Page 52 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
This will be the first time I’m leaving Wrangler Creek since I arrived, and I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it. I only leave the ranch to drop and pick Daisy up from school on the days she does not take the bus, and I’ve been to town a few times for supplies, but never further than that.
Yes, I’m scared and anxious, but also excited because Daisy is. We’ve grown a lot closer, and even though I should not be getting attached, I am. So for this trip, I’m choosing to leave the negative behind and take it as a bonding experience with my favorite Morgan.
I hear Jace’s wheelchair humming just before the man himself wheels in, freshly showered, damp hair pushed back, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looks every bit the handsome cowboy I’ve been fooling around with since his surprise birthday party.
Ever since things escalated that night, I broke my rule of keeping my distance, and things have been good between us. Really good.
Our eyes meet, and he sends a wink my way before he gets to Daisy and smothers her with kisses that send her into a fit of giggles.
“Are you two ready?” he inquires.
Daisy nods excitedly. “I’m ready. We’re going to have so much fun. Right, Tessa?”
“Yes, Bug, we sure will.”
She then turns to her dad. “Are you going to miss me?”
He kisses her forehead. “I always miss you.”
She giggles and kisses his cheek. Her oatmeal is getting cold, so I remind her to finish it while I serve Jace some coffee and breakfast. Our hands brush as I pass him his plate, my whole body lighting up at the contact. The kind of power this man has over me is scary.
I pull away quickly, suddenly too aware of the intimacy of it, the kind that takes you by surprise and leaves you breathless.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to do this. You’re braver than me. Two days surrounded by second-graders? I’d rather wrangle cattle with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m demanding a pay raise after this.”
He chuckles, tipping his coffee mug at me. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I’m sure I can afford whatever you throw at me.”
“Cocky bastard,” I mutter, but I cannot deny how attractive he is when he is so sure of himself.
And he’s right, he can afford it. If there is one thing I’ve learned since being here, it’s that the Morgans are extremely wealthy. They have tapped into the ranching industry, with more land than they know what to do with. Their horse breeding program is one of the best in the world, with clients as far as Asia and Australia. This family is so rich, if they paused all operations today and stopped making money, they’d be financially set for ten generations to come.
Breakfast is filled with light banter, the rest of the family sifting in and out to wish us a safe and fun trip. In the midst of it all, ithits how ordinary this feels. Breakfast, small talk, the quiet hum of a home that doesn’t belong to me but somehow fits like skin I’ve already broken into.
But I don’t want to get too comfortable just yet, knowing very well that out there, I am still being hunted.
After breakfast, we head out. Jace drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift, close enough that if I shift my knee an inch, we’ll be touching. I don’t. But I think about it.
Daisy’s in the back seat, chattering about camp songs, sleeping in tents, and all the marshmallows she’s gonna eat. I let her talk because it’s easier than thinking about how natural this feels—the three of us, rolling down this familiar country road like it’s something we do every week. Like we’re a family.
By the time we pull into the school parking lot, the place is buzzing—buses lined up, kids with sleeping bags, parents with coffee cups and goodbyes on their lips.
Jace parks and gets out first, circling to open Daisy’s door. She throws her arms around his neck. “I’ll miss you, Daddy,” she says against his shoulder.
“I’ll miss you more, Bug,” he says, kissing the top of her head, eyes soft in a way that always undoes me.
Our eyes meet over her shoulder, and he mouths, “I’ll miss you too,” which turns me into a blushing mess.
When Daisy pulls back, she glances between us with a smirk that’s far too knowing for a seven-year-old. “You two are being weird again.”
“Weird how?” Jace asks, setting her down.
“Like smiling too much.”
Jace laughs awkwardly, shaking his head, and for a split second, we’re just standing here, two adults pretending we’re not thinking about the nights we can’t talk about.
Then Daisy’s teacher calls her name, and just like that, she’s off, backpack bouncing, braid swinging.
