“WHY ARE THERE so many horses?” Wyatt’s shaggy dark hair blew in the wind as he stared wide-eyed out the open passenger’s window.
“There’s probably a lot of horse farms around here.” Clara squinted up at the street sign dangling from the single traffic light in downtown Moss Creek.
Wyatt’s head turned her way, brows coming together over his big brown eyes. “Don’t they call them ranches?”
“Yes.” Clara took a deep breath, struggling to get the air to move in a way that felt even a little relieving. “I believe they do.” The drive here was wearing on her almost as much as the past twelve months.
“Why do they call them ranches?”
She watched as the cars passed, doing her best to sound relaxed. “I’m sure Mrs. Pace can tell us when we get there.”
“You think she’s like a grandma?”
Clara fought in another deep breath, trying to ease the tension that never seemed to leave her body. Answering questions should not be this big of a deal, even when the string of them never seemed to stop.
This year had been just as hard on her sweet little boy. He needed her to be the best mom she could.
Especially now that she was the only parent interested in being a part of his life.
Not that it was much different than before. Now it was just more official.
Paperwork and all.
“I think she’s like a mom. That’s why she needs a nanny.” The light turned red, stopping the intermittent cars spaced just far enough she couldn’t turn earlier. Clara eased her second-hand sedan onto the one-way cross street before glancing at the map displayed on her phone to be sure she was headed in the right direction.
“If she’s a mom, then why does she need a nanny?” His question was so honest. So genuinely confused.
It calmed the unrest brewing in her belly. The fears she’d been harboring since packing up their belongings and moving them out of California and into a new state.
A new life.
Without a word of fight from her soon-to-be ex-husband.
“Not all moms are as lucky as I am.” Clara shot Wyatt a smile as she reached across to squeeze his hand in hers as a lump formed in her throat.
He’d been through so much. The loss of his home. His way of life.
His father.
Twat that he was, it was still a loss.
“You think they’ll have horses?” Wyatt was back to looking out the window, his hand still clasped in hers.
“I’m pretty sure they do.” Clara glanced down at the gas gauge before checking the mileage left on their trip. It was going to be as tight as the constraints she had to keep on her bank account.
But until the twat finally signed the divorce papers, she was stuck with nothing since it turned out Richard was just as successful at manipulating the system as he was at manipulating women.
Including the one currently incubating his next child.
“I hope they have horses.” Wyatt’s free hand gripped the base of the open window letting in the warm Montana air. “You think they’ll let me pet one?”
“Maybe.” Clara’s stomach squeezed as the number indicating the depletion of her gas tank dipped lower. “We have to be good guests, though.”
“I know.”
They’d been over it a hundred times on the long trip. While Red Cedar Ranch might be their new home, it was someone else’s home first.
Which meant it was still better than the tiny one-bedroom they’d been sharing for the past year, pinching pennies in the hopes that Richard would finally realize he couldn’t simply walk away from his responsibilities.
Clara’s heart picked up as the number of miles remaining on her tank dipped to single digits. She’d been sure they had enough. Positive she could milk the last bit to get to Red Cedar Ranch then wait on her first paycheck instead of pulling any more money from her rapidly-dwindling account.
“How much farther?” Wyatt leaned to peek at the screen of her phone. “It says six more miles.”
“Yup.” Six miles to go on four more miles worth of gas.
But she was due a break. Hopefully this would be it.
Four miles later it became clear this was not the break fate owed her.
As the engine sputtered and died her heart sank, taking down all the hope she’d pinned on this opportunity. “Godddd—” Her teeth clenched tight as she caught sight of her son’s wide eyes.
Clara pressed her lips together, cutting off the end of one of the many words she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs into the deserted space around them.
There was nothing in sight. Nothing useful anyway.
Just the mountains in the distance and grass and fences and pavement.
Clara closed her eyes.
This was fine.
Fricking fine.
She sucked in a lungful of hot summer air, gritting her teeth against the urge to wallow in the unfairness of it all.
“Someone’s coming.”
Clara snapped her eyes open. She twisted in her seat, looking down the road as she reached across to press one hand against Wyatt’s chest. “Stay here.” She climbed out and onto the shoulderless road her car currently occupied half of.
A gleaming red pickup with extra wheels on the back end eased toward them. A black dog with flopped ears hung out the window, his tongue dangling from a mouth that almost looked to be smiling.
He must be having a better day than she was.
Clara slapped on a smile as the truck slowed to a stop. “Hello.”
The man in the driver’s seat tipped up the front of his tan cowboy hat. “Ma’am.” He leaned to peek toward where her gasless sedan sat. “Car problems?”
“Um.” Clara rolled her lips together, hating that she was going to have to admit to running out of gas. “It’s more of a user error.”
The man chuckled, his smile revealing deep dimples and straight white teeth. “I’ve had a few of those myself.”
Before she could ask if he had a gas can, the man was out of the truck and heading her way. He paused, boots scuffing across the pavement as he caught sight of Wyatt in the front seat. “Well, hey there.” His dark blue eyes came Clara’s way. “You wouldn’t happen to be on your way to Red Cedar Ranch, would you?”
Clara glanced back toward the truck. It was brand new. Clean. Well-kept.
Did serial killers drive nice trucks?
She turned to give the man a once over.
He was tall and muscular. Handsome, but way too young for her to consider him anything more.
He didn’t look like a serial killer.
“Damn.” He clicked his tongue. “Don’t tell my momma I didn’t introduce myself first thing.” He reached a hand her way. “Brett Pace. I believe my momma is who hired you.”
“Your mother is who hired me?” She’s spoken with Mrs. Pace more than a few times over the past month. Never once would she have guessed the woman was old enough for this man to be her son.
Brett’s smile widened. “It’s not me you’re nannying if that’s what you’re worried about.” He shot her a wink.
“Are you a cowboy?” Wyatt was up out of his seat, his head poked through the open driver’s window.
“You could say that.” Brett opened the door. “Come on out, partner. Let’s get you and your momma someplace safe.”
Wyatt immediately jumped out of the car, his attention focused on the open window of Brett’s truck and the canine hanging out of it. “Is that your dog?”
“Sure is.” Brett reached into the car, twisting the keys until he could roll up the windows, before pulling them free of the ignition. “You need anything out of here before we go?”
Did he just think she was going to pack her child up in his truck and let him drive them off to God knows where? “Can I see your driver’s license?”
This man seemed to know who she was and why she was there, but getting murdered in the mountains of Montana would be a fitting end to the past year of hell she’d been through.
And the day already wasn’t promising.
Brett studied her for a second. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No.” Clara held her hand out. “I’m gonna need proof you are who you say you are before I get in that truck.” Mrs. Pace was a friend of the attorney who now had most of the money Clara managed to wrangle away from Richard, but that didn’t mean this man actually knew her.
And she’d blindly trusted a man before.
Which is exactly what led to her standing on the side of a deserted road in Moss Creek, Montana, next to a useless car packed with everything she and her son owned.
Brett reached into the back pocket of his well-worn blue jeans, pulling out an equally well-worn wallet. “Don’t judge a man by what he looks like without his hat.” He passed over the plastic rectangle. The same handsome face smiled out at her, his dark hair matted down close to his head.
The address listed matched the one she’d entered into the map app on her phone three days ago.
“Thank you.”Clara passed the identification back. “Sorry to be so difficult.”
The apology came before she could stop it.
He tucked it back into place. “Don’t be. It’s nice to see someone who doesn’t know every damn thing I’ve done since I was born.” Brett turned to the truck and whistled between his teeth. “Back seat, Duke.” The black dog bounced around a second before doing a full spin and jumping into the back of the truck’s cab.
Wyatt’s brown eyes widened. “He listens real good.”
“Sometimes.” Brett opened the door, catching Wyatt with one palm as the little boy tried to jump in. “Ladies first, little man.”
Wyatt didn’t miss a beat. He backed away, tucking in close at Brett’s side in a way that made her heart ache.
Her son wouldn’t have a father to show him how to be a man.
Just a twat who couldn’t be bothered to put any effort into the child he helped create.
Clara tucked her chin as she passed Brett. She was right in the open doorway when the ridiculous height of the truck stopped her in her tracks. “How do I get into this thing?”
“Reach right up there and grab the handle.” Brett leaned in close enough his body almost brushed hers. “Get a foot in and climb.”
Clara pushed up on her toes, managing to get one hand on the handle he pointed out. Getting her leg up was another thing altogether. She hadn’t planned to climb up the side of a mountain of a vehicle today, and her knee-length sundress was not cut out to keep her poor child and her new boss’s son from seeing the thong she wore under it.
Which meant she ended up dangling from the damn handle, hanging on for dear life like she might be able to hoist her entire body up and in with the strength of that one arm.
Brett’s eyes skimmed down her body, the quick pass stopping at the hem of her dress. “I didn’t really think that one through.”
Without giving her time to prepare, he grabbed her waist and lifted her up and in, hefting Clara into the seat like she weighed nothing.
Somehow she managed not to yelp or flail around in surprise, so that could be counted as a win. Especially on a day like this.
“You’re up, Little Man.” Brett bent at the waist, locking his fingers together and holding them out. “Step up in there.”
Wyatt grabbed the door and immediately punched his foot into Brett’s hands, easily jumping into Clara’s lap. Brett closed the door, holding one hand up for Wyatt to slap. “Good job.”
“Thanks.” Wyatt grinned as Brett walked around to the driver’s door.
“How am I supposed to buckle us in?” Clara fought the seatbelt as Brett opened his door, tipping his head inside to watch her with amused eyes.
“We’re just going two miles down the road. I’ll drive real careful.”
She let the belt retract into place and wrapped her arms tight around Wyatt’s waist, prepared to act as a human restraint should the need arise.
Wyatt’s questions started the second Brett was seated. “Do you have horses at your house?”
“Yup. Lots.” Brett had one hand slung over the top of the wheel, not paying any attention to the road as he answered every question Wyatt shot at him.
“Do you have more dogs?”
“Yup. And cats.”
“Do you ride them?”
“The horses or the cats?”
Wyatt cackled. “You can’t ride cats.”
Brett draped one arm over the line of the open window, whistling while his truck ate up the last miles to Red Cedar Ranch. As they got closer, the basic wire fencing was replaced by split posts and rails. Cattle grazed in grassy fields, their coats shiny in the bright summer sun.
It was like a completely different world from the one she’d been in for the past ten years.
Hopefully that was a good thing.
A metal archway stretched across a break in the fencing. Brett slowed the truck and turned onto the thick gravel covering the lane leading to Red Cedar Ranch. Wyatt sat up a little taller on her lap. “Where’s your house?”
“It’s coming.” Brett angled the truck around a sharp bend flanked on one side by a thick line of trees.
“Holy cow.” Wyatt stared out the windshield as the tree line broke, revealing the first glimpse of their new home. “That’s your house?”
“Yup.”
Clara stared alongside Wyatt.
This wasn’t a house. This was an estate.
A compound.
And it only got bigger the closer they got.
Brett pulled the truck to a stop, parking in a line of other, similar trucks before getting out and coming around to help Wyatt jump down. He held one hand out. “Need a hand?”
Clara eyed his offered palm. She’d been on her own for a year, and depending on someone for anything ever again left a sour feeling in her gut. “I’m okay.” She grabbed the door with one hand and her dress with the other, holding onto both for dear life as she jumped out, the soles of her flat sandals not doing much to protect the bottoms of her feet from the bite of the rough gravel.
But she smiled through it. Just like she’d done a million times in the past year.
Fake it till you make it.
“Can I go see the horses?” Wyatt had definitely already forgotten all their talk about being respectful.
“I’m sure Mr. Pace has things to do.” Clara gave Brett an apologetic smile she hoped made it clear she’d tried to teach her child how to act right.
“Actually, I have nothing else to do.” Brett lifted his brows at Wyatt. “But you should probably ask your momma if it’s okay for you to go see them.”
Wyatt turned his big brown eyes on her. “Can I please?”
She’d been able to give her son so little of what he was used to since the twat decided he wanted to trade her in for a younger model, stripping away all she thought her life would be.
Clara scanned the ranch. This was supposed to be their new home. It’s what she told Wyatt. Promised him.
He deserved to feel at home somewhere again.
She gave him a nod. “Remember your manners.”
She watched as Brett and Wyatt made their way toward a large red barn.
This was going to be a good thing. What they needed.
What she needed.
Clara scanned the property, her stomach tightening.
Was she supposed to go find Maryann Pace?
Wait here for Brett and Wyatt to come back so they could go get her car from the middle of the road?
“Shit.”Clara allowed a rare slip of one of her favorite words and dropped her head back to stare at the sky.
Once again she was only half-prepared for the life she was stuck in.
“Can I help you?”
A deep male voice sent her spine straight and her head leveling out. Clara spun around to face the source of the voice.
Oh hell.
Brett was easy to brush off.
He was cute, but definitely young.
The man in front of her was not what any woman would call cute.
Not by a long shot.
Clara licked her oddly dry lips. “I’m looking for Maryann Pace.”
The man’s startling blue eyes held hers. “Can I ask why?”
She stood a little straighter under his unwavering gaze.
Fake it till you make it. “I have an appointment with her.”
One dark brow went up, disappearing under the low line of his cowboy hat. “Do you now?” He took a few long ambling steps her way. “Are you the interior designer?”
“What?” Clara glanced around the dusty fields and rocky drive. “No.”
The man’s head tipped a little. “Are you from the magazine?”
“No.” Clara fought the urge to smooth down her dress, to touch her hair.
She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, the mantra that got her through the past year playing through her head on repeat.
Fake it till you make it.
Fake it till you make it.
“I’m the nanny.”
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