A Very Merry Nanny (Very Merry #2)

Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

HUDSON

E xhaustion covers me like a heavy blanket. Work on the farm was relentless today, each task piling onto the last. I barely had a moment to breathe.

I can't recall how many trees I loaded and unloaded, but my biceps ache, a reminder of the labor demanded by the season.

Two large diesel trucks arrived to pick up an order for a big-box store, and once again, we found ourselves short-handed. At the beginning of the year, I planned to hire more employees because this situation has become a problem. I've been running around like a chicken with its head cut off, and so have my brothers, each of us caught in the whirlwind of our responsibilities. This chaotic pace won’t end until two days before Christmas.

Part of me wants to skip ahead a few weeks, but that would mean sacrificing precious time with Emma, especially since she's mine this season.

The New Year’s Eve deadline looms ahead, casting a shadow of pressure, but I’m doing what she asked and considering the possibility of being with her. I already know my answer; I’ve known it for months, but I’m honoring her request to give it some thought.

The pros certainly outweigh the cons, yet those cons threaten me and Colby's privacy. It’s a life-altering decision, and I’m prioritizing Colby’s well-being over my desires. I have to. However, Jake hasn't had any issues being with Claire, other than the rumors and speculation online. But it's easy to turn that off.

As I drive home, a grin slides across my lips knowing Emma is partly responsible for keeping me up later than usual. I’m not complaining. I cherish every fleeting second I'm lucky enough to spend with her.

When I finally step into the house, music blares from the TV. Emma and Colby are dancing around the kitchen, wearing whimsical aprons and chef hats. Their lively voices sing along to Kidz Bop.

A smile that feels almost permanent stretches across my face as I watch them shout the lyrics at the top of their lungs, lost in their own world.

Emma turns, catching a glimpse of me, and her grin widens even further, lighting up her face. She waves me over, her foot tapping along to the beat, her energy infectious and she doesn’t miss a single word of the song.

“Daddy!” Colby exclaims, extending his arms toward me, a beacon of innocence. I lift him up, feeling the warmth radiate from his small body, as he and Emma continue to sing at each other. They make goofy faces that send me into a fit of laughter. I’m only sad that I don’t know the lyrics well enough to join in on their sing-along.

When the song finally ends, Emma gracefully moves to the TV to turn the volume down before the next track begins.

“How was your day?” I ask Colby as I set him down, his little chef hat perched precariously on his head.

“Emma almost shit herself at the deli!” he exclaims, shaking his head as if reliving the chaos. “It was wild.”

“Hey, we don’t say that word,” I reply, glancing at Emma with my brows arched in mild concern.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you all about it later,” she says, her hand grazing across my back in a brief yet electric touch.

“What are you cookin'?” I ask them, taking in the sight of flour scattered across the counter, a testament to their culinary chaos. The kitchen is an absolute disaster, but it’s one filled with warmth and happiness. Plus, the food smells incredible.

“Chicken fried steak and gravy,” Colby proudly announces. “I asked for it.”

My brows furrow as I glance at Emma. “You did not have to make him that. I planned burgers tonight.”

“Not a big deal. It's been fun,” she says, flipping one of the steaks with the tongs in her hand. The sizzle of the meat against the hot skillet fills the air, mingling with the hearty aroma wafting from the kitchen.

“You knew how to cook this?” I ask, moving closer to the skillet, the heat radiating against my skin.

“Nope,” she says with a nod, a playful sparkle in her eyes.

“That's right, Daddy. You can make anything with the right ingredients.” My heart swells as I hear my son's confidence.

“In-gree-di-ints,” Emma says, pronouncing every syllable with exaggerated clarity. They give each other a high five, their laughter ringing through the kitchen. Happiness radiates from my son, his face lighting up with each smile, and I love seeing him like this. It's the most carefree he's been in a long time. Hell, me too.

“It was as easy as following a recipe,” Emma says. “Anyone can do that.”

Her lips tease and tempt me, and if Colby weren't watching us as if he were getting paid to spy, I’d lean in and kiss her. “What's in the oven?”

Emma takes a step back and swings open the door. “Garlic roasted potatoes,” she announces, the steam billowing out.

“We even chopped the garlic like real chefs!” Colby says proudly.

“We did.” Emma shuts the door and steals a glance at me, a flirtatious grin dancing across her face. Fuck, I need her like I need air.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus back on Colby. “How was school?”

“Great! Tomorrow is show-and-tell, and I have the perfect thing to bring,” he exclaims, his face brimming with enthusiasm.

“Really?” Emma turns and asks. “I didn't know that.”

“Yeah!” he says, bouncing on his toes. “Let me go get it!”

Colby removes his chef hat and apron, then races up the stairs. Our laughter trails behind him, and as soon as he's out of sight, my mouth finds Emma's. I push her against the counter, my hand sliding possessively over her curves.

“I've been thinking about this all day,” she says, her voice desperate and breathless as she runs her fingers through my hair. We're too greedy, too ravenous, nearly losing control. I moan against her, losing my grasp on reality anytime she's nearby.

When I hear the top of the stairs creak, we break apart.

Emma's lips are swollen from our kisses, and she tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear, trying to regain her composure. Not sure how that silly chef hat stayed in place.

“Ready to see it?” Colby asks, a grin spreading across his face as he hides something behind his back.

Emma and I stand side by side as he pulls a bright yellow rubber ducky from behind him.

Emma's eyes widen in surprise as he skips toward us, his glee infectious.

“Look how cool it is!” Colby says, his excitement palpable.

I hold back laughter, biting my lip as I hold out my palm. “Give it to me.”

“Dad, it has a motor on its mouth, and it's butt does this.” He wiggles the ducky as he demonstrates its functions.

I glance at Emma, and her face turns as red as her hair.

“Please, put it in my hand, now,” I keep my tone light but firm.

Colby's smile fades as he looks up at me, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He gives it to me.

“Where did you find this?” I ask, knowing it was in Emma's bathroom.

He turns his head away, avoiding my gaze.

“This is Emma's toy ,” I tell him gently, meeting her eyes, then focus back on him. “You don't take things that aren't yours, okay? You have to ask for permission.”

His bottom lip quivers, and I can tell he’s just as exhausted as I am.

Colby turns to her. “Emma, can I bring your toy to school tomorrow and show my friends?”

I turn to her, smirking as embarrassment sweeps over her like a tide.

She quickly flips the chicken fried steaks in the pan, as if that can distract from the moment. “Oh, honey. I'm sorry, you can't. I was going to use it tomorrow for my bath time.”

Her eyes darken when she glances in my direction. I grow hard thinking about her in the tub, losing herself to thoughts of me.

“But can't you use it some other time? I just need it for a few hours.” His eyes glisten with tears, desperation creeping into his voice.

“How about I get you an even better one? A bigger one. That one is actually broken; it barely floats. Oh! You should take the rock you painted at the Season's Greeting celebration! I'll even let you take mine, too. It's way cooler, and we made them together. Remember? Do you know where it is?”

“Yes,” he says, a bright smile returning to his face as he runs back upstairs, his little feet thumping excitedly on the floorboards.

I move forward and hand it over to her. “I would've loved explaining your rubber fucky to his teacher.”

“I'd have been deceased!” She snatches it from my hand, tucking it securely into her apron pocket before returning to the oven. “I can't believe I left that out. Careless.”

I lean in, kissing the back of her neck, the warmth of her skin beneath my lips sending a thrill through me. She leans into me, a sigh escaping her lips. “I want to watch you use it again.”

“We can make that happen,” she mutters. “I love your eyes on me.”

The timer on the stove sounds off with its cheerful ding as Emma expertly removes the golden-brown chicken-fried steaks from the bubbling grease. My mouth waters as she carefully places them on a plate lined with paper towels to absorb the excess oil. I'm genuinely impressed by how effortless she makes it look.

“Let me get it,” I say, grabbing the oven mitts and taking over the task. I place the potatoes on the cork potholder waiting in the center of the table, the subtle scent of garlic wafts through the air.

“Is dinner ready?” Colby asks, skipping into the kitchen with his beloved pet rock cradled in his small hands. He's already forgotten about the rubber ducky—at least for now.

Emma pulls plates from the cabinet, and I grab silverware. We move around each other in the kitchen with a seamless rhythm, instinctively anticipating one another's actions as if we've choreographed this dance many times before.

“Join my team,” I say over my shoulder, flashing her a grin.

“Join mine!” she replies with a laugh, undressing me with her eyes.

“Daddy, for what?” Colby chimes in, his curiosity piqued. “Can I be on your team?”

I grin widely, my heart swelling with affection for both of them. “Of course. I've asked Emma a million times to join our cookie-baking team for the contest the weekend after your birthday, and she keeps saying no.”

His brows crease in confusion. “Why, Emma?”

I can’t help but smirk mischievously and enjoy this too much. I'm aware that Colby is one of her weaknesses, she’d do anything for him that he asks within reason.

She narrows her eyes at me, twitching her lips in mock scowl. “You're evil.”

“Please join our team!” Colby pleads, his green eyes wide with hope.

“I'll think about it,” she tells him, playfully removing her apron. The duck’s head pokes out.

“Come on, time to eat dinner,” she says.

We move to the table, the wooden surface polished and inviting, and pull Emma's chair out for her. She sits, meeting my gaze with desire as I take my seat across from them.

“This looks incredible,” I say, taking in the perfectly cooked chicken-fried steaks, creamy gravy, green beans, and roasted potatoes. “You didn't have to go through all this trouble.”

“Trouble? I let Colby choose what he wanted for dinner,” she replies with a smile, placing a smaller piece of meat on Colby's plate before scooping generous portions of his chosen sides. “Is that enough?”

He nods enthusiastically, a grin spreading across his face as he eagerly snatches up his fork. “Thank you, Emma. This looks good.”

“You're welcome.”

I reach over with my knife, cutting his steak into manageable pieces.

“Daddy, I've got it! Give it to me.”

“No,” I insist gently. “It's too sharp, and I don't want you to hurt yourself.”

He pouts, his bottom lip jutting out in disappointment.

“Can you cut mine, too?” Emma asks, blinking up at me with a playful glance, scooting her plate closer to mine. “I'd prefer you do it for me.”

My eyes flick in her direction, and Colby's attitude immediately changes. She's a pro at this; her presence always transforms the atmosphere into something lighter.

“After he's finished with mine,” Colby informs her calmly, a smirk dancing on his lips. “You can be next.”

I grin at him, then cast my gaze back to her. Once his food is in manageable bites, I turn my attention to her. She watches me intently, anticipation gleaming in her eyes as I cut her steak.

“Mm. Good boy,” she mutters approvingly as I slice hers into similar, bite-sized pieces. My cock twitches.

“Great job, Daddy.” Colby stabs a sliver and pops it into his mouth. “Mm!”

“How is it? Did I do a good job?” Her excitement threads through her words.

“Yes! I want to eat this every day! Tomorrow and the next day and the next day.”

She nervously laughs, the sound mingling with the faint clinking of forks against plates. “I've created a monster.”

“You have,” I say, glancing at their dynamic and noticing how special their relationship is. Emma makes Colby incredibly happy. He wasn't unhappy before, of course, but now he shines with a newfound brightness. She's attentive, genuinely interested, and never once treats him like a baby, which I know he appreciates. My boy is becoming more independent and before I realize it, he'll be driving.

“Did you decide what you wanted for your birthday?” I ask Colby, eager to hear his thoughts.

He puts on his thinking face, furrowing his brow as he counts with his fingers. “LEGOs, a new bike, and a puppy!”

“We'll see,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “I heard from Mr. Stinky.”

Emma glances in my direction, her brows knitting together. I realize I forgot to explain him.

Colby's eyes widen with excitement. “Yeah? Is he coming to visit me on my birthday?”

“He is!” I confirm, unable to hide my grin.

“We're expecting guests?” she finally asks, glancing between us with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

“Oh yes,” Colby explains eagerly. “Mr. Stinky is naughty, though. He gets in trouble sometimes.”

Emma's eyes flick back and forth between Colby and me.

“He also makes a mess,” I add. “One we have to clean up every day.”

“Where will he sleep?” she asks, her voice tinged with concern.

“He never sleeps, Emma,” I reply, shaking my head as a grin plays at the corners of my mouth. “He's always awake so he can tell Santa what I've been up to. But he's a good elf,” Colby explains.

“Elf,” she says, slightly relaxing. I smirk at how quickly her anxiety dissipates. No way I'm allowing anyone to fuck up the little time we're guaranteed.

We finish eating dinner and tackle the kitchen cleanup together, our movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. When we're finished, she approaches me. “Today, at the deli, I saw men taking pictures of me and Colby. I left immediately, but…” She pauses. “I know how protective you are of his face not being shown online. I'm so sorry,” she urges.

“That's why you left?”

“Yes,” she admits.

Alarm bells ring and I'm fucking pissed, but not at her. I run my fingers across her cheeks. “It's not your fault. You did what you could.”

I softly kiss her.

Moments later, Colby stands at the top of the stairs. “Emma! I'm ready!”

She steals another kiss before walking away.

While she helps him during his bath, I shower. I can hear their laughter echoes in the background as the dinosaur capsules hatch.

Afterward, I tuck him in with a bedtime story, the room filled with the warm light of his bedside lamp.

When I click his door shut, Emma meets me in my room. As soon as she enters, I press her back against the door, our mouths crashing together as I devour her lips like she's my lifeline. She sighs against me, the sound both a plea and a declaration.

“I missed you today,” she admits desperately, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. “You were on my mind so much.”

“Fuck, me too,” I reply, feeling the tension and longing between us surge. I gently lead her over to the bed. She climbs under the blankets, and before I join her, I slide open the top drawer of the nightstand.

“What's an O-bill?” she asks, glancing down at the stack of fake dollar bills I place in her hand. She bursts out laughing at my playful attempt to bring some humor into the moment.

“It's payday,” I tell her, leaning over to capture her lips again.

Her eyes widen as realization dawns on her. “Orgasm money,” she says, her brows lifting in surprise as she counts them out loud. “Thirty?” Her head falls back with infectious laughter. “I'm fucking rich . And what if I want to cash them in right now?”

“Dare you,” I tease, the temptation flooding my senses. I greedily want to pleasure her until the sun rises. “But you'll be useless tomorrow.”

“The only reason I won't is because I can tell you're exhausted,” she responds, her voice sultry and laced with desire. “Now, come here. I need you.”

Emma casually places her sexy-time cash on the bedside table. The rustle of bills, a reminder of the pleasures that lie ahead. I move closer to her, my hands gliding over her peaked nipples before slipping inside her panties. The heat radiates off her, and she's so fucking wet for me that I can barely handle it. Her mouth falls slightly open, pants escaping as she gently rocks her hips, urging me forward. “Yes. Oh.”

But just as my hungry lips meet hers, the door to my room swings open with a suddenness that steals the breath from my lungs. Emma’s eyes widen in shock, and she slips off the bed into a crouched position, hiding like a Navy SEAL in the shadows. I instinctively adjust myself, the evidence of my arousal standing at full attention, a reminder of interrupted intentions.

“Daddy,” Colby calls, his small voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

“Hey, Bee.” I sit up, grabbing a pillow in a frantic attempt to cover myself while masking my surprise. “What's going on?”

“I couldn't sleep. I wanted to talk to you about something,” he explains innocently. I scoot over, making space for him to climb onto the bed, my body instinctively positioning itself to shield Emma, who’s still hidden on the floor. I glance at her, and to my relief, she's grinning, eyes wide, a mixture of amusement and disbelief dancing in her gaze.

I gently move his brown hair out of his face, and his bright green eyes, filled with curiosity, gaze back at me. “Why can't Emma be my mom?”

The question hits me like a freight train, catching me completely off guard. I try to keep my expression soft.

“Well.” I take a steadying breath, searching for the right words.

“Evie said you could marry her and make her my mom. Can you?” he asks, his tone simple, yet the weight of his request is anything but light.

I chuckle, trying to ease the tension. “Son, that's not how it works. I can't just marry Emma. She has to want to marry me back.”

His brows knit together, and I can feel his mood dampening, disappointment already churns inside. “But she likes you, Dad.”

“Maybe you should tell Evie that she needs to mind her own business?” I suggest, trying to inject a bit of humor into the conversation.

“No! What if Emma asks you to marry her? Then will you do it?” he asks, his innocence on full display.

I grin wider, my heart swelling at his unfiltered desire for happiness. “It's grown-up stuff that you don't need to worry about. Emma is your friend and your nanny and Claire's sister. She's returning to New York at the end of December, and it will be us again. Just like before.”

“No,” he whispers, his voice breaking, and crocodile tears start to stream down his face.

“Bee, please don't cry. She's going to come back and visit you and Aunt CeCe often. Guaranteed.” He sits up and hugs me tightly, his small arms wrapping around me. I pull him close, my arm enveloping his tiny frame. I stare blankly at the wall as thoughts spiral through my mind. This is something I've contemplated a million times, but now, it feels overwhelmingly real.

“I don't want her to go, Daddy.”

The words catch in my throat, heavy and suffocating. “I know. Can we talk about this later? Come on, let me walk you back to bed.”

“Fine,” he says, though the bitterness in his tone reveals his frustration. I follow behind him, his small feet pad against the floor, leading me back to his room. When we arrive, he climbs into bed, and I sit at the edge of the mattress, pulling the blankets up to his chin with gentle care.

“It's not fair,” he mutters, clearly still upset, his voice thick with disappointment.

“I know,” I tell him, my heart aching for him. “But everything happens just how it's supposed to, okay? Have faith, Bee.”

He rolls over and turns away from me, too upset to even look at me. I rub his back in gentle circles, feeling the tension beneath my fingertips until his breathing steadies, lulled into a more peaceful rhythm.

After a deep breath of my own, I finally return to my room, the air thick with unvoiced thoughts. Before I push the door open, I pause outside, steadying my nerves and recomposing myself, as if bracing against a wave of uncertainty.

Emma sits with her legs crisscrossed on my bed, her brown eyes hold an unsettling mix of light and shadow. I notice the underlying sadness that lingers just behind those bright orbs. An expression of worry etches across her face. Our silent conversation flows effortlessly, words unspoken yet understood, as we grasp the gravity of the moment.

We simultaneously open our mouths, caught in the whirlwind of emotions, and try to speak at the same time.

“Emma,” I mutter, quietly locking the door behind me. I take a seat beside her on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under my weight. Gently, I place my finger under her chin, guiding her gaze up to meet mine, forcing her to hold my eyes. “Am I going to have to deal with two meltdowns tonight?”

She fights back a smile, a flicker of hope lighting up her face, but it’s short-lived as she leans forward, pulling me into a hug. I breathe her in deeply, nuzzling against her neck, the scent of her sweet skin grounding me amidst the chaos cluttering my mind.

“I'm sorry,” she murmurs, the words tinged with vulnerability. “I?—“

Carefully, I pull away so I can meet her eyes directly, holding her gaze firm with reassurance. “Don't apologize. He's attached to you, just like everyone else. We'll worry about the future when we're living it, you know?” I try to convey strength through my words, hoping to ease the burden we share.

“He'll be heartbroken,” she whispers, searching my face for answers, a flicker of fear flashing in her eyes. “I hope you make the right decision.”

“I will,” I confirm, allowing a smile to break through the tension. “I'm doing what you said.”

My heart beats with resolve, fueling my determination to navigate this unfamiliar terrain together.

With a gentle motion, I lay her back on the bed and kiss her sweetly, feeling the warmth of her skin against my lips. As we lose ourselves in one another, too many emotions float to the surface.

Too many unspoken words linger in the air as we make love beneath the silver glow of the moonlight. I watch her ride me like a fleeting daydream, capturing every moment as if she might slip away.

I can't ever let that fucking happen.