The Rancher's Nanny Bargain. Sara Orwig

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know my brother well. Luke’s the oldest, so he’s accustomed to telling the others what to do. I’m the next, and even though I’m twenty-two and there are several years between our ages, we’re close. It’s a little amazing you’re such good friends because you’re both alpha males—very much alike probably.”

      “We don’t see each other as much now and we never did run each other’s lives.” He hesitated, then added, “Well, we both make suggestions, like him telling me to hire you.”

      “I imagine a better description would be hounding you to hire me until you were desperate enough to listen to him.”

      He smiled and her heart did another skip because it softened his features and it heightened his appeal.

      “No,” he replied. “I had mixed feelings about it until I saw you with Amelia. She took to you instantly and you were relaxed with her. Actually, anyone watching you who didn’t know, would think you had been taking care of Amelia for a long time.”

      “I’ve spent a lot of time with babies.”

      “Well, Grandmother and I are grateful you’ve adjusted so quickly. She’s worn-out. I don’t know whether she told you or not, she’s going home tomorrow.”

      Erin drew a sharp breath. “I thought she planned to stay awhile after I arrived,” she said, instantly thinking of the moments she would be alone with Cade.

      “Not anymore. She said you don’t seem to need anyone, that you took charge from the first moment and she’s just watched.” His eyes narrowed. “Is there some reason you feel she needs to stay longer?”

      His blue eyes were intent and she didn’t want him to realize how on edge she felt with him. He might guess why she didn’t want his grandmother to go.

      “No, of course not.” She hoped she sounded positive and casual. “I’ll be fine. I just didn’t want her to feel unwanted.”

      He stared at her a moment in silence and then shook his head. “Believe me, she doesn’t feel unwanted. She couldn’t wait to turn Amelia’s care over to you.”

      Erin smiled at him. “I’m happy to have full charge of Amelia. She’s easy.”

      “You’ll be great with Amelia.” He looked away with a muscle working in his jaw and she guessed that he was thinking about his deceased brother.

      He sipped his beer and turned to look at her again. “When I’m out on the ranch, you can always get me on my phone and don’t hesitate if you need me. I’ll introduce you to my foreman and you can call him, too. Maisie is here during the day and you can get her if you need help. There will always be someone close.”

      “That’s good to know.”

      “I promised you a complete tour of the house—want to look now?”

      “Yes. This is a good time,” she said, standing. She had the feeling that he was carefully trying to be friendly and yet keep a distance, which was a relief.

      He showed her the formal, grand living area with elegant furniture and a massive stone fireplace with a large watercolor landscape above the marble mantel. She was relieved to see the fireplace had padding to protect Amelia if she fell against the stone hearth.

      The open area had thick, handcrafted area rugs and columns that separated it from the dining room which was dominated by a polished cherrywood table that would seat twenty-four.

      “Do you actually have this many people here for dinner?” she said, looking at the elegant table and then turning to catch him gazing at her with an intense look as personal as the touch of his hand, and made her forget his dining room.

      “Occasionally,” he answered. His voice held a husky note and she walked into the hall.

      “Where do we go from here?”

      He followed in silence, a brooding look on his face. Was he regretting hiring her? She didn’t think the look he gave her was one of regret. Far from it.

      They toured his house while conversation remained polite, impersonal, and she kept a discreet distance between them. In the entertainment room, she turned to him. “Amelia is a sound sleeper. I think I’ll look in on her and turn in myself.”

      “Sure,” he said, walking beside her. “I told you earlier that my suite is on the other side of hers. Come look. I’ll show you,” he said and in a few minutes ushered her through a wide-open door into a big sitting room with floor-to-ceiling windows along one side of the room that led to a patio and yard. The sitting room had a large Navajo rug, a polished hardwood floor, a beamed twelve-foot ceiling and a giant television screen on one wall. Bookcases lined another wall and a stone fireplace was on the fourth wall. He’d decorated with oil paintings of landscapes and Western scenes.

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