Page 5 of Giddy Up, Daddy

Stafford Hill let out a sigh of impatience as he paced back and forth across the living room.

Not only was she late, but now she was sitting out in her car doing God knows what while he waited for her.

Didn’t she know that this was a working ranch? He didn’t have time to wait around while she gave herself a pep talk or put on some lipstick or whatever the heck it was that she was doing.

Nope. This wasn’t going to work.

But you’re desperate, remember? The house is filthy, you’re sick of microwave meals and the old man needs someone to watch him.

His grandfather had run off the last three housekeepers he’d hired and the agency was now refusing to send anyone else out. Leaving Stafford no choice but to advertise.

Unfortunately, only three people applied. This woman was the last candidate and his final hope since the other two hadn’t been suitable.

Finally, there was a knock on the front door. Stafford ignored the dust on the furniture and the faded wallpaper as he stormed toward the door.

He opened it so forcefully that it let out a protesting creak. Everything in this house creaked or groaned. The old girl wasn’t aging gracefully.

Of course, it would help if his grandfather would let him do some updates. But he never let him touch anything when it came to the house or its surrounds. Thankfully, Grandpa Jack couldn’t get out on the ranch anymore or he might have protested all of the improvements that Stafford had made there.

But that was Stafford’s domain.

He stared down at the woman standing on the front porch. Dear Lord.

She was tiny.

Was she even fully grown? He towered over her.

Her caramel-colored hair was a curly mess around her head.

He moved his eyes lower over her black sweater, faded blue jeans, and worn purple boots.

Purple boots?

Had he ever seen purple boots before? She hadn’t really dressed up for her interview, but he guessed that it was better than turning up in heels like the last candidate had.

“You’re late,” he barked. Shit. He hadn’t meant to snap at her but having to wait was annoying.

Stafford hated being idle.

“Wow, your eyes are amazing. Have they always been that blue?” she replied.

Great.

He could tell this wasn’t going to work. This had happened with housekeeper number two. She’d started to pay more attention to him than Grandpa Jack and the house. She’d ‘accidentally’ brush up against him with her breasts almost falling out of her top. She’d keep asking for his help with things that she should have been capable of doing herself.

It had driven him insane.

And then one night he’d walked into his bedroom to find her lying naked in his bed.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Stafford crossed his arms over his chest. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What? Why?” she asked as he stepped past her, closing the door behind him.

He strode toward her car. “You can leave now. Thanks for coming.”

“But . . . but . . . what happened?” She caught up to him, her hazel eyes wide with worry. “You didn’t even ask me any questions!”

---