Winnie Smith is the perfect nanny. She’s reliable, warm, and my daughter adores her.
She cooks like a pro, styles pigtails like a fairy godmother, and knows her way around a car engine better than most mechanics. She’s made life easier. The house feels full again. And maybe… so do I.
But living under the same roof has its challenges. Like catching her in the kitchen after midnight… barefoot, in tiny sleep shorts, eating ice cream straight from the tub.
Don’t even get me started on the way that her lips wrapped around that spoon. I digress. It shouldn’t mean anything. She’s a decade younger. I’m her boss. She’s off-limits.
And yet, it’s all I can think about. I was just looking for a nanny—not nightly cold showers and definitely not feelings. But the more we blur the lines, the harder it is to keep pretending.
We say it’s temporary. No strings. Just one harmless arrangement. But what if she’s not just what my daughter needs… What if she’s exactly what I’ve been missing too?
