Catastrophe is something we have in common. This scorching single dad desperately needs a nanny. I'm hardly qualified but you know what they say about desperation... good bedfellows and whatnot.
He's a skeptic, so I chafe him. But the big bulge in his pants seems to beg for a rub. And all our friction is fanning sparks into flame.
It's too much... too soon. And getting too hard to resist.
My intuition says trust him, but my heart says heck no. If I choose wrong, it could do more than set me back. I could fall and never get up.
