Double Dare(345)

“You sure honey?” I asked frowning, handing her some cash. “Take it, it’s for watching Violet.”

And Mandy smiled at me, beautiful, a mother goddess.

“Pete,” she laughed, “No, it’s okay. You pay for everything, I literally don’t spend a cent when I’m here.”

But I shook my head.

“No honey, you deserve this. You’re here as a nanny, not as a slave, and nannies get paid. On the books, in fact,” I said, taking back the cash. “I’m gonna put you on the books so that you can have a retirement account, a health savings account, access to all that good stuff.”

And she colored.

“Oh no, Pete, I couldn’t,” she murmured, looking down. “I mean, it’s not really work. I’m taking care of Violet, but you know I love her, and besides … we’re having sex on the side,” she whispered, cheeks flushing. That was true, we were going at it like rabbits night and day, but that had nothing to do with it. The brunette deserved every cent, had earned it all.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said firmly. “Doesn’t matter because you’re doing a job, and you need to be paid like a professional. Just give me your direct deposit information,” I commanded, “and I’ll set up regular transfers so you have a bi-weekly salary like a real employee.”

And sighing, Mandy gave in, providing me with her routing number and bank address. But two weeks later, when the cash landed with a thunk in her account, the brunette confronted me.

“What is this Pete?” she said slowly, fingers trembling on the account statement, barely able to grip the thin paper. “Fifty thousand dollars? For being a nanny? What is this?”

I was nonchalant, leaning back in my chair.

“Your salary,” I said smoothly. “What else?”

A pause.

“But fifty thousand?” she asked again in disbelief. “For two weeks? Or is that for the entire winter break? It’s way too much, Pete, you’re too generous and I can’t take it.”

I leaned back once more.

“No honey, it’s yours for a job well done,” I said silkily. “And yes, it’s for two weeks only. In another two weeks, you’ll get another fifty thousand.”

Her jaw dropped.

“No, I couldn’t possibly …”

But I nodded.

“Yes, and you will,” I rumbled. “You’re amazing honey, you’re the only person who can handle Violet … and handle her father too.” And it was true, because this woman was the answer to our dreams, both my daughter’s and mine. She held us together like a little family, her love and warmth and caring so tangible it surrounded us like a snug blanket, letting us relax and sink back with relief, sure that everything was going to be okay. And more than that, the woman was good for me. I wasn’t so ornery anymore, so fucking rude with everyone and anyone, probably because I was getting laid regularly, hell, four or five times a day if I needed it, the girl’s body warm, willing and open, her pussy wet and slippery, always ready for dick.

So fifty thousand was nothing, fuck it wasn’t enough. I should have made it a hundred thou, the money was nothing to me, and the little girl was worth way more than that.

But suddenly, Mandy’s eyes grew gentle, her gaze warm.

“If you love me and want me to accept it,” she said softly, “then you’ll join me at my parents’ house tomorrow.”

I jolted at the word “love” at first, unable to process what she’d said. Was it …? Could it …? My mind whirred because the word had sounded right coming from her lips, it’d been oddly fitting, like she’d nailed it on the head. But I didn’t want to talk about “love” or “relationships” right now because there was something more important on the table, namely her parents’ Christmas Eve brunch. So I pushed it out of my mind for the time being. Because yeah, we’d been invited, both of us, to her folks’ house for brunch on the twenty-fourth, and I didn’t want to go, hemming and hawing, making excuses like mad.

“I need to watch Violet,” was my first one. Having a young child is usually an immediate out, you can get away with murder when you say you have a baby. “It’s an adult party and we can’t bring Violet.”

But Mandy was prepared.

“I already found a sitter,” she said immediately. “It was tough but Mrs. Larson from down the street said she can come for a couple hours on Christmas Eve. We’re paying her triple, but it’s okay because it’s important for you to come Pete.”

I groaned. Shit.