Page 19 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
JACE
Wind howls like it’s trying to tear the whole ranch off the earth. Rain slams sideways into my face, sharp as gravel, soaking me from head to toe. The gates rattle, steel clanging against steel, the horses screaming from inside the barn—high, panicked, desperate.
“Jace! Back inside!” Beck’s voice barely cuts through the roar. He’s fighting with a rope that’s whipping like a live thing, Zane on the other side trying to drag the gate closed.
I shove forward through the mud, half-stumbling, half-running, my body a fireball of pain. My leg protests with a hot, electric pain that goes straight through my ribs; my left shoulder is a constant dull, angry throb. My hands are shaking from exertion. I’m half-broken, not broken.
They want me out of this, want me safe, tucked away like some useless ornament. Hell no! I’ve bled for this land, and I’ll break the rest of me before I sit and watch it tear apart.
I push past my brother’s outstretched arm. “I said I’m coming,” I tell him, and there’s no patience in it—only the small, stubborn truth.
I can still lift a gate, tie a knot that won’t give, and tell a man where to hold and where to push. This is my ranch, too, dammit, and I’m going to help them protect it.
A gate slams wide open, causing a young gelding to bolt into the storm, eyes rolling white. My gut lurches, but my legs are already moving. I catch the edge of the chain, hauling it back into place while Beck swings into the mud beside me, both of us shoving our weight into steel that fights harder than any bull I’ve ever ridden.
Lightning flares, blinding white, and for a breath, the whole yard glows. Then the hum of the floodlights dies, followed by pure darkness. The mechanical whir of the auto-gates cuts off. The whole ranch falls silent except for the storm and the terrified animals.
It’s a blackout.
“Generator!” Zane bellows.
I’m already moving, half-limping, half-running, lungs burning from more than the storm. I know the layout of this place in my bones. Past the feed room, up the slick slope of mud to thecontrol shed. My shoulder slams against the door, and I spill inside, fumbling through the dark.
The panel blinks dead at me. No juice. I grab the manual override, fingers trembling too much to get the sequence right. The keys slip as my breath fogs the glass.
“Come on, damn you,” I mutter, stabbing commands that’ll make the system bend. Nothing. Just the mocking flat line of silence.
Behind me, I can hear the clang of a gate swinging loose, the wild snort of a gelding too smart for his own good. My chest knots because I know if we lose them in this weather, they won’t come back.
I pound the side of the panel with the heel of my hand, pain sparking through bone. “Son of a bitch. Work!”
But it doesn’t, not for me.
The panel stares back blankly. My pulse is in my throat, every nerve buzzing with useless rage. I know these systems; I had them put in. But my hands are clumsy, shoulder’s shot, and the override just keeps spitting me out like I’m some rookie with no right to touch it.
“Move.”
Her voice slices through the dark, steady, low, not asking.
I twist and there she is—hair whipped loose from the storm, rain dripping off her jacket, eyes sharp as a blade. Tessa. The one I was ready to throw off this land after I discovered her betrayal. The one who has me doubting myself since I failed to properly vet her before I let her on my land.
She doesn’t wait for permission as she slides past me, fingers flying over the keys, bypassing the sequence I just butchered. Her movements are clean, practiced, and confident in a way that makes the pit of my stomach tighten.
“You’re wasting time trying to brute force it,” she says, not even looking at me. “This system’s layered. You have to trick it.”
Trick it? Jesus.
Lines of code stream across the screen, a blur my fogged brain barely keeps up with. She mutters under her breath, snapping a wire into place, rerouting the current like she’s done this a thousand times.
Then a hum, low and beautiful, just as the generator kicks in. The lights above us flicker once, then hold. Outside, the gates lock into place with a satisfying clang. The horses quiet, and the alarms still.
Relief hits me so hard my knees nearly buckle. I brace myself on the panel, staring at her like she just pulled the whole ranch back from the edge of a cliff.
Tessa exhales, shoulders easing, and only then does she glance at me. “There. You’re welcome.”
For the first time since she set foot on my land, I don’t see a threat standing there. I see salvation. And it stings almost as much as it steadies me. She doesn’t flinch under my watchful gaze, shrink, or fidget. She meets me head-on, like the storm outside couldn’t touch her, like my glare’s nothing compared to the things she’s already faced.
Her hair’s plastered to her cheek, a streak of mud across her throat. She looks like hell—wild, messy, stubborn. But steady. God, so steady.
