Page 11 of Tied Up In Tinsel
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “You already asked me that at the bar. So, that question feels more for you than for Ruby.”
“Possibly,” she said, her smile sharpening. “Or maybe I just don’t want any crazy women showing up at my house unannounced.”
“No crazy girlfriends. No wives.”
“Boyfriends?”
“Nope. I love pus?—”
“I’ve heard enough,” she cut in quickly, though I caught the faintest blush creeping into her cheeks.
I hid my grin behind the mug, taking another slow sip of hot chocolate.
“So, do I have the job?”
“Considering I’m in a bit of a pinch…” She extended her hand. “You’re hired.”
Her hand was small in mine, her fingers warm despite the winter chill still clinging to my skin. We shook, but the way her eyes—assessing, lingering just a little too long—told me she might be imagining more than just childcare in my future here.
“Since I’m officially on your payroll now,” I said, my mouth curving into a slow grin, “does that mean date two is out of the question?”
Brooks
I’d been in plenty of situations that involved moving my life from one place to another—cattle ranches, rodeo circuits, even that one summer where I lived in a camper behind a state fairground—but none of those moments came with the added pressure of meeting a pint-sized firecracker who might just decide whether I got to keep my new job.
Three duffel bags. That’s all I had.
It felt almost too small a pile for something as big as moving in with someone—well, notsomeoneexactly. Annie. And her daughter, Ruby. A package deal, she’d made that clear from the jump.
I stepped up onto Annie’s front porch, snow dusting my shoulders, and rapped on the door with my knuckles.
It swung open faster than I expected.
Annie stood there, cheeks pink from the cold, hair loose and a little wind-tousled, looking every bit like the kind of woman small-town Christmas songs were written about. A sweater the color of green, soft and cozy, draped over her frame. She had this way of smiling like she knew exactly how much of it to give before leaving a guy curious for more.
“You made it,” she said, stepping aside.
“Unless I accidentally walked into the wrong house, yeah.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was a twitch of a grin there, too.
I dropped my bags by the door and rubbed my hands together. “So, where’s the boss?”
“The boss?” Annie echoed, one brow arching.
“Ruby. I know she runs a tight ship.”
“She’s in her room. Let me go tell her you’re here?—”
She didn’t even get the sentence out before a stampede of tiny feet came pounding down the hall.
A blur of red plaid pajamas and wild, curly hair rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt in front of me.
“You’re the clown,” Ruby said, her tone so matter-of-fact it made me laugh.
“Rodeo clown. Big difference.”
