Sara Orwig - The Rancher, the Baby & the Nanny

“I’m know I’m being a worrier, but there’s just cause.”

“We’ll see,” Grace said, snapping shut the large suitcase.

Early Monday morning, Grace slowed at the front gate to the ranch, drove over a cattle guard and beneath a wrought-iron arch with the S Bar brand. White pipe fencing stretched for miles on either side, and the rolling land was dotted with oaks and cedars. On a far hill she saw Herefords grazing. Far in the distance she spotted a solitary white horse galloping across a field. The ranch was a beautiful place, and she looked forward to her new job. She tried to avoid thinking about Wyatt’s reputation or Virginia’s warnings. Following a hard-packed dirt road, she crossed a wide, wooden bridge, boards rattling beneath her tires.

She looked down at Cotton Creek, a thin, silvery stream of water. As she neared his house, she topped a hill and saw his sprawling two-story ranch house, more houses beyond the main one, a barn and corral and an assortment of buildings beyond the house and a four-car garage. As she recalled from her first visit, the whole place had a prosperous, well-kept appearance. When she finally reached the house, she saw a shiny black pickup parked on the drive at the side of the house, a large black motorcycle parked beyond it and a sleek, dark-green sports car parked on its other side. She frowned, hoping he didn’t take the baby on the bike.

When she walked up to the door and pressed for the bell, her pulse raced. All morning she’d had butterflies in her stomach, but now her nervousness increased and the butterflies had turned into stampeding elephants. The door swung open, and she looked up into Wyatt Sawyer’s dark eyes and tried not to stand there tongue-tied and starry-eyed. The man was sinfully handsome!

“I thought you might change your mind about the job.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said, too conscious of him, noticing the scent of his aftershave. He stood facing her with his hands on his narrow hips, and he wore faded jeans and a T-shirt. He gazed beyond her. “Why don’t you drive around back? I can bring your things in for you.”

As she turned and walked away, her back tingled. She glanced over her shoulder to see that he was still standing in the open doorway, watching her. Taking a deep breath, too aware now of herself, she hurried to her car. She was wearing her simple navy cotton skirt and a white cotton blouse, and she suspected he wasn’t noticing her as a woman. She wondered if he was debating with himself the wisdom of having offered her the job. He had made it clear he’d intended to hire someone older and more experienced.

When she drove to the back, he came striding out of the house, radiating energy and strength. At the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about the ugly rumors about him when he was in high school. “Just keep your distance,” she said quietly to herself.

Wondering what she had gotten herself into, she popped the trunk and got out of the car.

Wyatt put a bag under each arm and a bag in each hand. “Leave ’em and I’ll get everything for you.”

“I can take something,” she said, picking up a bag. All of her suitcases had wheels, but he could doubtless see that and evidently didn’t want to bother. She had to hurry to keep up with his long-legged stride.

“As soon as we put these in your room, I’ll give you a tour of the house. This is a good time because Megan just fell asleep.”

They entered a spacious kitchen that had a terrazzo floor, fine oak woodwork and pale-yellow tile countertops with a copper vent over the built-in stove. Grace’s spirits lifted a notch as she surveyed her surroundings. An oval oak table stood in the adjoining breakfast room, which had a large bay window with a window seat that looked out on the rolling grounds. The kitchen was light and cheerful, far different from the gloomy family room where he’d interviewed her.

Grace followed Wyatt down a wide hallway, passing beautifully decorated rooms. She noticed her surroundings, but she was more keenly aware of the man striding in front of her, holding four of her heavy suitcases as if the things were empty.

She had brushed off her friend’s warnings about Wyatt, but now that she was here with him, qualms and questions assailed her. Was she entering a wolf’s den, walking into trouble that might cause upheaval in her placid life? Could she possibly keep from falling for him even if he barely noticed her and treated her as professionally as possible? Were the terrible rumors about him true?

He disappeared into a room and she followed, stepping into a large bedroom with an appeal that took her breath. It was elegantly furnished in white and blue, and another grand view could be seen through wide windows.

“This is beautiful!” she exclaimed, looking around and comparing it to her tiny bedroom at home.

“Thanks,” he replied casually. “There’s an adjoining bath, too. Let me give you a tour, and then we’ll get the rest of your things. I’ll have to warn you right now, Megan has had a little cold. She’s been fussy for several days.”

“That’s fine. I can deal with fussiness.”

“I hope so,” he said, studying her as if he could read her thoughts.

“You still sound doubtful, Mr. Sawyer—”

“Wyatt. Mind if I call you Grace?”

“Of course not. Why did you hire me if you have such doubts?”

He clamped his lips together, and she realized that either he hadn’t found anyone else he thought would fit the job or no one else had wanted the job.

“You didn’t have a choice, did you?”

“I just want you to let me know if you want out of this. A screaming baby can shred the patience of some people,” Wyatt replied.

“She won’t shred mine,” Grace said, smiling. “She’s a little baby. But I promise you I’ll let you know if I want to quit. It’s not Megan who worries me.”

She wanted to bite her tongue and wished with all her heart she could take back those last words. His brows arched, and he focused on her with a look that made her want to be anywhere else but in his presence.

“Ah, all those stories you’ve heard about me, no doubt. The wild man of Stallion Pass. Lago County’s bad boy. Is that what worries you?”

She decided this is what people referred to when they talked about being between a rock and a hard place. If she told him what was really worrying her, that she was attracted to her handsome employer, that would be dreadful. But it was equally appalling to tell him that his reputation worried her. Why had she blurted out what she had?

“In caring for Megan, I may have a difficult time pleasing you,” she said.

One brow arched higher, and he gave her an intense look. “I don’t think that’s what you were referring to at all.”

“Maybe not,” she said, feeling her face grow warm, “but I think we should leave it at that.”

He shrugged and turned away. “Come on, I’ll show you the house.” He crossed the room to open a door. “Your room adjoins the nursery. I hope that’s all right.”

“Of course.” She glanced into a pink room with a circus motif and almost as large as her bedroom. She could see the baby sleeping in her crib, a mobile of Disney characters hanging above one end. Wyatt closed the door and Grace realized how close to him she stood. She stepped back quickly and he moved past her. “We could go through the nursery, but we’ll go around it, instead. My room connects to it on the other side.”

This was less-than-thrilling news. Grace frowned and tried to push aside her worries.

As she walked down the hall with him, he motioned her into a room that ran the length of one end of the house. His king-size bed was covered in a deep-green comforter. Surprisingly, shelves with books lined one wall. “That’s a lot of books. Do you do much reading?”