A Nanny for the Cowboy Read online

  With a wink, Darla was gone, and Luke held the door open, while Hayley stepped into the cell-size office. “Not much room,” he said, looking around.

  Hayley, who’d moved into the small space where two metal chairs faced a battered metal desk, couldn’t argue. There was barely enough room to stand. Behind the desk, a threadbare swivel chair took up nearly every inch of space, along with an old file cabinet that, by the look of it, must have been used during the Civil War.

  “Now where was I?” Luke asked. “Oh, yeah. I remember.” His hands slipped around her waist, and he pulled her closer. “I think this is the spot.”

  When the rush of heat swept through her, Hayley tried to pull away. “What do you want, Luke?” she asked, wishing her voice hadn’t wobbled.

  He leaned back, and she felt his gaze move over her face. “That’s an honest question,” he said, “and I’ll give you an equally honest answer. I want you.”

  Hayley’s heart skipped a beat, and she wished it hadn’t. She couldn’t deal with this if she couldn’t keep her emotions under control. “I’m not up for grabs.”

  His smile vanished, replaced by a deep frown. “That’s not what I mean.”

  She shook her head. If she could turn back the clock— But she couldn’t. “I never should have insisted on being a live-in.”

  “It was the only way to make it work. Even I recognized that. None of this is your fault. I lost control the other night, but it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. I’ve been wanting to do it since I first saw you coming up the walk to the house, so it wouldn’t have mattered if you’d been a live-in or not.”

  Her throat clogged with tears, but a nervous giggle managed to escape. “You looked so funny with Brayden wrapped around your legs,” she said, laughing around the tears that threatened to spill. “I was so nervous.”

  He pulled her closer. “What would have happened to Brayden when he was sick, if you hadn’t come back after your class?”

  She couldn’t look at him. “You would have managed.”

  “Would I? I didn’t even have a thermometer that worked. Hayley, please, please come back.”

  Steeling herself against the emotions that threatened to give her away, she shook her head. “I can’t.”

  He tipped her face up with a finger under her chin. “Of course you can. Brayden and I need you in our lives.”

  “No. I’m working at the doctor’s office now, and I’m not going to leave there.”

  “You don’t—”

  She shook her head again, cutting him off. Unable to answer, she closed her eyes. If they’d been honest... If she hadn’t insisted on being a live-in... If she hadn’t had too much to drink... She’d botched it all, thinking her attraction to him would go away if she ignored it. Instead, she’d fallen in love with him, and all he wanted was a nanny for his son.

  “Look at me, Hayley.”

  Reluctant to do what he asked, she warred with herself, certain she was headed for more heartbreak. But she gave in and slowly opened her eyes. She knew in an instant that she’d misjudged him. She’d been wrong, and she could see it in his eyes.

  “I love you, Hayley,” he said, his voice quiet, yet strong and confident. “I want us to be a real family. You, me and Brayden.”

  Stunned, she could barely speak. “Are you...”

  “Proposing?” His smile grew bigger. “You bet I am. And as soon as you say you’ll marry me, we can get out of here.”

  Pure joy filled her as she looked up at him. But nothing was settled. Not yet. “There are a few things you need to know.”

  His eyebrows went up, but he nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to continue working as a nurse at the doctor’s office—”

  “I like that.”

  She smiled, then frowned. “I’m not done. Nothing—and I mean nothing—is going to get in the way of finishing my degree this summer.”

  “We’ll be right there, Brayden and I, when they hand you that diploma.”

  “Paige has already asked if I’ll join her as a PA. I’ve accepted.”

  “Wow. We’ll have an almost-a-doctor in the family,” he teased, but immediately sobered. “I couldn’t be prouder, Hayley.”

  “And one more thing,” she continued, secretly treasuring his words. “I’m going to live in my apartment, until we’re married.”

  He closed his eyes and groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

  But one look at him, and she knew it didn’t matter to him, only she did. “Then it’s all good?

  Opening his eyes, he smiled. “It’s all good.”

  And then he kissed her, long, deep and filled with the promise of a beautiful life together. She’d never felt so loved.

  A knock on the door broke through the cloud of passion surrounding her, and she heard a male voice.

  “Hey, you two. Folks out here are wondering if you have something you want to share. You know, like are you going to get married or something? They’re about ready to storm the office there, where you’re hiding out, and to tell the truth, I can’t take on the whole town.”

  She not only heard, but felt Luke’s rumble of laughter. “Be right there,” he called to Dusty. To Hayley, he said, “You’re sure you want to spend the rest of your life in a town that knows everything you do and say?”

  She laughed and pressed her hand to his cheek. “You must have forgotten that I grew up in a town even smaller than this. More gossip per person.”

  “Good point,” he said and laughed, too. “So you’re ready to face them?”

  “They’re our friends, so, yes, I’m ready.”

  “Then let’s get this done, or we’ll have to stay here and have our meals ordered in.”

  He stopped her laughter with a kiss that made her forget everything except him. When he slowly pulled away and released her, he moved to the door. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. Of everything, especially you.”

  Out in the hallway, he scooped her up and into his arms, carrying her back the way they’d come. “Smile,” he whispered. “It’ll make people wonder what we’ve been up to.”

  She couldn’t stop laughing and had to press her lips together. Ahead, she saw that the café was full of people, all with eyes on the two of them.

  “Anybody wanna take a guess as to what they decided?” Gerald asked in a room where the drop of a pin could have been heard.

  Luke caught her gaze as he continued to walk toward the door, a question in his eyes. She shook her head. Let them guess.

  As they passed Sheriff Rule, he pointed to the star pinned to his shirt. “It’s my duty to warn you, Luke, kidnapping is a felony in this state.”

  Luke nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, Morgan.”

  Someone—Hayley didn’t see who—had the good grace to open the door when they reached it. “Thank you,” she called back to the crowd in the café, as Luke carried her out the door and on to his pickup.

  When she was settled next to him in the truck, and after a kiss that curled her toes, she asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Home,” he said, turning to look at her. “Home to our little boy.”

  * * * *

  Be sure to look for Dylan Walker’s story, Designs on the Cowboy, available in June 2013!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Rancher’s Son by Leigh Duncan!

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin American Romance story.

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ce stories are heartwarming contemporary tales of everyday women finding love—sometimes where they least expect it—and beginning a whole new life.

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  Chapter One

  Sarah Magarity rose to her tiptoes on the stepladder. The large silver star atop the Christmas tree wobbled when her fingers brushed against it. As she wrestled the heavy ornament from the center post, it tipped, threatening to throw her off balance. For a second, Sarah saw herself lying on the floor, alone and injured, through the long holiday weekend. Normally hectic on a Thursday afternoon, the Department of Children and Family Services in Fort Pierce, Florida, had slowly emptied once the tech guys shut down the computers for a system-wide upgrade. Now only a tree that smelled more like plastic than pine stood between her and a much-needed two weeks out from under a crushing workload.

  Two weeks of white, sandy beaches and a cell phone that didn’t buzz with a new crisis every ten minutes. Two weeks of gathering plants for her growing collection of tropical flowers. Sarah took a deep breath and braced herself against the wall. She could almost smell Hawaiian orchids and plumeria.

  Dreaming of ukuleles and fruity concoctions decorated with tiny umbrellas, she whistled a slightly off-key version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Carefully, she toted the star down the ladder. Her foot had barely touched the worn carpet when one of the doors at the main entrance swung open. Sounds of heavy traffic on U.S. Highway 1 blared into the office before the door swished closed. Silence, broken only by the noisy hum of an air conditioner, once more filled the room.

  “C’mon, Jimmy.” A voice whined over the warren of empty cubicles. “We hav’ta find someone pronto. It’s late.”

  Late for what?

  Sarah swallowed a groan. Whoever had arrived at four-thirty on Christmas Eve, they were late, all right. The holiday party for kids in foster care had ended at two.

  “Can I help you?” Sarah prayed the curvy brunette rounding the last of the partitions wanted nothing more than grocery money. A couple of ten-dollar gift cards, and not much else, remained in the emergency fund.

  “This is Jimmy Parker.” The woman’s plunging neckline dipped perilously low as she placed her hand square on the back of the little boy at her side and shoved. The child stumbled forward. “His mom asked me to drop him off.”

  Sarah mustered a smile for the pair of sad brown eyes that peered up from beneath a thatch of sandy-blond hair. The boy’s hollow gaze met hers only briefly before he looked away. When his focus dropped to a pair of tattered sneakers, Sarah hiked an eyebrow. She skimmed over high-water jeans, frowned at a shirt Goodwill would reject. Fighting a protective nature that made her want to wrap the little boy in her arms and make everything right in his world, Sarah stiffened her spine.

  The brutal truth was, a dozen kids just like this one walked into the DCF offices each month. She had a hundred more open cases in her file cabinet. She couldn’t give every child assigned to her the attention they deserved. Not and still keep her sanity. The situation was far from her idealistic dream of how things ought to work. But there were too many at-risk kids, too few dollars to go around and too few workers to do the job.

  Letting her eyes narrow, she faced the older of her guests head-on. “You’re too late.” She grimaced when a little more vehemence than usual crept into her voice. “The party was hours ago. You should have been here then.”

  Despite herself, Sarah glanced across the room at a whimsical mural of a sleigh propelled by eight flying porpoises. Were there any presents left? Not a chance. Every gift from Santa’s bag had been distributed into the eager hands of other kids who were just as needy as this one.

  “Party?” The latecomer’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Who said anything about a party?” The brunette chewed a wad of gum and swallowed. “I promised to deliver the kid, and here he is.”

  An uneasy feeling settled in Sarah’s chest when her visitor dropped a worn duffel bag to the floor.

  “Hold on a sec,” she ordered. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning and tell me exactly what brought you here. I’m Sarah Magarity, the senior caseworker.” She paused for a look around. With no husband or children of her own to rush home to, she’d offered to keep the office open until closing time. A skeleton staff would report in on Monday and man the offices through the New Year. For tonight, though, she was it. “And you are?”

  “Candy. Candace, really, but everyone just calls me Candy.” The woman settled one hand on a cocked hip. “Candy Storm. And this little guy,” she said, tapping a bloodred fingernail on the boy’s head, “is James Tyrone Parker. Jimmy. He’s five. His mom was my best friend.”

  The implication sent Sarah’s stomach into free fall. She swept another look at the child who studied the stained carpet at his feet. “His mom is…?”

  “Yeah.” Candy blinked several times before patting the skin beneath lashes so long they had to be fake.

  “I think you and I should talk privately.” Sarah motioned toward a nearby cubicle. “Jimmy, I need you to watch TV or play with some toys while Miss Candy and I chat for a few minutes.”

  Without waiting for a response, Sarah took the child’s tiny hand in hers. His thin shoulders and bony frame raised troubling questions. When was the last time this kid ate? How long ago had his mother passed? Who had been taking care of him since then? And where?

  Her tone softened. “I think we have some cookies in the break room. Would you like some?” When Jimmy didn’t answer, she called to Candy. “Does he have any allergies?”

  The woman’s gum snapped and popped before she shrugged a vague “Nope?”

  As the child scrambled onto the couch near the bare Christmas tree, Sarah overlooked his soiled shirt and grimy fingernails, knowing that if she accused the parents of every unwashed youngster of neglect, the foster system would collapse under the load. Bruises or injuries were another matter, and she scanned the child for visible signs. Her breath eased at the sight of pale, but unblemished, skin. Relieved that the boy wasn’t in immediate physical danger—and thus, not really her problem—she clamped a heavy lid over the urge to take him under her wing.

  She couldn’t get involved. Not now. Not when doing so would ruin her plans for the holidays and dash her hope to rest and recharge. And, after five years with the DCF in Melbourne and two more in Fort Pierce, it was either that or quit. No, she shook her head, this little boy was Candy’s problem and he had to stay that way. At least until next week when her coworkers would be back in the office. Steeling her heart, she settled him in front of a cartoon video with a small plate of cookies and a juice box she took from the office refrigerator.

  “Okay, what’s this all about?”

  With Candy lagging behind, Sarah led the way to a cubicle where a line of red X’s across the bottom of the calendar marked the vacation days she had to use or lose according to DCF’s policy manual. She waved her guest into the only other chair in the cramped space and swung to her computer. She stilled. Until the IT department completed their work, no one could access the DCF database. Or learn whether Jimmy Parker
already had a caseworker to look after him.

  With a sigh, Sarah pulled a yellow legal pad and a pen from a drawer and hoped Candy would quickly get to the point. Across the desk, the woman gave her a petulant look, her jaw jutting forward.

  “Millie, Jimmy’s mom, made me swear if anything ever happened to her, I’d bring the kid to Florida,” she said, with an accent from considerably north of the Sunshine State. “She said his dad owns a ranch somewhere near Lake Okeechobee. Jimmy’s named after him.”

  James Tyrone Parker.

  Sarah pursed her lips at the memory of a tall, broad-shouldered rancher with sun-bleached hair. She brushed a speck of dust from the desktop, chasing the image away. Surely there were thousands of Parkers in the hundreds of square miles bordering the largest lake in Florida. There were probably a dozen Jims and Tys among them. The odds against this little boy’s father being the same Ty Parker she’d run out of DCF’s offices last spring were practically astronomical. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to move the rancher’s name to the top of the list.

  “And where’s home, Candy?”

  “New York, of course.” The brunette slid one slim leg across the other. “Me and Millie met at a casting call for an ad agency when Jimmy was just a baby. We was both trying to break into movies.” She leaned forward, nodding the way people did when they had a secret to share. “It’s tougher than anybody thinks. Anyways…” Candy thrust her shoulders back until the fabric of her T-shirt tightened. “I got the gig and Millie didn’t, but we hit it off, you know? Millie, she didn’t have much acting experience. And the kid only made it harder. I’d babysit when I could, but eventually Millie gave up and took a job waitressing. That’s what got her killed. Some guy knifed her f’ tip money.”