Page 36 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
“Hey,” I finally say, my voice softer than I mean it to be.
“Hi.” She scuffs her socked foot against the floor, looking down.
The silence stretches. I tug at a loose thread on my blanket, wishing I could string the right words together. Wishing I knew how to talk to her without making it worse.
“You, um…” Daisy frowns, kicking a little harder at the floorboard. “You were packing?”
The question hits sharp, but her tone isn’t accusing. Just wary.
My throat tightens. “I thought about it.” The truth slips out before I can dress it up. I wait for her to flinch, to snap, to stormoff again. But she doesn’t, so I keep going. “Not because of you, Daisy. Not really. More because I don’t know if I’m good at this. Being here. Being someone you can even stand to be around.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, quick and sharp, like she’s testing whether I mean it.
“I’m scared most of the time,” I admit, my voice low. “Scared I’ll mess up, scared I’ll make things harder for you instead of easier. Yesterday, when you got upset… I didn’t know what to do. And I hated myself for that.”
The silence that follows is thick, but not hostile. Daisy shifts her weight, chewing on her bottom lip the way I’ve seen Jace do when he’s lost in thought. Finally, she whispers, “I didn’t think you liked me.”
The confession knocks the air out of me.
“What?”
She shrugs, eyes back on the floor. “You’re always so… nervous around me. And you tell me to do my homework and brush my teeth and all that stuff, but it feels like you don’t… want to. Like you’d rather be anywhere else.” Her little voice wavers. “So I thought maybe if I yelled loud enough, you’d admit it.”
My chest squeezes. I press my hand to it like that might keep it from breaking. “Daisy… no. I don’t dislike you. I—God, I don’t even know if I’m doing this right, but I do want to be here. With you.”
Her head tips up, finally meeting my eyes. There’s a shine of unshed tears there, fragile but fierce.
“You do?” she asks, small and disbelieving.
“Yes.” The word comes out steady this time. “I just… don’t know how to do this properly yet, but I promise, I’m trying.”
She blinks at me, long and searching, like she’s trying to see if I’ll flinch or take it back. I don’t. I sit still, even though every nerve in me is buzzing, waiting for her to decide if I mean it.
“You’re not gonna pack and leave?” she asks finally, chin tilting toward the closet. There’s a tremble under her words, like she’s bracing for the answer she doesn’t want.
I shake my head slowly. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
She chews on that, literally biting her lip until it goes pale. Then she climbs up onto the bed, legs folded under her. It feels huge, her choosing to come closer instead of standing at the door like she might bolt.
“You don’t know ranch stuff,” she says, matter-of-fact.
I huff a laugh, the tiniest smile tugging at me. “You’re right. I don’t. I’m hopeless out there.”
Her eyes narrow, but not unkindly. More like she’s measuring me. “And I don’t know school stuff.” She hugs her knees to her chest. “I’m not good at school,” she blurts, almost too fast. “Dad says I’m smart, but… I don’t get things like other kids.”
There it is, the crack in her armor. She doesn’t meet my eyes, her voice wobbling at the edges.
“Hey. You’re plenty smart. Sometimes it just takes finding the right way for things to click. And if you want, I can help. We’ll figure it out together.”
I reach out before I can stop myself, resting my hand lightly on her arm. “So maybe we could help each other out. You teach me the ranch stuff. I’ll help you with homework.”
Her head jerks up, eyes wide. “Like a trade?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Like a trade. Partners.”
She stares at me for a heartbeat too long, then finally, finally lets a grin crack through. “Okay. But only if you don’t cry when you fall off a horse.”
I laugh, the sound shaky but real. “I’ll try my best not to.”
