Page 35 of Wrangled Love

“I figured a makeshift fix was better than turning the kitchen into a swimming pool,” I reply sheepishly. “I’m usually good at improvising… most of the time.”

She flips the final batch of pancakes and turns off the burner before glancing at me. “Just not the kind that involves tools.” She winks, clearly enjoying this.

I smirk. “Guess I’m better with a hands-on approach.”

“You keep talking like that, and I might start expecting daily maintenance.” She clears her throat, probably realizing how that sounded. It seems we’re both toeing the line between teasing and something more.

“Caleb, what do you say we pay Ziggy a visit after breakfast?” she asks Caleb, changing the subject. “I’m sure he’d love to stretch his legs and play.”

His face lights up, and he nods eagerly.

“Sounds good. Once you finish eating, we’ll head outside.”

Briar opens the shed, and Ziggy bursts out with a happy bleat, hooves skittering as he zigzags across the yard. He’s grown a lot in the past two weeks but still lacks direction. When he spots Caleb, he starts running toward him, but the second he sees me, he freezes. His little legs go stiff, and he collapses to the ground in an overdramatic swoon.

Caleb’s lip quivers with worry as he watches Ziggy collapse. It’s not the first time he’s seen him faint, but it’s been a few days. Briar and Caleb typically visit him in the afternoons when I’m working.

Briar kneels and puts her arm around Caleb. “I think Ziggy’s read too many comic books and is convinced your dad’s a superhero in disguise. He gets starry-eyed and can’t help fainting on sight,” she whispers the last part like it’s a secret.

Caleb peers cautiously at Ziggy, his eyes widening as the goat suddenly springs up and trots toward him—full of energy and pretending I don’t exist.

Briar brushes Caleb’s hair from his face. “See? He just needed a second to regroup from seeing his hero. Now he’s ready to play.”

She releases Caleb and stands as he gently pats Ziggy’s head, laughing when the goat nuzzles into his hand.

I approach Briar, leaning in so only she can hear. “What happened to the goat not being my biggest fan?” I smirk.

She shrugs, raising her hands, palms out. “Guess Ziggy decided you’re not so bad after all.”

Something tells me we’re not talking about goats anymore.

While Caleb and Ziggy chase each other around the yard, Briar grabs the laundry basket she left on the back porch and heads to the clothesline along the side of the house. Several rows of clothes are hung across it, fluttering in the breeze.

The washer’s out of order, and the part Briar needs won’t arrive for another week. That means doing laundry at Julie’s and hanging it out to dry since the weather is nice. As much as I’ve come to like the cottage, the constant repairs to the plumbing and appliances are a hassle. I’ve learned during our time here that Briar has a strong work ethic. Between helping with Caleb and the repairs on the cabins, not much time is left to make a dent in the cottage renovations.

Caleb and me being around hasn’t exactly lightened her load.If anything, we’ve added to it, and I’ve been wanting to do something to prove that I can be helpful. I may not be able to fix a leaky pipe, but I have a black card and a guilty conscience. It’s time I started contributing around here, especially since I’m not paying rent this summer.

I pull my phone from my pocket to email my assistant a list of tasks, asking her to prioritize them first thing Monday morning. Once I hit send, I slip my phone back into my pocket, deciding to hold off on telling Briar. I’ll handle any fallout with her once it’s too late to undo what I’ve planned.

I join her, watching as she folds clothes straight off the line, stacking them into the basket at her feet.

“Need a hand?”

She glances up, shrugging. “Sure.”

I take down a pair of silk pajama pants from the line, smoothing out the fabric between my hands, and fold them before placing them in the basket.

“It’s been ages since I’ve hung clothes out to dry,” I admit.

The last time was probably helping Julie hang all the bedding out at the ranch house the summer before I left for New York.

“Careful, or I’ll start to think you miss the ranch more than you let on,” Briar teases.

I look over at the pastures in the distance where the cows are grazing beneath a sky so big it swallows the horizon. “I did miss it. More than I realized before coming back.”

I’m halfway down the line when my hand stops mid-air, hovering over a pair of pink lace panties with bows on the sides and the words ‘All You Can Eat’ stitched across the front.

A surge of envy sweeps over me as I imagine another man having the privilege of seeing Briar in these—or, god forbid, acting on what they imply. It’s an unreasonable reaction, especially since she’s supposed to just be my son’s nanny and my roommate.But that doesn’t ease the tightness in my throat at the idea of her being with someone else.

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