Central Park Read Online Jana Aston

Categories Genre: Funny, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
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So you haven’t found it yet. Good nanny. Too busy focusing on Velvet, right?

I roll my eyes. This is so damn ridiculous. Yes, and we’re very busy. So leave us alone.

I wait for a response, but it doesn’t come. I’m slightly annoyed, but then again, I did tell him to leave me alone. So I sigh and get down to doing what I said I’d do—study. I move around the apartment a bit, from the library to the living room to the kitchen. There’s really not a bad place to be. I’ve gotten quite a bit done before my phone pings again.

I know you’re busy, but I wanted to tell you that Velvet is very particular. If she doesn’t drink all four oz. of formula, she will be extremely fussy.

I stare at the message. This guy is actually unreal.

Please also play Beethoven for fifteen minutes for cultural enrichment.

Now I can’t help it. I’m laughing out loud in this guy’s empty apartment.

Which foreign languages do you speak? I’d like Velvet to be multilingual before pre-school.

I’m about to type out a response to that one—something snarky like “She’ll be fluent in ‘asshole’ just like her dad”—when another response comes up, giving me a better opportunity for snark.

How about her walk? Did she sleep?

Ha. As if. I might be a first-time nanny, but even I know that babies don’t sleep on walks without a stroller.

Sorry, couldn’t find her stroller, I type, quite amused with myself. You know she won’t sleep in the BabyBjörn.

I smile again, then force myself to ignore my phone and get back to work. My schoolwork, not my fake nanny work. But fuck, all this texting over a nonexistent baby feels like some kind of flirting. Right? Or am I crazy? I think he’s flirting. And… it’s definitely not helping that yes, I am a terrible, terrible person and peeked in his nightstand when I was in his room. Ultra-thin, lubricated condoms. Size… extra-large. That has to be a joke, right? Like something he just keeps on hand to fuck with nosey nannies he didn’t know were coming? Because the other possibility is that he actually needs that size and, well, I’ve never been with anyone who required anything above standard size.

I’m losing it. I’m actually losing it. This is already an insane arrangement, but now, I’m getting turned on by these silly texts and I’m wondering about the size of his dick. A detail that definitely didn’t needed to be added to the mental picture I have of him in my mind.

I check the time. It’s almost five o’clock. And yes, I’m supposed to wait until he’s here, but since the baby isn’t actually real, I’m gonna do a runner. Because I’m worried that if I don’t leave now, I will lose all my willpower and do something really embarrassing when he walks through the door.

And, in doing so, I will lose my job and any chance I have of staying in this city.

“Nope,” I say, grabbing my book bag and phone. “Big nope. This is not happening.”

I dart out of the door, both thanking and cursing every God in the universe that I don’t run into him on the way down.

Chapter Six

I thank my lucky librarian stars that the next several days are so packed with assignments that I barely have any room to think about men and their gorgeous secret libraries and their sharp jaws. I am consumed by research on the newest accessibility features that libraries can adopt, and I spend no time imagining what Mason’s extra-large dick would feel like pressed inside me.

No, thanks to school, I am able to almost completely ignore my boss, despite his frequent attempts to distract me.

We do fall into a rhythm, weirdly enough. I now know that I need to get there literally one minute before Mason leaves for work to avoid any tempting banter, and I must leave right before five to make sure we don’t run into each other on my way out. Mason doesn’t know this is the routine, or maybe he does, because he tries to squeeze in comments that leave me spinning for the first hour after he leaves.

Comments like, “Does that skirt meet nanny regulations, Miss Parker?” or “Ahh, red lipstick, are we going for classic sexy librarian today?”

For the record, I did absolutely nothing to merit these distracting comments. I didn’t wear the skirt with the hopes that he might imagine sliding his hand beneath it. I didn’t wear lipstick to draw his attention to my mouth. Of course not.

I’m trying to focus now, though. On my education, not my imaginary sex life.

It’s my fourth day working as a “nanny” for Mason, and I’ve got a huge assignment to focus on. It’s due in two weeks, and even though that might seem like a long time, I’ve got a ton of research to do. Which is good, because research in the library field tends to be incredibly unsexy. Which is exactly what I need.



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