Page 17 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
Her shoulders stiffen, and she looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. She gathers herself, moving stiffly toward the door. I watch her every step, because I know this isn’t over. It’s never over with someone like her.
And I’ll be ready.
7
TESSA
I slump into the leather chair behind the desk, feeling the slick fabric stick to my palms, my chest still hammering from Jace’s words. Fired? Just like that? Out of the blue, he’s decided that I am a traitor, spy, and a thief in disguise.
My fingers drum nervously on the desk. How could he think that? How could he look at me and see that instead of… me? I came here under a fake name to stay safe, not to sneak corporate secrets or ruin his ranch. And yet, in his eyes, that’s exactly who I am.
Panic curls through me, making it hard to breathe. I shove the chair back slightly and get up to pace the small office, my shoes scuffing the polished floor. He’s given me one hour to pack andleave, but where am I supposed to go? Nowhere else is safe for me.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I dig it out like it’s a lifeline. Sienna. Thank God. I swipe to answer, my voice tighter than I want.
“Si,” I breathe, my composure flying out the window.
“Talk to me. What happened?” Her voice is sharp, but there’s worry under it—the kind that makes me feel both comforted and exposed.
I exhale, flustered. “He thinks I’m here to steal from him, to spy. He fired me.”
There’s a pause—a hiss of air from the other end. “He what?!”
“Fired me,” I repeat, almost laughing in disbelief.
Sienna sighs. “Tessa, get out of there. Right now. Just pack up, leave, and don’t look back. You don’t owe him anything. The minute he found you out, you stopped being safe.”
I grip the edge of the desk, my mind spinning. Leave? My heart wants to argue, but the logic, the fear—everything screams that Sienna is right. I should get out.
“Okay. He gave me an hour, so let me start packing.”
“I’ll get you a flight out.”
“Thanks, Si.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got this.”
I hang up and start packing up. I grab my laptop, the USB drives, and the stack of papers I’ve barely touched since arriving, tossing them into my bag with frantic movements. My fingers fumble over the zipper, and I mutter a curse under my breath. Every second I stay here feels like another mark against me in Jace’s eyes.
The sudden, shrill wail of the ranch’s emergency siren makes me jump, my heart slamming against my ribs. It’s shrill, high-pitched, a scream that rattles through the walls and sets my nerves on fire.
“What the hell?” I mutter, yanking my bag closer to me. I glance at the window, and my jaw tightens. The sky, once serene and dusty blue, is now an angry swirl of gray and black. Clouds churn overhead like some monstrous storm, heavy and fast-moving. The wind picks up, rattling the windows and tugging at the curtains, making the house groan around me.
I spin toward the door, ready to grab the handle and make a run for it. I don’t care about Jace; I don’t care about the storm. I need to leave and get out before things get worse. But the sound of a steady, low voice stops me cold.
“Tessa,” Jace says. He’s in the hallway, standing there like a shadow cast long by the flickering light from the storm outside. His wheelchair is empty. My pulse stutters. “Stay inside. You’re not going anywhere in this.”
This is the first time I’ve seen him off his wheels since I arrived. I almost forgot that he can actually stand and walk since it’s more of an aid than a necessity. He towers over me, his 6‘3“ height making me feel like a 5′1″ midget.
I freeze, staring at him. “I—I can leave,” I stammer, clutching my bag.
“No. Not tonight,” he says, his eyes calm, even as the wind rattles the glass behind him. “You’ll leave tomorrow. But tonight? You stay put. Understood?”
I open my mouth to argue, but the tension in his posture, the way his broad shoulders are squared even without the chair, and the raw intensity in his gaze stop me. I can feel it—the authority, danger, and absolute certainty that he isn’t letting me make this decision.
I bite my lip and nod. “Okay... okay, I’ll stay.”
He watches me for a long moment, then turns and strides out of the room. My jaw drops. He’s moving on his own, the wheelchair abandoned, and my mind reels. I never expected to see him like this—capable, commanding, dangerous. He disappears down the hall, toward the barn and the fields, leaving the wind and the storm to rage outside.
