Page 22 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
I turn to leave, and my brain starts calculating the systems I need to audit—the passwords, logs—but even as I focus on the practical, I can’t shake the look he gives me. The way his gaze lingers just a second too long, the way his mouth curves, almost like he’s amused at me, at my tension, at... us. Focus, Tessa. Focus.
Still, as I cross the threshold of my bedroom, I can feel it lingering—the heat of that handshake, the pull of those eyes, the unspoken acknowledgment that this wasn’t just a contract. Not entirely.
And for the first time in days, I allow myself a small, quiet thrill. Just a spark, nothing more. Let’s see how far this goes.
I shut the door behind me and lean against it for a second, just long enough to let out a shaky breath. The quiet hum of the mansion feels surreal after the chaos of the storm and the whirlwind of systems I just fixed. My pulse is still high, mind still tangled in the unexpected chemistry I can’t afford to indulge. This is temporary. You get paid. You leave. That’s it.
I set my bag down on the polished bed before wandering into the bathroom for a shower. As I wash the grime, rain, mud, and sweat off my body, I cannot stop thinking about him. I hate that he affects me this much. I’m supposed to be cautious, calculating, and professional. But he’s a hurricane of control and charm, and he doesn’t even need to touch me to leave me rattled.
After I exit the bathroom, my phone buzzes with a message as I’m getting dressed. I grab it, expecting Sienna’s voice to be on the other end, telling me to keep my head down and do my job. My thumb hovers over the screen as I glance at the photo I keep of her, of us, laughing like nothing in the world could touch us, and I feel a pang of longing.
The message is just a random ad, but since I’m already thinking about Sienna, I message her to update her on the change of plans. She tells me that she’s at work and will call me later so we can properly talk about it.
Feeling hungry, I wander out of my room for something to eat. It’s been a long night, and I need nourishment and sleep.
The aroma hits me before I even enter the dining room: roasted meats, herbs, fried potatoes, fresh bread, and sauce. I pause at the doorway, taking in the warm, golden glow of the chandelier, the long polished table, and the Morgan family, who have gathered for a meal. They all look happy—which is good since it means the tornado chaos is now behind us.
“Tessa, we saved you a seat. Join us,” Ella calls out cheerfully, giving me a nod that’s more welcoming than I expect. My chest tightens a little as I consider turning her down.
My stomach grumbles, reminding me I don’t have the energy for it, so I force myself to walk in.
I want to turn around and walk out, but instead I find myself perched at the end of the table. “Thanks,” I murmur. I canfeel him across the room, his gaze calculating, alert, but not accusing. That alone is enough to make me relax slightly.
“Dinner’s ready,” Daisy mutters, plopping a plate of mashed potatoes in front of me with all the seriousness a seven-year-old can muster.
“Thanks, Daisy,” I say, and she beams like I’ve just handed her the moon.
The conversation is light, laughter spilling over at small jokes, stories about the ranch, and tales of livestock gone rogue during the storm. Every so often, I catch a glance from Jace—quiet, reserved, but not cold. There’s a faint acknowledgment there, an understanding that we’re both still dancing around something unspoken.
Zane and Beck lean over, clinking glasses with me in a silent gesture of thanks. “We owe you,” Zane says softly. “Really.”
I shrug, cheeks warming. “Just doing my job. Jace would have had me thrown out if I didn’t fix the systems.”
Our eyes meet, and he doesn’t bother denying it.
“You saved more than just systems,” Beck adds, smiling. “You saved our livestock and us a lot of stress.”
I cannot hold back a proud smile. “You’re welcome.”
“To Tessa, the savior we didn’t know we needed,” Beck toasts, catching me off guard.
“Hear, hear,” everyone echoes as we clink our glasses together.
For the first time since I arrived, I feel a flicker of belonging, no matter how small. Even with the tension and Jace’s hovering, the warmth of the family, soft chatter, and clinking of glasses—it feels human.
Dinner continues with easy conversation, and for the first time, I allow myself to simply be present. Daisy chatters on, the women share stories, men laugh deeply, engaged, and even Jace, ever vigilant, joins in lightly, his usual guarded demeanor softening just enough for me to notice.
When the meal winds down, I retreat back to my room, quietly grateful for the respite, the warmth, and the subtle reminder that even in the most unlikely places, moments of normalcy—and maybe even connection—exist.
10
JACE
I wake with a start, my body still tangled in the remnants of a dream I can’t quite shake. Tessa, pink hair, sharp eyes, that stubborn little smirk that made my pulse jack the moment I saw it.
And in the dream, I didn’t just see her. I felt her. Every curve, every tease, every sharp intake of breath as I—
Fuck.
