Page 13 of Under One Roof

So that’s the faint twang I hear.

“My family owns a cattle ranch there.”

And that explains the cowgirl vibe.

Not that I needed an explanation because, either way, I’m in. She had me from the start.

“And you’re from here?” she asks, closing the distance between us.

“Born and raised.”

“But you said you left.”

“I was in the Navy for a while.”

Her gaze openly tracks down the length of me, and I hold my muscles taut, standing at attention as if I might impress her. Like a fucking chump.

But the rise and fall of her chest speeds up with her breathing, and she obviously likes what she sees, so maybe I’m not so stupid after all.

Especially because her tongue flicks out to the corner of her mouth, a flirtatious slant to her lips, and I don’t remember the last time I wanted a woman so badly.

And she’s here to be my kids’ nanny.

Fucking son of a bitch.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and inhale, hoping to clear my thoughts. All it does is fill my lungs with her scent, flowers and coffee, and I’d like nothing more than to bury my face in her neck.

“So…” I cough. “You want to tell me more about your background?”

She toys with the zipper of my hoodie, the one that’s hers now. “There’s not a whole lot more to tell than what you already know. I’m from Texas and moved to LA to be a songwriter. I’ve been there for the last ten years, and I worked with a temperamental but exacting boss for the last three years. I’m adept at managing schedules, and I think I’m a quick learner, efficient.”

Efficient. Like how quickly I’d be able to have her stripped naked in front of me.

Which is not exactly what I need to be thinking about right now.

In an attempt to move on, I ask, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

Good Christ. I’m lusting after someone nearly fifteen years younger than me.

She looks even younger when she asks, “Do I get to know how old you are?”

“Forty-two.” And because I need to pull back, I tell her, “My schedule can be a bit chaotic. I typically work twenty-four-hour shifts, but they can sometimes be longer, depending on the call volume and emergencies we face.”

She nods along, her smile teasing. “And you’re the boss?”

“I have a team to manage, yeah.”

She steps toward me, so she has to tilt her head back to keep my gaze. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Nothing I’m not used to.”

She arches her brow in a silent question.

“I wasn’t just in the Navy. I was a SEAL.”

Her mouth drops open, eyes widen, and I love how sweet she looks when she’s startled.

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