Grinder (Seattle Sharks 1)

We had history, and when his mom had decided she wanted to travel more—making it where she could no longer watch Lettie while Gage was traveling with the team—my mom had come to me with the job opening. And since I was still stuck checking the unemployed box on my life’s application, I jumped at the opportunity.

I supposed when I had something as precious as Lettie for a profession, it didn’t matter that the bimbo-bunnies thought I was just a servant in Gage Manner. I knew the truth.

“She gone?” Gage’s voice cut through my thoughts as he rounded the corner and I gripped the spatula a little harder.

Hot damn. Why did he have to walk around shirtless eighty percent of the time he was home?

“Yes,” I snapped, unable to take my eyes off his broad chest or the thin, intricate black lettering tattooed on the top of his pec that detailed Lettie’s birth stats. Then I had to look down—because I was a masochist—at his carved abs and those damn V lines that were so defined I didn’t think he was fully human. The soft cotton gray sweats he wore hung off his hips, showing he was rocking them commando. My mouth watered and an ache wrenched in the pit of my stomach.

“You’re burning my eggs,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

I blinked and jolted when I saw a tiny bit of smoke coming from the pan. I quickly dragged the spatula across the pan and gave the eggs a fast stir. “You’re having scrambled today.”

“Put them on top of a piece of toast for me, please?” He flashed the same damn grin that had gotten me to keep a stray kitten he’d found when we were kids, one he couldn’t take care because his mom was allergic. The same grin that had convinced me to sign off on traveling with him to every game this year, toting Lettie along too. He was lucky his love for her made him endearing, because his other dominate qualities—like screwing everything that moved and taking everything but a firstborn sacrifice to earn his trust—were not.

Gage dropped to his knees next to Lettie, who had cleaned her plate and returned to coloring somewhere between my anger at the bunny and my embarrassment over ogling Gage. My growing curiosity about how he was in bed amplified—hell, I’d heard dozens of women scream from his room even when mine was an entire floor below his—but I couldn’t let these thoughts get out of hand. I couldn’t let my innocent crush start to turn into anything more serious.

To be honest, it hadn’t been an innocent crush since I started working for him six months ago, but living here now? Ugh.

I blamed his incredible body and those damned blue eyes that resembled the deepest part of the ocean on the brightest, sunniest day.

“Aren’t her puppies gorgeous?” I asked as he eyed the work she focused on so intently.

“That is the most beautiful puppy picture I’ve ever seen.” He kissed her cheek and tickled her neck throwing her into a fit of giggles.

I fixed his plate and poured him a cup of coffee, doctoring it just the way he liked. Cooking for him wasn’t part of my job description but we’d fallen into an easy habit since I started, and it didn’t bother me. Getting to live as a working piece of furniture in his five-star life was as close as I’d get to where my friends, Paige and Jeannine, had already established themselves.

“Bailey knows great art when she sees it,” Gage said, releasing Lettie from the hug he had her in and taking a seat at the island.

I smiled and set his plate down in front of him.

“Too bad she’s never done anything about it,” he added before taking a massive bite.

I scowled at him and jerked his plate back, taking it to the other side of the kitchen where I leaned against the counter. I took a bite and gave him a screw you look.

He raised his hands in defense. “What? Who majors in Philosophy when all they want to do is paint?”

“There is plenty of philosophy in art,” I said, “and you know why I did. Mom said Art would never take me anywhere.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Art and philosophy are amazing. Please teach them both to my daughter. Now, give me back my eggs.”

I chuckled and returned his plate to him, minus another bite.

He shook his head, his thick black hair still wet from the shower he’d taken this morning. The man had a routine, and I was privy to nearly all of its time slots. Including pre and post one-night stands. It made me sad for some reason, seeing him take no effort to find a woman who actually deserved him.

“This morning’s bunny was a real treat,” I said, holding my coffee mug up and taking a drink.

He glanced over his shoulder at Lettie, still engrossed in her coloring, before returning his focus to me. “I meant to have her out of here before Lettie woke up, but she’s up early. Did the girl say anything in front of her I need to feel guilty over?”

I sighed and shook my head. “No. Just to me. I’m used to it though.”

He tilted his head.

“Not important.”

He set his toast down and wiped his hands on a napkin. “If they’re saying hurtful things to you I’ll stop bringing them to the house.”

Warmth fluttered in my chest. He’d do that for me? “That’s ridiculous. This is your house. Honestly, it’s not a big deal.”

“Anything that makes you uncomfortable is. I thought you were cool with it, but if you’re not, I’ll find other means.”

“Why would you care that much?”

He pushed back from the island and came over to me, stopping an inch or so away. “You take care of my daughter when I can’t,” he lowered his voice, I assumed so Lettie wouldn’t hear. “You’re as important to her as I am, and I can’t have anything drive you away…she’d be crushed.”

I swallowed the rock that had lodged itself in my throat. While I had no plans to leave Lettie soon, I knew I couldn’t be her nanny forever. All I’d ever wanted--besides maybe a gallery of my own--was a family someday, and while I loved this job, and Lettie, I would never make my own children feel like a second choice. Lucky for me, I had no man vying to put a ring on my finger, so the problem wasn’t a real threat yet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “I’m just surprised you’ve kept up your old-school antics after having her. I mean, she’s your daughter. What if some boy treated her the way you treat women?” The question left my mouth before I had the chance to filter it through my brain. I clenched my eyes shut, knowing I crossed the employee/employer line, but damn, we’d been friends long before he’d hired me.