Page 21 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
I should still be questioning her, holding her at arm’s length because of the lies she’s been feeding me. But after tonight, after this? I can’t see her the same way. Not just some spy or a liar.
She straightens, eyes finding mine in the pale gray light, and for a second, it feels like the whole damn ranch has gone quiet just to watch us.
I look away first, jaw tight. Pride’s still there, sure. But underneath it, something else gnaws. Gratitude. And the dangerous start of trust.
Dawn breaks slowly across the horizon, painting the mud and ruin in gold. I’ve lived through storms before. But this one’s left a mark I won’t shake easily.
9
TESSA
I sink onto the edge of the makeshift command chair in the dim glow of the emergency lights, muscles trembling like they’ve forgotten how to hold themselves upright. My hands are smudged with dust and grease, streaks of sweat running down my neck and back, hair plastered to my forehead. Outside, the tornado has passed, but the air is thick, heavy with the smell of rain and overturned soil.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady the pounding of my heart. Everything’s quiet now, too quiet. The barns are safe, the livestock accounted for, and the critical systems humming back to life. For a moment, I let myself lean back, letting exhaustion pull me down like gravity finally remembered me.
I glance at the control panels, the digital readouts blinking steadily. It’s surreal—just hours ago, every warning light screamed at me, alarms blaring like the world was ending. And I actually helped prevent it from doing so.
A small, incredulous part of me wants to smile, to let pride bloom, but it’s buried under the heat, the adrenaline crash, and the thought of him watching me. I push the thought down and start gathering my gear, stuffing the laptop and cables back into my bag with shaking hands. My body is screaming for sleep, but my brain won’t shut down, not yet. I need to vanish before Jace asks questions I’m not ready to answer.
I swing my bag over my shoulder and exit the command center, taking the path back to the main house to get the rest of my stuff. The halls are quiet, and I’m feeling optimistic about making an easy escape, that is, until I hear the familiar hum of wheels behind me.
“Going somewhere?” Jace’s unmistakable voice cuts through the air, calm but carrying the weight of command, the kind that makes you freeze without even realizing it.
I stiffen and turn around to face him, bag halfway off my shoulder. “I—uh... I just wanted to—“ My voice falters. I know I shouldn’t lie, but I can’t tell him the truth.
“You’ve done well. Working side by side all night has allowed me to see that,” he says, stepping closer, the wheels of his chair creaking softly on the polished floor. “And I’d like you to stay.”
I swallow hard, heart hammering. Stay? After everything?
“You can leave as soon as your work here is done,” he adds, reading my expression, calm and sure, the kind of certainty I haven’t met in months. “You’ll get paid in full, no questions asked, as long as you finish the original contract.”
I pause. The money is good, enough to disappear for a while, to lie low until the AegisTech fallout dies down. Plus, he’s assuring my safety while I figure things out. If he sticks to his word and doesn’t call the cops on me, then I’ll be good to stay here. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.
His eyes linger on me a second too long, and I feel that subtle spark again—the one I’m trying so hard to ignore. I force my attention back to my bag, clenching it tight, telling myself this is just business.
I clutch my bag a little tighter, my knuckles whitening. My brain is screaming at me to run and disappear before he looks too closely, before he asks the wrong questions. But I freeze, because the way he’s looking at me—it’s not just authority. There’s a flicker there, something I can’t quite name, and it makes my chest tighten.
“You’re serious,” I say, voice tight, testing him. “You’re really letting me stay?”
His lips twitch, almost like a smile, but it’s cautious, measured. “Yes. I’ve got to take advantage of your skills while I can.”
I let out a shaky breath, trying to force my racing thoughts back into order. That’s the practical part of me speaking, the partthat survived the tornado and every nightmare I’ve faced since AegisTech blew up. Safety and money. That’s all that matters.
“And that’s it?” I ask, watching his eyes. “No background checks, no more interrogations about my past?”
He leans back slightly, the creak of his wheelchair subtle under him. “No,” he says. “You’ve earned at least that much credit.”
I swallow, feeling a weight lift but also a strange tension knot in my stomach. I want to argue, to demand more clarity, to push back, but I know better.
“Alright,” I finally say, voice firmer than I feel as I extend my hand. “Then it’s a deal.”
He pauses for a beat, and I swear I feel him studying me, the way his dark eyes linger longer than necessary. The air between us hums with unspoken words, half-acknowledged tension, and maybe something more dangerous.
He takes my hand, firm and steady, and I shake it. The contact is brief, formal, but I can feel the warmth through the touch, a quiet pulse that leaves my fingers tingling long after. I pull my hand back, forcing myself to focus, forcing myself to ignore the spark, the memory of the way he held me before, the one-night stand I can’t quite shake.
I nod, swallowing down my racing heartbeat. “I’ll do my best.”
“I’ll expect nothing less,” he says, voice low and serious, but with that subtle edge that makes me question everything I’ve decided to feel.
