years she’d been on a quest to achieve her top personal goals of peace and safety. Those warm feelings enveloped her almost from her first step onto the property, as if the ranch itself was gladly accepting her, buffering her from anything untoward. Small fantasies like that buoyed her spirit from one endeavor to the next as she searched for the place where she could sink deep roots.
Would it be here in Roaring Springs breeding quarter horses at the renowned Crooked C? She was about to knock on her idol’s door and find out.
Her nerves jumping, Kelsey pressed her hand to her belly. She paused under the shade of a big tree and pulled out her hair tie. She brushed out her long strawberry-blond hair until the strands were tangle-free again, then she wound it back into a bun to keep it out of her face. She might be late, but she would nail this interview.
Since graduating from college and defending her master’s thesis in equine genetics, she’d been bumping along from one internship or short-term study to the next. Not a bad system and it had given her time to figure out which facets of her degrees she wanted to put to use. She enjoyed lab work, but missed the hands-on, day-to-day interaction with the horses. It had been years since she’d been present for foaling. With a little luck and some quick talking, she’d be assisting Mr. Colton with that very thing come springtime.
As ready as ever, she marched toward the big barn and up onto the porch, under the sign with the Crooked C Quarter Horses logo. Drawing in a deep breath, she rang the doorbell. Waited several long moments. There was no answer. He could be out, working directly with his mares or just tending to the needs of a forty-acre ranch. Horses didn’t keep the same cushy hours as those of the labs she’d been working in.
She knocked, determined to reschedule if he didn’t have time to speak with her this evening. In all of the pictures and interviews she’d read, Fox struck her as a decent, kind man. She’d studied recordings of talks he’d given at various program events. The man came across as focused and purposeful, smart as a whip and humble about it. Genuine. If he couldn’t speak with her tonight, surely he could recommend a towing service and repair shop. And maybe, in the way of many communities, the repair shop would point her toward an affordable motel.
Roaring Springs was known for excellent skiing, a summer film festival, the resort atmosphere and the spa that catered to A-list celebrities. Kelsey didn’t have that kind of money to toss around. Not even for one night.
She rang the doorbell one last time, her mind spinning with new plans and possibilities. If Mr. Colton didn’t answer, she’d write a note and tuck it into the door and head down to the nearest barn. Was it better to go in search of someone who could help her or sit here like a lost puppy awaiting his return?
Suddenly, her spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a baby crying. Oh, no. Had all her ringing and knocking woken up the child? One of the first life rules she’d learned was never to wake a sleeping baby.
Way to make a good first impression.
The sounds of wailing increased, as if someone was slowly turning up the volume on a baby monitor. Then the door swung opened and a frazzled cowboy with glazed blue eyes and a miserable baby in his arms stared blankly at her.
Mr. Foxworth Colton. He was taller than she’d anticipated, making her feel shorter than ever. His brown hair, highlighted by hours out in the sun, fell into his eyes and his chambray shirt, half-untucked, was wrinkled and damp in places from the baby’s tears or worse. Either he’d grown a beard since the last photo she’d seen or he hadn’t shaved in several days. Nothing in his bio had mentioned a wife or children. He had several siblings, though he didn’t look anything like a content uncle at the moment.
When her gaze collided with his, she thought the man might burst into tears, too. The baby, a little boy she assumed based on the red airplanes on his sleeper, stared at her with big blue eyes in a wet red face. He hiccupped, then dropped his head to the cowboy’s shoulder and resumed his protest. Sympathy welled up within her for both of them.
“Mr. Colton?” She pitched her voice just loud enough to be heard over the squalling.
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean to interrupt. I’m Kelsey Lauder. We had an interview—”
He closed his eyes. His lips moved, in prayer or curse, she couldn’t know. Shifting the baby to his left arm, he offered her his right hand, but the baby’s displeasure continued. “I forgot all about it.” He winced as the baby arched and screeched louder still.
“I’d invite you in, but the smart move is to come back another day. Can you email me with a few options?”
Technically, yes. “Um...is your wife out?” she asked instead. The idea of hiking back to her car in the dark held zero appeal.
“Not married. This is...” His voice trailed off as he gently rocked the baby in his arm in a fruitless attempt to settle him. “Well, there isn’t an easy explanation.”
She’d come prepared to prove herself an asset to his horse breeding program. How to offer help with the baby without overstepping or offending? “I’ve had some experience with kids.” His dark eyebrows lifted. Skepticism or hope? “Lots of younger siblings,” she explained.
“There were a couple of stints as a nanny on your résumé,” he recalled.
“You’re right.” Babysitting and child care were the jobs she’d been most qualified for during her high school and college years. She moved back and invited him onto the porch. “It’s cooler out here,” she said.
“Aren’t babies supposed to be kept warm?” he asked, stepping out.
The squirming baby had lost a sock and if the blanket was meant to do anything, it was too twisted and bunched between them to be effective. “I think a few minutes in the cooler air might be more help to both of you,” she told him. “May I, Mr. Colton?” she asked, reaching for the baby.
“Call me Fox,” he said, handing her the little boy.
Kelsey crooned to the child as she cradled him in the crook of her elbow. She blotted the tears from his chubby cheeks and let him suck on her knuckle when he turned his head. “Aww. Are you hungry, little man?”
The baby’s cries eased, subsiding to a snuffle and smaller whimpers.
Fox’s eyes were wide. “How’d you do that?”
“Practice.” She laughed as he chomped on her finger. “He might be teething, too. What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have one.” Fox pushed a hand through his hair, the other holding tightly to the baby’s blanket. He really did need someone to shape up that thick mass of hair. Was he growing the beard for winter, or too distracted to shave? “Well, he probably does, but whoever left him with me didn’t share it.”
She had no idea what he was talking about and she’d learned it was easier to keep a babysitting job when she didn’t ask probing personal questions. “Do you have formula or any supplies?” She could tell by touch that a diaper change was in order once the baby cooled off a little.
“Yes, there was formula in the bag.” He turned toward the open door. “It’s upstairs.”
“Do you think we might talk about the consulting position while he eats?”
