dryly. “You and Atlas are both hardheaded and stubborn and think you need to take care of everything on your own. But isn’t that the entire reason you moved home in the first place? So you wouldn’t have to?”

Yeah. It was. But there was something very different from my family helping with Emma and having a literal stranger move in to my house.

“Just take a look at it.” Shooting another glance at the open laptop, she hooked her purse over her shoulder and unlocked the door. “And, Xander? Don’t wait.”

The door shut softly behind her, leaving the house in silence. But there was nothing calm about the bomb she just dropped. For weeks, my mom had been dancing around my hiring some help, but she’d never come right out and told me I needed a nanny. And not just any nanny, but a live-in nanny? Someone here in our space when Emma and I were still trying to find our rhythm?

My gut told me it wasn’t a good idea, and a quick glance at the website confirmed as much. I closed out of the tab without a moment’s hesitation before shutting the laptop.

I’d figure this out. I didn’t know how I was going to do that or what it would look like when I did. What I did know was I was that little girl’s sole remaining parent. I didn’t take that responsibility lightly.

And I sure as hell wasn’t going to pawn it off on somebody else.

Chapter two

Chloe

Normally, when I’d already been in a place for six weeks, I started to get the itch. That ever-present hum under my skin that encouraged me to move—to flee, if I was being honest. I’d lived a lot of places in my twenty-eight years, and I’d never, without exception, been drawn to actually stay.

Which was why the lack of that buzz under my skin was…odd.

Though, I had to admit, Starlight Cove, Maine, was one of the cutest places I’d lived in recent or even distant memory. It could have been the picturesque downtown that looked straight out of a Hallmark movie, or the fact that I could step outside my front door and hear the ocean waves crashing against the shore, or that this town was also the home to my longest-lasting friend.

Regardless, I wasn’t dying to leave. Not yet anyway. And that was a hard feat, especially in the winter. This was when I stayed in a place for the longest stretch of time. It was also when I tended to feel that buzz to leave the hardest.

But I was settling in here in my space. Finding short-term housing was always my biggest hurdle when moving to a new town, and this had been no different. Fortunately, said longest-lasting friend had come through for me.

Luna had somehow managed to sweet-talk Brady, her grumpy sheriff of a husband, into allowing me to shack up in their backyard cottage. Well, it was less of a cottage and more of a she-shed.

Okay, it was actually just a shed.

But it was cute, and the rent was a big fat zero, so it couldn’t get much better than that.

And sure, it didn’t have walls per se, but it did have fairy lights. And the tapestry I’d hung above the futon really warmed up the place. Well, that and the space heater.

Yeah, I only had a hot plate to cook on, and yeah, I had to run into the main house anytime I needed to use the bathroom—thank God I had a bladder of steel. But in a town this small, the number of people clamoring for a massage therapist wasn’t exactly sizable, which meant my rent budget was firmly in ramen-and-vibes territory.

Since Luna had already established herself as the massage therapist/yoga instructor in town, my clients were few and far between. So that big fat zero I paid to rent this place looked pretty damn good.

But even besides rent, this girl had bills. And I needed to figure out how to pay them.

I sat on a floor pillow in front of the shed’s single window. The sheer scarves I used as curtains were pulled back, giving me an unobstructed view of the full moon—aka the perfect time for my tried-and-true abundance spell.

After smoke-cleansing the space, I placed my smoldering mugwort and lavender bundle in a glass dish on the window ledge. Then I grabbed my green aventurine and citrine crystals, placing one in each palm, and rested my upturned hands on my knees.

Sitting up straight, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, imagining the life I wanted—full of love and laughter and abundance. Where money was never an issue because it constantly flowed to me. Opportunities came to me around every corner. So many, I was able to pick and choose my favorites—only the ones I was most drawn to. The ones that would be the best fit.

And hell…since this was an abundance spell, I could also do with an abundance of orgasms. Preferably given not by my trusty silicone friend but by an actual man who knew what he was doing.

A man who had muscles for days and eyes that could see into your soul and a filthy mouth that could make even Mabel blush. A man who loved going down, who wasn’t intimidated by a battery-operated enhancement tool and wanted to tag team me with one. And last but not least, a man with an abundance of coc—

A burst of heat swept over me, and my lips twitched. Damn right it was getting hot in here. It had been far too long since a man had had the pleasure of my company. Maybe a little too long, if the increasing waves of heat rolling through my body were anything to go by.

Good lord, I didn’t think I was that hard up.

My nose twitched as the scent of something smoky hit my nostrils. As if someone was having a bonfire. Not unusual, since the shed didn’t have insulation. Or walls. But jeez, this was really strong. And since my thoughts had been derailed from the faceless hottie who was going to rock my world, my body shouldn’t be this heated.

I loosened my grip on the crystals and fluttered open my eyes. Only to come face-to-face with a fucking inferno.

“Oh shit!” I jumped up from the floor, spinning in a circle and looking for something—anything—to smother the fire currently licking up the sheer scarf I’d bought in Marrakesh. “Oh god, oh my fuck, oh sweet sparkling Moses!”

The shrill blare of the smoke detector cut through the otherwise quiet night, and I swore under my breath. Brady was definitely not going to be happy if I burned down his shed.

I grabbed a blanket—thankfully not from Marrakesh—and swatted at the flames. In a perfect situation, I would have doused the fabric with water to help smother the fire. But also, in a perfect situation, I wouldn’t have been dwelling in a garden shed that didn’t have running water.

That was when I remembered it did have a fire extinguisher!

Brady hadn’t been happy when Luna had asked if I could move in, but she’d worked some kind of magic—I was putting my money on something having to do with sex—that got him to agree. His two sticking points had been that the shed needed a smoke detector and a fire extinguisher.

Honestly, I could kiss that man! I wouldn’t—because, you know, boundaries—but I was definitely going to do a spell for him so he got everything his heart desired.

Just as soon as I put out this fire.

I fumbled with the fire extinguisher as the alarm blared—which absolutely was not helping my focus. Finally figuring out how to work the damn thing, I directed the nozzle at my once-beautiful sheer scarves, now completely overcome by flames, and sprayed.

While it probably took all of 3.7 seconds for the fire to be extinguished, it felt more like 3.7 years. My heartbeat thudded wildly in my ears, and a haze of smoke filled the shed, which triggered a coughing fit. Now that the adrenaline wasn’t thrumming through my veins as aggressively as it had been, my eyes and lungs began to sting.

I threw open the door and stumbled outside into the snow, breathing in deep lungfuls of clean air. Jesusfuck, that was a close call.

Thank god Brady had insisted on the extinguisher. And thank god I’d been able to figure out how to use the thing. More than that, thank god nobody had called the fire depart—

The wail of a siren pierced the cold January night, and I groaned toward the sky. Apparently, I could escape the fire but not the fallout. I was just grateful Luna had taken the grumpy sheriff to a full moon sound bath, so at least they weren’t here to witness this.

Flashing lights from the fire truck swept over me, illuminating the smoke pouring out the shed’s door. The engine rolled to a stop, the siren cutting off mid-wail before both doors flew open and out stepped firefighters coming to my rescue.

And honest to god, if I’d had a gun held to my head, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you a single thing about who had stepped down from the passenger side. Not when all of my attention was focused on Gruff Mr. Hottie Pants, who came stalking toward me like I’d parked in a fire lane.

Damn, the Universe was working fast on this one. When I asked for more abundance in the dick department, I figured that was all I’d get. Instead, saucy Ms. Universe delivered this guy to me, who appeared to be abundant in every department—from his dark, shampoo-commercial hair that was tousled and yet somehow perfectly coiffed, to his piercing green eyes, those full lips, and that beard that was just enough to tickle me in all the right places.

And then there was his body.

Good god. Even beneath all his gear, I could see he was built. I didn’t know what sort of fitness regimen firefighters were engaging in, but apparently they’d started lifting cars in their downtime.

“You did real good this time, Universe,” I murmured. “I forgive you for ruining my Marrakesh scarves.”

“Miss, I’m going to need you to step away from the shed,” he said, his tone low and gruff and commanding.

So fucking commanding.

And, hell yeah, I’d let him boss me around in the bedroom if he did so in that voice. Put me on my knees and tell me to open up, Daddy.

“Don’t worry, I already put out the fire,” I said, swatting a hand through the smoke still pouring out of the shed. “It was really more of just a sparky misunderstanding anyway. I’m afraid my scarves from Marrakesh couldn’t be saved, though. Which is a real shame because it definitely livened up the space. Made it a little more homey, you know?”

My Favorite Mistake in Uniform narrowed his gaze on me, eyeing me from head to toe. And it was only then that I realized I was out here in my fox slippers, indecently tiny pajama shorts, and a sweatshirt two sizes too big that read, Manifest this, bitch.

“What do you mean ‘more homey’?” he asked. Or barked, really. “Are you living here?”

“Define ‘living’… I prefer to call it thriving.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and it sent a shiver straight down my spine. “Are you sleeping here?”

“Definitely. Well, I’m trying to anyway. Luna and the sheriff can get a little loud, if you know what I mean. And these walls aren’t exactly soundproof. Or insulated.”

His expression hardened even more, and I’d never been more grateful for my thick sweatshirt than I was right now. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood to be assaulted by my nipples that were currently trying to cut their way through the fabric just to get closer to him.

Stepping around me, he poked his head into the shed, his scowl somehow deepening when he looked back at me. And just why in the ever-loving fuck did that make my pussy tingle? “You don’t even have walls. You have studs covered in plywood.”

I waved a hand through the air. “Semantics.”

He stood to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest, providing a very delectable image. Good god, this was how all quality porn should start. And I volunteered as tribute for the Starlight Cove rendition of Stop, Drop, and Rail Me.

“I’m not sure who told you this was suitable for a living space, but a garden shed is not zoned for a dwelling.” He glanced toward the main house, his eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised the sheriff let you do it.”

“‘Let’ is a bit misleading. He may have been persuaded by his wife.” I held up my hands and shook my head. “I didn’t ask for details, but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the sudden lack of honey in the house.”

His lips didn’t so much as twitch as he glowered down at me, and hooooo boy, I wanted that mean mug focused on me while he ordered me to come again. “Fortunately, one of us who’s in charge doesn’t have a wife.”

A fact I was definitely noting for future reference.

“And as the fire chief, I say you living here is illegal. If you don’t find another place to reside by the end of the week, I’ll evict you myself.”

Well, that was a bucket of ice water on my libido.

“Wow. Okay. So, we’re not doing the whole small-town welcome wagon thing.” I crossed my arms over my chest and tipped my head to the side as I studied him. “Are you always this charming, or do I have my abundance spell to thank for it oozing out of you?”

He pressed his mouth into a firm line, his nostrils flaring as he gave me a slow once-over. And, yes, that look absolutely made me shiver, but I was no longer entertaining any kind of funny business with this man. Not when he was fully committed to being the villain of my cottagecore origin story.

“By the end of the week, chaos.” He stepped close until he towered over me, his voice pitching low and scattering a rush of goose bumps across my skin. “I mean it.”

And then he walked away, all dominance and disapproval, and it was a sight to behold. Even with all the layers covering him, I knew I’d love what he had underneath it all. Too bad the stick up his ass wouldn’t allow any fun to happen between us.

“Cool, cool, cool,” I called after him. “Love this journey for me.”

With one last scowl in my direction, he climbed back into the truck, his gaze locked on me through the windshield. He might’ve been an ass, but being on the receiving end of that glower and his I’m going to ruin you and you’re going to like it vibe? Ten out of ten, would recommend.

Chapter three

Xander

My week didn’t get any better. In fact, it had somehow gotten worse.

Emma still wouldn’t eat any of the options I provided for breakfast, I still couldn’t find her damn missing shoes, and I still didn’t know how the hell to do her hair. Not to mention, I wasn’t on solid ground at the station yet either.

I felt like a lost cause. But I refused to give up, and I refused to give in. Neither was in my wheelhouse.

In Chicago, fire chief duties had meant coordinating multi-alarm fire responses, handling arson investigations, and fielding press conferences at a moment’s notice. Here in Starlight Cove? It meant chasing down a raccoon that broke in to the station’s snack stash, approving marshmallow-roasting proximity limits at the annual Let It Burn Bash, and making sure the undeniably hot—and also undeniably unhinged—tourist didn’t burn down the shed she’d made a temporary home.

But that was a problem I’d tackle once I got to the station. First, I needed to drop Emma at my mom’s.

I opened the back door, guiding Emma in ahead of me, and glanced around. Mom stood at the stove flipping pancakes, while my younger brothers, Declan and Lincoln, sat at the breakfast nook. Even though they’d probably both slept less than five hours last night, they looked a hell of a lot more well rested than I did. And I had no doubt they were going to remind me of as much. I couldn’t fucking wait until they hit their late thirties.

“Good morning,” my mom said over her shoulder, smiling at Emma and me.

Emma scrambled out of her mismatched shoes before running over to my mom and crashing into her legs with a tight hug. “Hi, Mimi!”

“Hi, angel. Did you eat for Daddy this morning?” Mom glanced up at me, and I gave one firm shake of my head and ran a tired hand down my face. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that, should we?”

Mom pulled up a stool to the counter and guided Emma up, instructing her on how to help with the pancakes. And my brothers didn’t waste any time digging into me.

“Jesus.” Lincoln gave me a quick once-over, his brows pitching higher as he went. “You look like a walking cautionary tale, man.”

“He’s not lying,” Declan muttered from where he scribbled what looked like an open book with flowers growing out of it on a napkin. “When’s the last time your hair saw a goddamn brush?”

“Today, dickhead,” I snapped. Though, I did run a hand through my hair, because I couldn’t remember if I’d actually done that this morning or not. I was just lucky I hadn’t shown up in what I’d worn to bed. Again.

Lincoln raised a brow and lifted his coffee mug to his lips. “You finally gonna stop playing martyr and hire someone like Mom’s been telling you to? Or are you just hoping caffeine and shame will carry you through to graduation?”

I stared at my pain-in-the-ass youngest brother, my jaw ticking as I bit back the slew of curses I wanted to lob his way. In the end, I just said, “Emma’s four. I think we’ll be fine by the time we get to graduation.”

“It’s not graduation we’re worried about,” Lincoln said. “It’s now.”

“I’m handling it,” I snapped, ending the discussion.

Or so I’d hoped.

Unfortunately for me, my brothers didn’t give a fuck about my cues. Gave even less about leaving me the hell alone.

Declan snorted but didn’t bother lifting his eyes from his sketch. “You’re not handling shit. I’ve seen you adjust to a propane tank explosion faster than you are to this.”

Yeah, well, that was because I had actual training in dealing with a propane tank explosion. And I’d had exactly zero in the way of training for a child before my daughter was dropped on my doorstep.

So, yeah. It was taking me a little fucking time to adjust.

“I said I was figuring it out.” I glanced at Emma, who sat at the eat-in island, enthralled in a book Mom had brought home from the library and—thank fucking god—eating a pancake. “I’m not going to pass her off on to somebody else just because it’s difficult.”

Mom cleared her throat, set an empty mug down in front of me, and filled it with coffee. “No one’s telling you to pass her off on to someone. We’re just trying to look out for you. Between this and the new job and me going back to work full time, you’re on a one-way track to bleeding yourself dry. And you can’t pour from an empty cup, honey.”

“Listen to her, for fuck’s sake,” Declan grumbled.

Lincoln lifted his glass in a salute. “Can’t argue with a wise woman.”

“I didn’t come over to get ganged up on by my entire family.”

“That’s not what’s happening,” Lincoln said. “Atlas isn’t even here.”

As if Linc had summoned our eldest brother, the back door swung open. Atlas stepped inside, all six-foot-six of him brimming with irritation, his signature game-day scowl already firmly in place.

I didn’t have time to hide the dried applesauce on my hoodie or the disastrous state of Emma’s hair or the fact that there were two different tiny shoes by the back door because he clocked it all in a nanosecond.

After sweeping the space, he glanced at each of us in turn, his brow raised. “This is what morning looks like now?”

“Yeah,” Declan said dryly. “It’s been a real treat.”

Atlas didn’t crack a smile, though that was nothing new. In fact, the only time I’d seen his lips so much as twitch usually involved one of three people—his new girlfriend, Sutton, her daughter, Laurel, or my daughter. Who knew Brick Wall had a soft spot? One thing I did know was that I sure as hell wasn’t included in that group.

He poured himself a cup of coffee then leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms as he took a sip from his mug. Finally, he said, “Still trying to prove something nobody has asked you to, huh?”

I stiffened at the same time Lincoln whistled lowly under his breath.

“Direct hit,” he muttered.

As if I needed the reminder when I’d felt that hit in my chest.

Before I could tell Atlas where to shove his nonexistent expertise, he continued, “And while you’re doing that, the only time you’re spending with your daughter is full of tension.”

I darted my gaze to Emma, who was still engrossed in her new book. Completely oblivious to the impromptu intervention my entire family had decided to spring on me. I didn’t need a goddamn lecture, and I sure as hell didn’t need a guilt trip.

What I needed was five fucking minutes when it didn’t feel like I was drowning.

But if there was one thing I’d come to know in my thirty-eight years, it was that my older brother didn’t speak unless it was important. He didn’t sugarcoat things, but he also rarely missed.

Blowing out a deep sigh, I scrubbed a hand over my face. Then, quietly, I admitted, “I feel like I’m failing her if I bring in someone else to help.”

“Yeah? And have you felt like you’ve been winning these past few weeks when you haven’t?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Not when the truth hit harder than I wanted to admit.

No, I absolutely wasn’t winning. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I was white-knuckling my way through every day, just fucking hoping I didn’t drop a ball I couldn’t afford to. Pushing through the exhaustion and defeat. Failing more than I wanted her to see.

“Daddy!” Emma called, the name still a shock to my system. “I read this whole page! Right, Mimi?” She grinned up at my mom, and my heart broke a little more.

Because Atlas was right.

That was how I wanted to spend my time with my daughter—reading with her and coloring with her and playing with her, instead of being swamped with laundry and cooking and cleaning and the long list of other things I’d had no idea even needed to be taken care of but now fell solely on my shoulders.

They were right. I did need help.

Now I just had to figure out where to find it.

* * *

Group text with Mom, Atlas, Xander, Declan, and Lincoln

1:47 p.m.

Xander:

Fine.

Lincoln:

Thanks, I put a lot of effort into my hair this morning. Glad you noticed.

Xander:

I mean, fine, I’ll hire someone. You dipshit.

Lincoln:

Idk man. One of us went to work with some mysterious dried food on his shirt. Seems like the clear dipshit in this situation ain’t me.

Xander:

Whatever. I get it. Emma and I need help.

Declan:

You do for sure

Xander:

Jesus, I should’ve just texted Mom instead of all of you asshats. Or Sutton. They would’ve helped.

Atlas:

My girlfriend doesn’t need to help you with your problems.

Lincoln added Sutton and Laurel to this text group

Lincoln:

Too late. And I figured this situation called for Little L’s sass too.

Atlas:

Goddammit, you asshole. Her daughter doesn’t need to worry about your shit either.

Laurel:

This better be important

I’m in class

Lincoln:

It is. Xander said he needs help.

Laurel:

So he wants like therapist recs orrrrr???????

Xander:

Thanks a lot for this, Linc.

Lincoln:

You can always count on me.

Sutton:

Is there an actual emergency or are you guys just fucking around? The clinic is slammed today.

Atlas:

Ignore my idiot brothers, trouble. You too, kid. Focus on work and school, and I’ll deal with this bullshit.

Declan:

Someone deal with the bullshit so I can stop getting these notifications.

Mom:

Oh, honey! I’m so glad you finally came around!!! Tell us what you’re looking for in a nanny so we can help!

Declan:

Yeah, Xan. Definitely tell us what you’ve always looked for in a nanny.

Xander:

Quit being a fucking pervert. Laurel’s on this thread.

Laurel:

I’m sixteen not six. And I read plenty of spicy books that your mom actually keeps me stocked in. I’m fully aware of the single dad nanny trope.

Xander:

This isn’t a fucking single dad and nanny trope romance book.

Lincoln:

DUDE. You should read one! I’m not even joking. Mom hooked me up. I can’t believe we’ve been sleeping on romances this whole time. Wtf was I even doing with my life??

Atlas:

I haven’t been sleeping on shit. Been reading and learning from those books for years.

Sutton:

Can confirm.

Laurel:

Don’t be gross

But also read the books guys

Because you all seem pretty dumb when it comes to women

Daddy Grump included

Atlas:

Thought I was getting better?

Laurel:

Just because you’re not drowning doesn’t mean you’re Michael Phelps

Lincoln:

Brutal.

Laurel:

You’re no better

Should I roast you next?

Lincoln:

Don’t you have school right now?

Laurel:

Yep so I’m muting this

Mom:

So we’re looking for someone who will play and be silly with Emma, right? And they should be fun and love little kids, obviously!! Someone laid-back who can take things as they come would also be a perk!

Declan:

Definitely. Especially if they’re going to be dealing with Xander and the two by four lodged up his ass.

Xander:

Thanks, everyone. Appreciate the help.

Sutton:

Ignore your brothers. I’ll put out some feelers at the clinic.

Mom:

I’ll do the same at the library, honey! We’ll find someone perfect. Don’t you worry!!!!

This title will be releasing into Kindle Unlimited which means it will be exclusive to Amazon as of September 4th. If you wish to read elsewhere, you will need to pre-order in my shop where the e-book, audiobook, and bundle are available.