ushered her into the living room. “The place is a little…neglected. I had a housekeeper. Up until last week.”
So. He’d fired her, too.
Which explained why the room looked as if the tornado had gone through his house the day before, instead of five months ago.
Bright plastic toys were scattered like confetti from one end of the room to the other. Laundry—men’s faded chambray work shirts mixed in with tiny, colorful sleepers—lay draped over the three infant swings lined up in front of the window.
And what was that smell?
Lori took a few more steps forward and something crunched beneath her foot. Glancing down, she saw the remains of a pretzel ground into the carpet.
“The housekeeper did most of the cooking, too.” Jesse discreetly swiped up a sock and crossed his arms to hide it from view.
Not that they’d had much time to talk about her specific duties yet, but it would have been nice if Jesse had mentioned she would be in charge, not only of the triplets, but of the entire household.
“I started asking around to find someone else, but…” His voice trailed off and Lori filled in the blanks.
Your former nannies spread the word about you.
The former nannies he’d apparently fired without a qualm.
But Madison, Brooke and Sasha needed her, so Lori was determined not to start off the day—let alone the first fifteen minutes—on the wrong foot.
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind cooking,” she said cheerfully. “I make the best eggplant Parmesan you’ve ever tasted.”
“Eggplant…” Jesse frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried that.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’d remember if you had. It’s delicious. In fact, it’s considered a staple in a vegetarian diet.” But probably missing from the menu of a certain cattle rancher.
“Vege—” Jesse choked on the rest of the word. “You’re a…vegetarian?”
Lori waited a beat, hoping he’d realize he was being teased. It would prove a sense of humor lurked somewhere below that serious demeanor. “No.”
Jesse frowned.
Apparently not. “I was kidding.”
“Kidding?” Jesse repeated the word suspiciously.
“Making a joke….” Never mind.
“Right.” Jesse continued to stare at her, and Lori wondered if, in spite of her best intentions, she was going to break her predecessor’s forty-eight-hour record. Abruptly, Jesse turned away. “I’ll show you to your room. The girls are still asleep, but I guess that’s not a surprise, considering how late they went to bed last night.”
Lori envied them. She’d stared at the ceiling for hours, asking God if she’d made the right decision.
It wasn’t as if she were a risk-taker by nature. And considering Jesse Logan’s track record with the triplets’ former nannies, one might argue that taking the job definitely put her in that category.
After she’d helped Jesse bundle the girls into their snowsuits the night before, Lori told him that she’d be there by six-thirty the next morning. She didn’t know much about ranching but assumed Jesse’s day started at sunup. The mixture of relief and gratitude in his eyes told her that she’d guessed correctly.
Fortunately, Lori had the day off from her job at the hospital, which would give her time to contact the personnel department at the hospital and talk to Janet, her supervisor.
Another factor that had proven God was at work in the situation. In fact, the longer Lori had thought and prayed about it, the more she realized that seemingly small and insignificant details now looked like signposts, directing her down a different path than the one she’d been on.
She wouldn’t have known Jesse was looking for a nanny if Nicki hadn’t called and asked for her help in the church nursery the night before. And just last week, Lori’s landlady mentioned her niece had moved back to High Plains and needed a place to stay. She asked if Lori wanted to renew her lease, which was due the second week in December. Lori had told her that she planned to stay—but the lease agreement remained on her desk, still unsigned. Lori couldn’t help but think that her landlady would be happy to offer the unit to a family member.
Even if Lori believed in coincidences—which she didn’t—it would have been impossible to ignore the verse she’d read during her devotional time—the one she’d memorized while packing her suitcase. The one she silently repeated as she wove through a maze of baby jumpers and followed Jesse to the second floor.
A spacious landing opened up at the top of the stairs, and Jesse turned down the hallway to the left.
“You can have the room that adjoins the nursery.” His husky voice dropped to a whisper as he nudged the door open.
Lori braced herself, ready to pretend to be enthusiastic.
Only, this time she didn’t have to pretend.
The color scheme was a serene combination of subdued ivory, sage-green and a vibrant shade of blue that reminded Lori of Jesse’s eyes….
The sky, she quickly corrected the errant thought. It reminded her of the sky.
She ventured farther into the room, aware that Jesse had put her suitcase down and moved aside to allow her to explore.
A queen-size antique four-poster bed, covered by a double wedding-ring quilt, dominated the room. Hand-hooked wool rugs had been strategically placed in front of the matching nightstands and the window. All places where bare feet might linger.
A sepia-toned photo of a man and woman held a prominent place on the wall above the headboard. Instead of staring somberly at the camera, typical for photographs taken during that era, the young couple was smiling at each other.
“My ancestors, Will and Emmeline Logan.” Jesse stood beside her and Lori’s heart did that crazy skip-hop thing again. “Will and Zeb Garrison founded High Plains in 1858, and Will married Emmeline a few years after that.”
Lori forced herself to concentrate on the photo instead of the appealing, masculine scent of the man standing beside her.
More than a hundred years separated the two men, and yet the family resemblance was uncanny. Will Logan had the same bone structure—angular jaw and deep-set eyes—but his smile held a hint of mischief. “Was it your great-grandfather who started the Circle L?”
Jesse nodded. “He built the house for Emmeline. The ranch has been run by one of their descendants ever since.”
Lori felt a stab of envy. What would it feel like to be part of such a strong family line? To share a legacy that had bonded its members together for more than a hundred years?
Her own family had splintered and fallen apart the summer after Lori had graduated from high school.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
