Runaway Love: A Single Dad Nanny Small Town Romance (Cherry Tree Harbor Book 1)

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs in the yard with a cup of coffee when a text popped up from Austin.

My dad will not shut up about you.

Haha. What’s he saying?

Just going on about how sweet you are, how pretty you are, how lucky it was that you showed up when you did. Basically he’s in love.

It’s mutual.

He told me I should take you out to a fancy restaurant while the kids are gone.

Oh really? And what did you say?

I told him I was already fucking you at home for free.

JERK.

Kidding. If you’d like to go out, we can. I just like being alone with you. I don’t want to share.

I also don’t want people talking.

It’s fine. I don’t need fancy restaurants. What I need are clothes. Any suggestions?

Lots of skimpy things. Maybe something see-through. Or those panties without a crotch. Might be tough to find in Cherry Tree Harbor.

That’s not what I meant. What SHOPS should I go to? I want to buy local.

Oh. I have no idea. Ask Mabel?

Good idea.

I didn’t expect Mabel to answer, so I was surprised when she picked up. “Hey, Veronica!”

“Hi!”

“I was just thinking about you. How are things going?”

“Great,” I told her. “Really great. How’s the dig?”

“Fantastic,” she bubbled. “Are the kids in California?”

“Yes. They left on Saturday.”

“Has my brother been a bear ever since? He’s extra hard to live with when he’s away from them.”

“He’s been okay,” I said casually, although extra hard was accurate too, just not in the way she meant.

“So you’re getting along?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Austin can come off prickly, but once you get to know him, he really is sweet. He’d do anything for people he cares about.”

“I can see that about him.”

“I don’t know how much he’s told you, but he practically raised me and my brothers.”

“He’s told me a little,” I said. “Sounds like he had to grow up fast after your mom died.”

“Totally. Austin basically took over as a second parent back then, because my dad had to work so much to support us all. But my dad sort of returned the favor when the twins arrived.”

“That’s what it sounds like. I know you guys have been through some really hard times, but it’s nice how close you all are.”

“It is,” Mabel said, emotion in her voice. “And Austin has been so strong and so supportive of every single one of us. I hope one day he does something for himself.”

“Me too. I was asking him about starting his own furniture business.”

“Good luck. I’m always on him about that, but he thinks my dad would be upset.”

“Would he?”

“I mean, maybe. But he’s a grown man. And he’s a great father. I think he’d want to know Austin’s true feelings.” She sighed. “But my brother is not good at sharing his true feelings, which is probably why he’s still single.”

“He mentioned he doesn’t date.”

“Nope, the man lives like a monk.”

Not this week, I thought.

“He says he doesn’t have the time,” Mabel went on, “and it’s true he doesn’t have much to spare. But sometimes I think that’s just an excuse.”

“An excuse for what?”

“He would never admit this, but I think he avoids relationships so he won’t have to be real with someone.”

“Maybe,” I said, thinking that he’d actually been fairly real with me. “Has he always been that way?”

“As far as I can remember. Xander told me that even when our mom died, Austin never broke down. Ever. Our dad even told the boys it was okay to cry, but Austin refused.”

A lump was swelling in my throat as I pictured a twelve-year-old boy with dark hair and big brown eyes holding his sadness inside because he didn’t want anyone to see it. Did he feel like he’d have been letting someone down? His dad? His mom? Himself? “That hurts my heart,” I said to Mabel.

“I know. Mine too.” She exhaled. “And what sucks is that Austin would be a great boyfriend or husband, you know? He’s so giving. And when he lets himself relax, he’s a lot of fun.”

Can confirm, I thought.

“But no woman I know wants to be with someone who keeps his feelings under lock and key.”

“He does seem to keep some things bottled up,” I said, recalling his words. Certain emotions are kind of pointless. “But once he warms up to you, he lets down his guard. I’ve seen it.”

“See if you can get him to leave the house,” Mabel encouraged with a laugh. “Take him on a play date. Go to dinner at The Pier Inn. It’s my favorite restaurant in town. The food is great, and the view is amazing.”

“I’ll try,” I said. “I was actually calling to see if you had any suggestions about where to go for some cute clothes. I can order some things online, but I’d like to shop local too.”

She named several stores she liked in town, and I made notes in my phone. “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Hey, don’t tell Austin what I said about feelings, okay? He gets mad when I bug him about that stuff.”

“No problem. I won’t say a word.”

After hanging up with her, I texted Austin again.

Hey. I just talked to Mabel and she said I need to have dinner at The Pier Inn. Want to go with me?

Meh.

Don’t be a stick in the mud. I’ll make a reservation.

But people will be there. I don’t like people.

I’ll be there. You like me, don’t you?

Only when you’re not trying to get me to do shit I don’t want to do.

Come on. Please?

Fine. But you have to let me eat you for dessert.

Deal.

OMG

Your dad better not be standing there reading your texts.

I made him take an early lunch. He wasn’t doing any work anyway. Just singing your praises.

Are you sick of hearing about me?

No. But I’m not productive when all I can think about is how you taste.

And all the places on my body I want those red lips.

And what I want to do to you when I get home.

My nipples tightened. I crossed my legs.

You’re turning me on.

I’m turning myself on.

I think you should come home for lunch.

Fuck, I want to…

I’ll serve your favorite meal.

Be right there.

When he arrived twenty minutes later, I was stretched out on my side on the dining room table, wearing just a black lace bra and matching panties.

He unlocked the back door and came striding through the kitchen, probably on his way upstairs. Spotting me, he stopped and stared. “Holy shit,” he said. “I thought you’d be up in bed.”

“Want me to move?”

“Don’t you dare.” He came toward me, and my heart began to pound. “I’m hot and sweaty.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Come here.” Standing at one end of the table, he grabbed one ankle and tugged me closer to him.

I rolled onto my back and let him pull my underwear off, then I propped myself up on my elbows and watched him push my knees apart. “Goddamn,” he said, his eyes on fire.

“Hungry?” I teased.

“Starving. I’m going to devour everything on my plate and lick it clean.” He bent down and stroked me with his tongue, one long, decadent sweep.

My stomach muscles tightened, and my legs began to tremble as I watched his head move between my thighs, his mouth slanting this way and that, his hands spread on the edge of the table. When he’d gotten his fill and had me arching and crying out so loud I would never be able to face the neighbors again, he yanked me to my feet, spun me around, and bent me forward over the table.

He placed a hand on my back. “Don’t. Move.”

I stayed right where I was as he hurried upstairs. He was back in less than fifteen seconds, and stood behind me once more.

I heard his belt buckle coming undone and rose up on my tiptoes, spreading my legs wider. I imagined him freeing his cock from his jeans and rolling on the condom, my core muscles clenching in anticipation.

Both of us moaned as he penetrated my body and began to move. I was already soaking wet, still sensitive from the orgasm he’d just given me. His hands gripped both my hips as he drove his thick, hard length inside me again and again. He was rough with me, the force of his thrusts rattling my bones, and I cried out with every powerful stroke. He was hitting some hidden spot deep within me, and my body tightened around him like a vise. My eyes watered. My legs hummed. I wished I had something to grab onto, but the table was wide, so all I could do was flatten my palms on its warm, wooden surface. Behind me, Austin’s breaths grew more ragged, his pace more frantic, his fingers digging hard into my flesh until finally he stopped moving and buried himself deep, his cock throbbing rhythmically as my second climax ripped through me.

When it was over, Austin braced his hands on the table and kissed my back. “Thanks for lunch. What time is dinner?”

I laughed. “You have a very healthy appetite.”

He pulled out and kissed my tailbone. “I hope that wasn’t too rough.”

“It wasn’t. I liked it.” I let him help me up and turned to face him. “Neil used to call me his teacup, and it always drove me nuts. I’m not some fragile, breakable thing.”

“Teacup!” he scoffed. “Fuck that. You’re more like . . . a beer mug.”

I laughed. “A beer mug?”

“Yeah.” He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment but kept talking. “Something sturdy and durable. I mean, you’re pretty and all, but you can take a pounding.”

“Is that a compliment?” Spying my underwear on the floor, I snagged it and tugged it on. When I turned around, Austin was standing there, ready to pull me into his arms.

“It was a compliment,” he said, holding me close. “You know I think you’re strong in every possible way. But I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” I looped my arms around his waist and tucked my head beneath his chin. His body was warm and smelled sweaty, but it was a good sweat—hard-work-in-the-sunshine sweat.

“I never want to hurt you.” His voice was quiet but strong.

I closed my eyes. “You won’t.”

That afternoon, Austin texted me that Xander needed his help at the bar tearing out the old bathrooms and told me not to worry about making dinner—they were just going to grab sandwiches. He said he’d message me when he got home.

Since I had a little extra time, I walked down to the senior mixer, taught my dance class, and stayed around afterward chatting with some of people who’d attended. After arriving back at home, I made myself some boxed mac and cheese for dinner, but I ate it with a salad using veggies from the farmers’ market, so I figured it all evened out. When I was done eating, I cleaned up the kitchen and went back to my apartment.

Around ten p.m., I took a shower and got ready for bed. In the bathroom mirror, I examined the bruises he’d left on my hips, surprised to find myself aroused by them.

But maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. Maybe it made perfect sense that I would like wearing the evidence of Austin’s powerful desire for me, that they made me feel strong and sexy. Maybe it was part of reclaiming my body as my own—I could decide when pain felt good. I could decide that bruises were beautiful. I could decide to be a canvas for my own pleasure—and for his.

I checked my phone one last time before crawling into bed, trying not to feel disappointed that he hadn’t texted or called. A glance out the window told me his truck wasn’t in the driveway.

Get over it, I scolded myself. It’s just one night. It’s just sex. Okay, maybe it’s earth-shaking, mind-blowing, soul-shattering sex, but you went without it for twenty-nine years, so you can certainly handle going without it tonight.

But we only had three nights left. What was I going to do when our time was up and I had to go without it forever?

Don’t think about it.

I slammed my eyes shut, but I was still awake when I heard my phone vibrate. My hand shot out to grab it off the nightstand.

Hey. Sorry to text so late. Xander was fucking everything up and I had to fix things. You still awake?

Yes.

I’m getting in the shower. Want to keep me company?

Yes.

I’ll leave the back door open.

Okay.

Hurry.

I’ve been hard for you all day.

The shower was running when I slipped inside the bathroom, the marble tiles cool beneath my bare feet. The shower door was steamed up, but the blurry shape of him behind it made my breath come faster. Eagerly, I stripped off my clothes.

He pushed the door open, and my heart careened at the sight of him—wet and muscular and, as promised, already hard.

“Hi,” I said breathlessly.

“Hi, baby.” He looked me over head to toe, then studied my hips. “Are those marks from me?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.” His hands skimmed over them. “Do they hurt?”

“No.”

His dark eyes smoldered. “Will you think I’m a dick if I tell you I like the way they look?”

I shook my head. “Will you think I’m crazy if I ask for more?”

“I think you’re fucking perfect.” Wrapping his arms around me, he sealed his mouth to mine as the hot water streamed down our bodies. His hands roamed freely, gliding easily over my wet skin, while his tongue stroked mine with possessive fervor. I worked my hands up and down the solid length of his erection as the steam rose around us.

He turned me to face the wall and pressed up tightly behind me, reaching between my legs with one hand and covering my breast with the other. I braced my hands on the tiles, which were rectangular, charcoal gray, and laid in a herringbone pattern. It was so cool, I was momentarily distracted. “Wow, this shower is gorgeous. Did you remodel this bathroom yourself?”

“Yes.”

“I love it.”

He slipped a finger inside me. “Can we please talk about that later?”

“Sorry—yes.” But god, it turned me on that he was so talented. So good with his hands.

His lips moved down the side of my throat as his fingers rubbed my clit. He sucked hard on the spot where my neck sloped toward my shoulder. “I want to leave a mark right here,” he told me, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yes,” I whispered, even though I knew it would be visible in most of my tops. “I want it where I can see it.”

With his mouth and tongue working on my neck, he used his hands to deliver an orgasm that turned my bones to jelly. His name was still echoing off the tiles when he turned me to face him. He fisted his cock with one hand while he pinned me back against the wall with his other hand on my throat, his thumb stroking the bruise he’d left with his mouth.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his eyes traveling over my skin. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

Held immobile against the wall, I watched with wide eyes and heavy breaths as he pumped his hand up and down his shaft, the muscles in his arm working, his abs flexing. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his jaw was clenched. “I could come just looking at you.”

“Do it,” I whispered. “Let me watch. Put it on me.”

“Is that what you want?” he growled. “My cum on your skin?”

“Yes,” I panted. “You can mark me like no one else ever has.”

Within seconds, he was ejaculating onto my stomach in quick, hot bursts. Then he took his hand and rubbed it into my skin—over my breasts, down my ribcage, and over the bruises on one hip.

Finally, he let go of my neck and pulled me toward him, wrapping me in his arms. He didn’t say anything right away, and it took a minute for his breathing to slow. I felt his heartbeat against my chest.

“There’s something about you that brings out the caveman in me,” he said.

“You’re not always like this?” I asked.

“Never.”

“Good.” I smiled, pleased that this was a side of him he’d never shared with anyone else. “Neither am I.”

“Let me do something nice for you.”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . wash your hair.”

I leaned back and looked up at him in surprise. “You want to wash my hair?”

“Yes. I fucking love your hair. I remember the day we met, when you came back after taking your hair down, I couldn’t stop staring at you.”

“I believe you were scowling at me.”

“That was only because I was mad at you for being so beautiful. For making me want you.” He let me go and reached for his shampoo bottle. “But I won’t hold a grudge if you let me wash your hair.”

“With your man shampoo? Is my hair going to smell like wood chips and baseball glove?”

“It’s all I have,” he said apologetically. “But I am very good at washing hair. I won’t get soap in your eyes.”

I laughed. “Okay. Then it’s a deal.”

Later, when the lights were off and I was tucked against his side in bed, he told me he’d made a dinner reservation for Saturday night at The Pier Inn.

“You did?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes. There was no way we were going to get in so soon without a little help. My cousin Delilah is a manager there. She reserved a table for us at eight.”

“That’s so nice,” I said. “Will I get to meet her?”

“If she’s there, I can introduce you.”

I smiled. “I’m excited. I want to get something new to wear.”

“It’s not fancy or anything.”

“Hush.” I swatted his bare chest. “I want something new for our date night.” As soon as I said it, I was sorry. “I didn’t mean date night like date date,” I said quickly. “I know it’s not a date. We’re not dating. It’s just dinner with a friend.”

“Relax,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what we call it. People are going to see us and make up stories anyway.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. By Sunday morning, everyone will know Austin Buckley took his runaway bride nanny to dinner, and there will be half a dozen rumors about what it means.”

I giggled. “What will they think it means?”

“Well, someone will swear to god they saw a ring on your finger, so it probably means we’re secretly engaged. Someone else will say they saw us sitting at the seawall at sunset, so you’re definitely pregnant. And someone else will say they heard from their sister’s best friend’s cousin’s ex’s dog groomer, who lives in Chicago, that I attacked your former fiancé with an axe right on Michigan Avenue.”

“Those are some serious rumors.”

“Yeah, well, Cherry Tree Harbor is a small town with two specialties: fudge and gossip.”

“But it’s so charming! Everyone I’ve met has been so kind. It must have been a wonderful place to grow up. And it’s a great place to raise a family.”

“It is.” He was quiet for a moment. “Do you want kids?”

“Yes. I’ve always had this dream about belonging to a big family. I was so lonely growing up, so envious of kids at school who had lots of brothers and sisters and cousins around.”

His hand began to stroke my shoulder, soothing and sweet.

“But pursuing that dream wasn’t as easy as pursuing dance. It would have meant handing over a part of me I was used to keeping to myself. My mom always said, Guard your heart like it’s your home. Be careful who you let in. I did a good job of that.”

Austin didn’t say anything, but his hand continued to caress me.

“I think that’s part of why I agreed to marry Neil. I had this idea that being part of a family like his would fulfill that yearning I’d had as a child.” My fingers played with the hair on his chest. “But it backfired. His family was awful. I didn’t fit in, they never accepted me, and I ended up feeling unwanted all over again.”

“What do you mean all over again?” Austin asked quietly. “Who didn’t want you before?”

“Well—my father,” I said. “And my grandparents. The only other family I had besides my mom.”

His hand stilled for a moment.

“That probably sounds stupid,” I said quickly. “Because it’s not like they knew me and rejected me. It wasn’t personal. They just didn’t want me in the first place. But it . . . it felt personal. I always wondered what was wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.” He pulled me in a little tighter and kissed my head. “There never was.”

“Except that I can’t seem to get a relationship right, which is eventually a problem if you want a family.”

“And yet somehow I managed it,” he said wryly.

I smiled. “You did. But I’d like to share a life with someone. I just need to get better at trusting people not to hurt me. Or at least better at choosing who to put my trust in.” I picked up my head and looked at him. “I can’t depend on you to punch every guy that hurts me.”

“I would,” he said seriously, tucking my damp hair behind my ear. “Honestly, I fucking would.”

My heart liked that a little too much.

“God, I didn’t mean to dump all this on you.” I put my head down again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you did. I like knowing things about you.”

“I like knowing things about you too. You just don’t talk as much as I do.”

“No one talks as much as you do. Not even Mabel.”

“Okay, but tell me one thing about yourself.”

“Like what?”

I thought for a moment. “Who did you admire most growing up?”

“My dad,” he said without missing a beat. “He was always the strongest person I ever knew. I wanted to be like him.”

“You are,” I said softly.

He kissed my head again and sniffed. “You’re right—your hair totally smells like wood chips and baseball glove.”

Laughing, I put my arms across his chest and held him tight.

But my smile faded when I remembered that we only had three more nights together.

I didn’t want this to end.