Page 3 of Nanny for the Cowboy

“You babysat all the time when you were younger, and you like kids.” There’s a pregnant pause, and my nerves spike, already guessing where my dad is going with this. “Your mother always wanted us to get away from the city. Now that it’s just me…I know she’d want you to see this place.”

And cue the guilt trip. Ugh, Christ.

“Dad, that’s…ugh, you know what? I’m too tired to deal with this right now.” I shake my head, overwhelmed and on edge and missing my mother more than ever. “I’ll think about it.”

“Clover, I?—”

“I promise, Dad. I’ll think about it, sleep on it if you will. But I…I just have to lay down. Today has been a fucking nightmare.”

There’s a slight chuckle from the other end. “New York has certainly rubbed off on you. Alright, sweetie. Get some rest. I’ll call to check on you in the morning.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

Hanging up, I toss my cell onto the couch. I’m not sure how much actual sleep I’ll be doing, but I’m not ready to jump into being a goddamn nanny because Kyle is being a jerk.

I push my fingers beneath my glasses, thankful that I at least remembered not to sleep in my contacts, and rub my eyes. This is all way too much for a single person to deal with.

Knock, knock, knock.

Swiveling in that direction, I eye the door like it might attack me. It’s locked, and I have the alarm system armed, so in theory, I’m safe.

Don’t do it. Don’t answer.

But I’m apparently a bigger idiot than I give myself credit for because I’m walking over to the door and reaching for the knob. At least I had the wherewithal to grab my phone.

“Hello?”

There’s no response as I call out, so I peer through the peephole. There’s no one there.

I take a moment to disarm the system on my phone and then unlock the deadbolt. My heart is in my throat as I slowly inch open the door.

Still, I can’t see anything, and when I dare to pop my head out and eye the hallway, no one is there to grab me or something far worse.

I’m alone.

Tension recedes slightly from my muscles, and then something crumples beneath my foot. I look down to discover a folded-up piece of paper lying on the carpet.

Reaching down, I snag it quickly and dart back inside my apartment. The door is locked again, and the alarm is armed. I’m safe inside my home, but damn, it doesn’t feel that way.

I know Kyle is pissed, and I have to imagine that it was him, but I can’t bring myself to trulybelieveit.

Why take things this far? I know that he had a lot of bad luck after the failed client meeting, but…

That’s all the reason he needs, Clover. Losing your wife is a hell of a motivator.

I look down at the letter—just a folded piece of paper—in my grip. It’s so innocent. It could just be a quick note. Still, I know it’s not.

Before I can gather the courage to look at what’s on the paper, I have to force myself to take several deep breaths. There’s a solid part of me that wants to throw the thing away, but I know I can’t do that.

I need to see what it says. I need to have it in case…

Don’t go down that road. Not yet.

My hands shake as I unfold it. The top third reveals nothing, and the anticipation burns in my guts. When I peel open the bottom, a single line is scrawled across the white printer paper.

You can run, but you can’t hide.

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