Page 38 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
Her laugh is soft, and it hits me how easy it is to be around her when she lets her guard down. A part of me—the dumb, stubborn part—wants to keep this moment going forever.
But the lesson isn’t over. Not yet. And deep down, I know it’s going to get a lot harder to keep my hands, thoughts, and my damn heart in check.
I step closer as Tessa adjusts her reins again, noticing she’s gripping them a little too tightly. “Relax your hands,” I murmur, my voice low.
Her fingers brush mine as I guide them to the correct position. Instantly, a spark zings through me, and I curse under my breath. I’m going to need a bath in holy water by the end of this lesson.
“You’re too tense,” I say, letting my hand linger lightly at her wrist for a moment longer than necessary to make my point. She flinches slightly, then exhales and loosens her grip.
“Better,” I say, stepping back but still close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. She’s not just learning; she’s trusting me here. And I can feel every heartbeat in her proximity like it’s synced with mine.
When the horse finally moves smoothly under her, I can’t hide the pride in my voice. “You’re getting it. Really getting it.”
“Thanks,” she says softly, almost a whisper, but it lands in my chest with the force of a cannon.
For a second, the world narrows to the three of us: me, her, and this stallion she’s finally commanding. And I realize that maybe this close, quiet moment is exactly why I didn’t want to teach her. Because the more time I spend near her, the harder it is to keep my distance.
I clear my throat, straighten my back, and remind myself: it’s a lesson. Nothing more.
By the third lap around the corral, she’s starting to get the hang of it. The reins are steady in her hands, her back straight, and the horse obeys her subtle cues instead of mine. I can feel the tension in her shoulders ease, replaced by this fragile little spark of confidence that makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t like admitting.
“You’re doing really well,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “See? Not so scary when you get it right.”
“I think Buttercup’s starting to like me,” she says, patting the horse’s neck like she’s making a declaration.
I glance down at her, noticing the pride in her eyes, the way she sits taller than she did a half-hour ago. It hits me harder than it should: this is the first time she’s trusted herself out here, and I’m lucky enough to be there for it.
“Yeah,” I admit, letting a small smile tug at my lips. “I think you’re starting to earn his respect.”
“You’re doing so good, Tess,” Daisy cheers from the sidelines, being Tessa’s personal cheerleader.
For a moment, I’d forgotten she was here.
“Thank you, Daisy.” Tessa grins wider, and for a moment, I just watch her.
This city girl, who’s supposed to be hopeless in the mud and the heat, who’s supposed to crumble under pressure, is actually conquering something foreign and huge. And I have to remind myself that the sparks I feel aren’t part of the lesson, that my hands are supposed to be guiding the horse, not lingering on her back or brushing against her fingers longer than needed.
But then she leans forward slightly to adjust the stirrup herself, and I catch the faintest tilt of her head toward me, like she’s silently seeking approval. I can’t stop the warmth that spreads through me.
“Alright,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “one more lap. Let’s see if you can do it without me saying a word.”
She nods, determination flashing in her eyes. And as she rides, confident and capable.
“You’ve done well, now let’s do this outside the corral,” I decree just as Duncan, the assistant foreman, walks out of the stables with two horses, ready and saddled for me and Daisy.
We line up at the edge of the corral: Daisy bouncing eagerly on her horse, Tessa adjusting her reins with the tiniest hint ofnerves, and me… well, I’m just making sure no one falls off before we even leave the fence line.
“Ready?” I ask, trying to sound gruffer than I feel.
“Yes!” Daisy chirps, practically vibrating in her saddle.
Tessa glances at me, a mix of excitement and hesitation in her eyes. “I think so,” she admits, gripping the reins a little tighter.
I give a short nod. “Alright. Let’s go slow. Remember what I’ve taught you.”
We move out, and immediately, the quiet tension of the lesson melts into something lighter. Daisy chatters nonstop, pointing out trees, clouds, and random rocks she claims are “magical.” Tessa laughs at her antics, and I can’t stop the small grin tugging at my lips.
At one point, Tessa’s horse stumbles slightly, and I reach out instinctively, hand brushing hers as I steady her. She freezes for a second, eyes locking with mine, and I feel that familiar spark, that pull I’ve been fighting since the lesson began. I clear my throat and focus on the trail, forcing my hands back on the reins.
