The Nanny with the Skull Tattoos

Chapter 5

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Icy snow seeped into the canvas of Max's sneakers. He jumped, yelping, and dashed from his parked car. Every step he took brought more icy water into his shoes. He swore as he stomped through slushy puddles of half-melted snow. Tilting his head back, he stuck his middle finger up at the gray December sky. Toes going numb, he clambered onto the front porch, then opened the front door to his apartment, thankful that he had gotten the first floor.

Heat blasted him as he stepped inside, and his shoulders sagged in relief. He kicked off his shoes and unzipped his coat.

"Daddy?" Chloe called from somewhere in the house.

"Hi, baby girl," he called back, draping his coat over the old gas heater. He splayed his fingers over the humped bars, the warmth sending tingles through his nerves. He shuffled closer and slid his feet underneath. Reaching down, he peeled off his soaked socks and laid them out over the heater to dry.

"Daddy, come here," his daughter called.

Patting the heater, he ambled toward the back of the apartment. The doors to his bedroom and Savannah's room were closed, but light spilled into the hall from Chloe's room. Max's bare feet pressed into the carpet as he neared the open door, reveling in the warmth oozing through his body. Poking his head in, he gazed through the room, searching for his daughter.

She sat in a pile of pink and purple tissue paper. Savannah sat next to her, slender brown fingers a blur. Max blinked, leaning against the doorframe. Pink and purple tissue paper flowers adorned the walls of the once plain bedroom, bursting from the wall and decorating the top bars of Chloe's crib.

Savannah grinned at him, shrugging a shoulder. "What do you think?"

Chloe squealed, dipped her small hands into the pile of tissue paper, and flung some up into the air like confetti. Kicking her feet, she laughed.

Max felt the remaining ice melt from his face as his own lips curled into a smile. "How did you do this?" he asked, entering the room. He scooped Chloe up, tissue paper floating from her tiny legs. Twirling, he flung her into the air, snatching her just before she hit the ground. She shrieked with laughter.

"Dollar store," Savannah said, watching as he threw Chloe into the air again. She drew her knees up to her chest. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Max said, tossing Chloe up again. Her wispy hair flew out in all directions, her limbs splayed. He caught her again and snuggled her to his chest, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I missed you," he told her.

Savannah climbed to her feet. "Come on," she said. "Dinner's ready."

He followed her into the kitchen, his nose catching the scent of garlic for the first time. A platter of spaghetti and meatballs sat on the table next to a pile of garlic bread. "I didn't even know we had this stuff in the house," he said.

Savannah picked up a slice of garlic bread. "Hot dog buns," she said, handing it to him. "And I used the rest of the red peppers in the sauce."

"Is there anything you can't cook?" he asked as he strapped Chloe into her high chair.

"Try it first," she said. "My ex always said my meatballs were too soggy."

Max froze. "Your ex?" He winced at the squeak in his voice. Jealousy pitted in his stomach. He ran a hand through his hair, the back of his neck flushing. It was stupid of him to think that Savannah wouldn't be off the market. Of course she was dating. She was beautiful and she knew how to cook. Just because she always had dinner on the table for him and decorated his daughter's room didn't mean that she was his girlfriend. He swallowed hard. The guys she dated probably spoke three languages and lived in Puerto Rico part-time.