Page 22 of Entangled with a Mountain Man

The sound reverberates through the house, ripping me from my concentration.

"Hazel! Harper! Is everything okay out there?"

"Yes, Daddy!" They chorus back a little too quickly for my liking.

“Y'all promised a solid hour to review this contract.” I roll my eyes to the ceiling, praying for a solution before I lose my mind.

My regular support system—my parents—left for their annual road trip. They’re official snowbirds heading to warmer states in the south.

"Sorry, Daddy," is lost in their high-pitched giggles.

"You girls are pushing it." My tone lacks the depth of authority I’m striving for. They know it, too—all too well—as the giggles only grow louder.

I steal a glance at the clock. It's almost lunchtime. I only have a few more minutes before I need to shift gears from tech specialist to single dad.

We just lost another nanny.

Mrs. Jenkins, a sweet older lady with the patience of Job, had barely made it through the front door before she let out a scream that still echoes in my mind.

The twins, in their infinite creativity, had put worms—real, squishy, muddy worms—into her bed as a welcome gift. God knows how they even managed to catch them, but the moment she discovered their ‘surprise,’ she bolted out of the house like a firecracker.

We haven’t seen her since, and I can’t say I blame her.

At this rate, I'll have to find an agency to help me because I can't work with a clear head without support. And my folks aren't expected back in town for another six months.

With the chaos ringing in my ears and a throbbing headache creeping in, I turn back to my desk, searching for focus. The light from my phone flickers in the corner of my eye, drawing my gaze. It buzzes the caller ID, revealing Specter's coded number.

“Ugh, what am I going to do with you two?” I mutter under my breath, gritting my teeth.

There's a fine line between letting the girls enjoy life and driving me insane. I just haven't quite figured out where the line is.

I ignore the ripple of anxiety. I know I owe him a call. But despite the importance of my existing contracts, the twins' antics have consumed my time, making it easy to forget he's awaiting my response.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for the conversation ahead. I reach for the phone, but just as my fingers brush the screen, another crash booms from the living room, followed by a fresh chorus of gut-wrenching laughter, as if the twins are conspiring to make me lose my shit.

But I have to handle this call. Because being a single parent doesn't thwart my responsibilities.

I swipe to answer, covering the receiver to block out their laughter.

"Logan," I answer, keeping my voice low and steady.

"Ghost," Specter's distorted voice comes through. "Do you have an answer for me?"

Specter’s voice is always calm and calculating, managing to make even the most critical news feel like a strategic game with high stakes.

I lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. "No, sir. I'm giving it some thought and even have some names in mind, but I need more time to?—"

Another crash interrupts me, louder this time.

Dammit.

"Is this a bad time?" Specter asks, a hint of amusement in their voice.

"No, sir," I reply, gritting my teeth. "Domestic issues."

"Ah, the joys of fatherhood," Specter muses. " You've got two weeks to assemble your team. Which means I need an answer like yesterday. After that, we move forward with or without you."

My stomach clenches. Two weeks. Christ.

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