The Rancher, the Baby & the Nanny

“You’re not new at all. You grew up here,” she protested.

“I’ve been away a long time, and some people don’t know me or anything about me.”

“And how did you know that I didn’t apply because I wanted to date you?”

Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “You didn’t send me a cute, flirty résumé. You sounded quite earnest about the job. And when I asked if you had marriage in mind, you said no.” His brows arched. “Did I assume wrong?”

“Oh, my, no!” she replied, and saw the corners of his mouth lift in a faint smile. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “It’s just that this is a job—dating has no part in it.”

“I’m teasing. Forget it. You told me you weren’t interested.” He picked up the letters and walked around the desk to toss them in the trash.

“How do you know that there wasn’t that one perfect, older, mature, grandmotherly type in those letters?”

“I read through them. I’ve had so many interviews, I don’t think I can stand one more.”

“So I was sort of chosen by default.”

“No, not really. That day you were out here, you had a connection with Megan. That was important.”

The dining room was another large room with a fireplace. As they walked into the room, she heard a baby’s wail through the intercom.

“Megan is awake. You can come with me to get her.”

Grace hurried with him, and at the nursery door, he stepped aside to let her enter first, but then he moved past her to pick up the crying baby. As he bent over the crib, his T-shirt clung tightly, revealing the ripple of muscles. Grace watched the flex of muscles in his back and arms. His broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist and narrow hips. How was she going to work with this man daily and keep everything impersonal? Just watching him, she felt flushed and warm.

“Have you ever changed a diaper before?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. After my interview with you, I baby-sat a friend’s three-month-old baby several times so I could practice.”

“Good,” he said, holding Megan on his shoulder and patting her. She quieted and he moved to a changing table, changing her diaper swiftly and then picking her up again. “I think I better get a bottle first and then I’ll show you where all her things are and go over her schedule.”

“Let me give her the bottle so she’ll begin to get accustomed to me,” Grace said. Wyatt nodded and handed Megan to her.

“Hi, Megan,” Grace said softly, holding the baby up on her shoulder and patting her. From that moment, for the rest of the day, Grace was busy with the baby and learning about the house and schedules and what Wyatt expected.

“I’ll take care of her at night,” Wyatt said that evening when he gave Megan a bottle. “The only time you have to take over duties after bedtime is when I’m away. Whenever I’m around in the evening, I’ll take care of her.”

“I can help. After all, I’ll be here, anyway,” Grace said.

Megan was fussing and Grace and Wyatt took turns walking her, the only thing that seemed to quiet her. At one point Wyatt told Grace to eat supper. Then she looked after Megan so he could eat.

While Wyatt got Megan to sleep, Grace went to her room to unpack. She could hear him in the nursery, talking and singing softly to Megan, and later, the creak of the rocking chair.

Grace put her clothes in a large chest of drawers, looking again at the beautiful room where she would live. Too clearly, though, she could remember Wyatt standing in it, watching her curiously with his brows arched. There were moments when he seemed to focus his full attention on her, and those moments made her pulse race.

It was difficult to reconcile the man who was rocking and singing to a tiny baby in the next room with the person who ran out on a young woman he got pregnant when they were in high school. If anyone seemed the perfect, totally caring father to a baby, it was Wyatt Sawyer. Perhaps the years had changed him.

It was after midnight and the house was quiet when she showered and dressed in her short blue nightgown. She brushed out her hair, climbed into bed and fell asleep.

She had no idea what time it was when she stirred at the sound of Megan crying. She remembered Wyatt saying he would get up in the night with Megan, so she tried to go back to sleep, but the baby continued crying until finally Grace threw back the sheet and got up. She pulled on her blue cotton robe and hurried to the nursery to check on the baby. She noticed the open door to Wyatt’s room. How could he sleep through Megan’s crying?

Avoiding glancing in the direction of Wyatt’s bed, Grace rushed to close his door. While Megan cried, Grace switched on a small table lamp.

“Are you hungry, sweetie?” she asked softly, picking the baby up and walking her, trying to quiet her. She remembered where Wyatt kept formula and bottles and turned to carry Grace to the kitchen.

Just then the door to Wyatt’s room flew open. He started into the room, saw Grace with Megan and froze.

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