Page 23 of Curvy Nanny for the Cowboy

“Go on,” he murmured, still half asleep. “Get up,” he urged, even as his arms tightened around my waist, and then one hand snaked up to grab my bare breast. His fingers pinched my nipple, and I felt it right where he meant me to, between my thighs. “Who’s stoppin’ ya?” That southern Texas accent was only stronger in his half-asleep state, and it was hotter than the midday sun.

“You’re teasing me,” I purred and arched into his touch, silently begging for more.

“You want me to stop?” The question was barely a whisper, but the heat of his breath against my neck was better than a shot of espresso. “Say the word.”

I turned in his arms and pushed at his chest, straddling his hips. “Don’t stop,” I answered and then kissed him long and slow, deeper and deeper until we were both panting and breathless as our bodies sought one another out. Hands clasped and legs tangled together, we pumped and grunted, hungry for each other until we found what we were looking for.

Bliss.

Satisfaction.

It was the perfect way to start the day, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I drove into town with Hunter in back, firing off enough questions to impress an FBI interrogator. It felt odd driving after so many weeks without it, but the drive took about twenty-five minutes, and I was busy—and smiling—the entire time.“What

are we gonna do here?” Hunter looked around with wide eyes, and I wondered when he last left the ranch.

“We’re going to do some shopping to pick up a few learning tools. I could’ve ordered them online, but I thought you might like a day out.”

“Okay!”

The town was small and didn’t have much in the way of educational tools, but I managed to find a few things that could double as toys and tools. I picked up some yarn, popsicle sticks, and poster boards for a few activities I had in mind, and some animal-themed flashcards to aid with the basics. Hunter was a precocious kid with a lot of energy, so his teachers would need to be creative to keep him engaged.

“What’s next?”

I smiled at the polite question, which was a clear sign that Hunter was over shopping. “Next, I need boots, and then we can rustle up some lunch. Sound good?”

He gave an exaggerated nod. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” I shot back as I took my haul to the cash register.

“You’re new,” the woman behind the cash register declared with a smile.

“I’m Hunter’s nanny. Molly,” I introduced myself.

Her gaze shot to the little boy and then to me; curiosity burned in her blue depths. “You work at the McCall Ranch.” It wasn’t a question. “Colton is just delicious, isn’t he?”

I opened my mouth to tell her, what exactly, I didn’t know, but Hunter beat me to it. “Daddy can’t be delicious. He’s not food.”

The woman realized her mistake, and her cheeks burned bright pink. “That’s true,” she agreed. “He’s not.” But her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in. “He is quite the snack though, isn’t he?”

I nodded and handed over the credit card Colton insisted I use. “He is easy on the eyes; that much is true.” I shuffled us both out of the store with a quick farewell before the woman could say anything else.

Not that it mattered because it was the same at the General Store where I picked up a pair of boots so I didn’t have to wear my sneakers around the ranch. Everyone was curious about Colton and, by extension, his new nanny. The consensus was that he was a catch, but he hadn’t dated since his wife died. “Lucky girl,” the elderly woman who rang me up at the General Store declared after giving me a long, assessing look. “If I’d had those curves in my day, I would’ve snagged me a guy like Colton McCall. Good luck to ya,” she said and pinched Hunter’s cheeks.

“Why are you so lucky?” the little boy asked when we got settled at a diner half-full of men and women who looked as if they worked the land for a living.

I smiled at Hunter’s question and leaned forward as if I had a secret. “Everyone is jealous that I get to work with you every single day. Or maybe it’s because I get to see Peanut Butter.”

He smiled wide. “Peanut Butter is cool, but I’m cooler.”

“Without a doubt.” I smiled again, amazed by his confidence. This was a kid who knew he was loved, and that was a beautiful thing. “Ready to order?”

“Can I have a burger?” He flashed a charming smile that pulled a laugh from me.

“With peas or a vegetable of your choice, yes. We split the fries.” Negotiating with toddlers required the same mental toughness as a boardroom.

“Potatoes are vegetables,” he answered cheekily.

“Yes, but deep-fried vegetables have to be eaten with a non-fried vegetable. Those are the rules.”

---