Before I could help it, I was frantically getting myself off to the thought of her naked body beneath mine. Her breath on my lips. Her gray-green eyes closing. Her hands clutching the sheets. Her moan in my ear. I felt so guilty about it, I could barely look her in the eye the next time I saw her.

Didn’t stop me from doing it again, of course. In fact, she’d sort of become my go-to fantasy. I shook my head and finished what was left in my mug. What a pathetic fucking cliché I was: Divorced Dad Lusting after the Babysitter. As if a girl like her wanted anything to do with a guy like me—one with three kids and a bitter ex-wife.

But this morning, I was doing all right.

I pulled into the drive at Cloverleigh, parked in my assigned spot and headed into the inn through the front door, passing Frannie at reception on the way back to my office.

I may have done that on purpose. There was a back door closer to the administrative offices, but her smile had a way of making a bad morning good and a good one great.

She gave me one, her whole face lighting up. She’d been fidgeting with the ends of her sandy-colored hair, but she dropped her hands when she saw me. “Morning, Mack.”

“Morning, Frannie. How was your weekend?”

“Pretty good. We had that wedding party here the whole time.”

I paused with my hand on the door to the back hall. “Oh, that’s right. How did everything go?”

“Good.” She nodded enthusiastically. “Except the bride broke a strap on her dress and I had to use that little sewing kit I got you to fix it.” Her expression turned nervous. “I hope that’s okay.”

I smiled to reassure her. “No problem. It’s there when you need it.”

“Thanks.”

“Have a good one.” I pushed the door open and disappeared down the hall just as my cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

“Hello?”

“Hello Mack, it’s Mrs. Ingersoll.”

Miriam Ingersoll, a widowed friend of my mother’s, was my other babysitter. Monday through Wednesday she picked up Winifred from pre-school at eleven-thirty, met the older two at my house after they walked from the bus stop, then watched them all until I got home around five or six. On Thursdays and Fridays, Frannie was on duty.

“Hi, Mrs. Ingersoll. Everything okay?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not. I fell on the icy sidewalk this morning and broke my leg.”

“Oh, no.” I felt like an asshole, but immediately I thought about what this would mean for me and the kids. Then I remembered my manners. “Are you all right?”

“Not really. I’m at the hospital now, and my daughter is with me. I may need surgery.”

Closing my eyes, I set my messenger bag with my laptop in it on my desk. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s me who’s sorry, Mack. What about the kids?”

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll figure something out.”

“Are you sure? I could send my daughter to get them. She’s here with me now.”

I pressed my lips into a grim line. “No, that’s okay. You just focus on recovering. Have your daughter call me and let me know how you’re doing, okay?”

“Okay. Please tell the kids I’m sorry, too.”

“That’s all right. Get better soon.” We hung up and I sank into my chair. “Shit.”

“Everything okay?”

I looked up and saw Henry DeSantis, the winemaker at Cloverleigh in my office doorway. “Yes. No.” I set my phone down and ran a hand over my jaw. “My sitter broke her leg and can’t drive. I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my kids this afternoon.”

“Sorry. That sucks.”

“I’ll figure it out. What’s up?”

“Wanted to run some numbers by you before we meet with Sawyer regarding the repair of the bottling lines versus the purchase of new ones.”

I frowned. Sometimes the promotion to CFO seemed like more trouble than it was worth. But I’d needed the salary bump, and I liked the challenge. Plus, it was good to actually put my business degree to work. “Oh, right. What time is that meeting?”

“Ten.” He paused. “Need to reschedule?”

“No, I just need to—”

“Morning, Henry! Hey, Mack.” Chloe Sawyer ducked around DeSantis and edged into my office. “Got a second?”

“Actually, I—”

“I wanted to talk to you about the distillery idea I mentioned to you last week. I keep trying to talk to my dad about it, but I swear to God he’s dodging me.”

“Yeah, we do that when we know our daughters are about to ask for things we can’t afford.” I reached for my mug and found it empty. “I need more coffee. Preferably with some whiskey in it.”

Chloe laughed. “If we had a distillery on site, I’d have some for you. Are you having a bad morning?”

“Kind of. My sitter is out of commission and I need to find a replacement before Winifred gets out of preschool at eleven-thirty.”

“Just have Frannie pick her up.”

“Frannie’s working. I don’t want to do that to her.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “She’s at reception. On a Monday morning. In February. It’s not like she’ll be busy. I’m sure Mom can cover for her.”

“I’ll come back a little later, Mack,” DeSantis said, backing out of my office. “If you get time, great. If not, no worries.”

I gave him a grateful look. DeSantis was a good guy. “I’ll find the time. Give me thirty minutes to make a few phone calls and get the kids squared away.”

“I’ll go get you some coffee,” Chloe said.

“Thanks.” I picked up my phone again. Who could I ask to bail me out? My mother had a few friends left around here, but I didn’t have contact info for any of them. Mrs. Gardner next door was an option, although I wasn’t sure I wanted her driving my kids around in the snow at her age. While I was still sitting there frowning at my phone, I heard a voice.

“Knock, knock.”

I looked up and saw Frannie coming into my office with a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. “Here you go,” she said, setting it on my desk.

“Thanks.”

“Chloe said you need someone to watch the kids this afternoon?”

“Yeah.” I frowned. “Mrs. Ingersoll broke her leg and can’t drive.”

Frannie shrugged, tucking her hands in her back pockets. “I can do it.”

“What about the reception desk?”

“I’m only scheduled until one, and my mom is working too. We’re not that busy today. I have some social media stuff to do, but it’s nothing urgent.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind, really.”

“Are you sure?” I asked slowly. “I was trying to think of someone else who could help, but not having much luck. I could even run and pick her up and bring her back here so you don’t have to leave the desk too early.”

“That’s perfect. I’ll get her some lunch here, and then we’ll head back to your house in time to be there when Millie and Felicity get home.”

Picking up the cup of hot coffee, I looked at Frannie, half expecting her to sprout wings and a halo and float away. “You’re the best. I owe you one.”