held her ground with her mom and told her she didn’t want a job. She wanted to be with Jason, to take care of him, to help him recover. Not trapped in a secluded cottage with a man she didn’t know.
They stopped in front of a one-story house too big to be called a cottage. Though it was stone and had adorable windows and a roof with several peaks, it was obviously roomy and modern.
Gwen led them through the great room to the bedroom she’d had redesigned and furnished as a nursery. Two oak cribs, two changing tables and two rockers filled it.
Chance laid chubby Sam on the first changing table. Gwen set Cindy on the second. “Tory, darling, while we’re changing the diapers, could you make the babies some cereal?”
“Sure.” Happy to escape, she raced outside to the SUV, assuming she’d find baby supplies there. But all she saw were two duffle bags. When she brought them into the kitchen and rummaged through them, she found nothing but clothes.
“See anything you like?”
Her heart just about leaped out of her chest at Chance’s question. His voice was low and deep, and the sexy way he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the center island of the kitchen caused her pulse to scramble.
Annoyance skittered through her. Why did she keep noticing things about this man? She was engaged. She shouldn’t be looking at his handsome face or noting the way he moved. Plus, at first blush, she didn’t even like him.
Presenting him with what she hoped was a professional smile, she said, “I was looking for cereal.”
He handed her the diaper bag. “It’s in here. Mom said she had the refrigerator stocked with supplies, including milk. Use that since mine’s been sitting in this diaper bag for hours.”
With that he turned and walked away, and Tory let out the breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. He might be good-looking but he was crabby. Even if she wasn’t engaged, she shouldn’t be interested—attracted, whatever the devil she was—to him.
She quickly prepared the cereal. By the time she carried it into the nursery, Chance and his mom were on the rocking chairs, each holding a baby. She put the two small bowls on the round table between the rockers and stepped back. Chance fed little bruiser Sam and Gwen fed Cindy.
With nothing else to do, she stood by the door and watched them. Though the babies were twins and looked a bit alike, they weren’t identical. Aside from their disparate size, they had different hair. Sam’s was short and fine, but Cindy’s was thick and longer. Yellow curls fell to her forehead and along her nape.
When they were done, Chance rose from his rocker. “I think we should put them down for a nap. They’ve eaten and now they’ll be tired.”
“So it’s not their regularly scheduled nap time?” Gwen asked.
He snorted a laugh. “Scheduled nap time? I don’t tell them when to sleep or eat. They tell me.”
Remembering the trouble she’d had her first summer with the Perkins family, wealthy lawyers with kids who ran roughshod over them, Tory couldn’t stifle the, “Oh, dear” that escaped her lips.
She instantly regretted it. Chance’s pretty blue eyes narrowed at her and his mouth thinned into an angry line.
He patted Sam’s back a bit, then laid the drowsy child in the crib. Following Chance’s lead, Gwen did the same with Cindy. The babies fell asleep instantly and Chance headed for the door, his mom on his heels.
Tory followed them out of the nursery, wanting to kick herself. The guy already didn’t like her and she didn’t exactly like him. Did she have to make things worse with her big mouth?
When they reentered the main room, Gwen turned to Chance. “Since the babies are sleeping, there’s no point in us hanging around. Plus, you and I could use a little catch up time.” She smiled at him. “Why don’t you drive us back to the house and we’ll go to the den where there’s good brandy? We can have Cook make us a snack.”
Chance pulled his keys from his jeans pocket again. He caught Tory’s gaze. “Watch the kids.”
She nodded, as relief washed over her. Hopefully, he and his mom would chitchat long enough that she could figure out a way to quit gracefully since their mothers were friends. He didn’t want her and she didn’t want to work for him. This wasn’t rocket science. But she also wouldn’t put her mom or Gwen in an uncomfortable position over a failed nanny assignment.
After they left, Tory relaxed and roamed the cottage. She’d been so preoccupied with Chance and the cereal, that she hadn’t really taken a good look at the house. The three bedrooms were in the back, but the living space had an open floor plan. Standing in the yellow kitchen with maple cabinets, beige ceramic tile floor and brown and beige granite countertops, she could see the entire family room and the mini-library/reading area behind it. A table and chairs sat off to the left of the kitchen in a little space that looked like a sunroom because of all the windows.
It was the perfect home for a young family—or newlyweds. She ran her hand along the granite countertop. She should be married right now. Living in a cute little house like this. Raising her own babies. But one day … one hour … No, one minute had changed everything. Instead of being married, being a mom, or having a career, she spent hours on end in a hospital room, talking to a fiancé who couldn’t talk back.
She wasn’t even really sure he could hear her.
Forcing herself out of her dark mood, she walked to the sitting area with the oversize leather sofa and recliners and big-screen TV, and turned in a circle. For a “cottage” this was unbelievable.
“So now you’re dancing?”
She spun to face Chance as he walked in the front door. “I was just exploring a bit.” Pressing her hand to her galloping heart, she tried to level her breathing. “I thought you were visiting with your mom.”
“I’m not leaving my babies indefinitely with a stranger.”
“I’m not a stranger. Our mothers are friends. Plus, I’ve been living with your mom, working with the household staff for a week.”
“And one would think you would have learned your place.”
She sucked in a breath. Oh, boy. The moment of truth. She might not have to figure out how to quit gracefully. He might fire her before she could.
He motioned for her to sit on the sofa. “You and I need to talk.”
Resigned, she walked over and sat on the couch as he’d requested.
He plopped down on one of the recliners. “You crossed a line when you questioned me about the kids’ nap time.”
She winced. “Technically, I didn’t question you. I said, ‘oh, dear.’”
“Which is worse. You might as well have come right out and said, ‘Hey, Chance. You’re doing everything wrong.’”
“Sorry.”
“These are my kids. I’ve spent two weeks with them all by myself. And though I’m not perfect, I don’t want to be constantly reminded that I don’t always know what
