Perfectly Good Nanny

by Paty Jager

  With his threat hanging in the air, Brock left the building.

  The nerve of these people thinking things were anything other than appropriate. There were children in the house for crying out loud. And probably the exact forum his ex-father-in-law would use to get custody of Maddie. He stomped out to the pickup. Tate was already asleep in the car seat while Maddie leaned against Carina with her eyes closed.

  Brock took a deep breath to calm his anger before opening the door and sliding in.

  “What took so long?” Carina asked quietly, looking at him over the sleeping children.

  “A couple of the men asked about the road between here and Haven.” Lying had never been something Brock stomached, but he damn sure wasn’t going to tell Carina how the people of Dutch Springs speculated on her wages. It still rankled they would jump to such conclusions without even meeting the woman. Never mind the last woman connected with him had come from a bar and hadn’t made any friends among the community.

  “I hope I don’t have to come back here again soon.” She leaned her head against the back of the seat.

  “Why?”

  She shuddered and closed her eyes. “I didn’t like the way they all stared at me like I escaped from the zoo.”

  “They don’t mean anything. They just don’t have a whole lot of excitement around here.” He started the pickup.

  “Some of their looks didn’t look inquisitive. They looked hostile.”

  “No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.”

  She turned her head toward him and opened her eyes. The late afternoon sun glittered in the tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t need to protect me.” Her words were whispered. The waver in her voice reminded him of the young men he fought beside in the Gulf. She was afraid. But he didn’t think the locals caused her tears.

  “How about you tell me about the big city to keep me alert on the drive back?” He offered, hoping to take her mind off whatever made her sad.

  “What do you want to know?”

  He backed the pickup away from the curb and headed toward Haven. “Everything. I’ve never been to a big city.”

  “Never? What about when you were in the service?”

  His head jerked around so fast, his neck popped. “How do you know I was in the service?”

  “Your background check.” She sighed. “And some letters I found in the bottom of the Grandfather clock.”

  “What letters?”

  “You didn’t know they were there?” She shifted, sitting straighter and turning toward him the best she could with Maddie using her for a pillow.

  “No.” He scratched his head. What letters could she be talking about? His mom wouldn’t have kept the letters he wrote. She wasn’t sentimental. Beth. But he thought he’d thrown them all out after…

  “Ones you wrote to Beth while you were overseas. By the date, I’d say you were in Desert Storm?”

  “Yeah.” He stared at the road ahead. “It’s not something I like to remember.”

  “I’m not bringing it up to bring back bad memories. Your letter told me a lot about Beth. But not enough to get a clear picture of her.”

  “I asked you about the big city, how are we on the subject of my wife?” He growled out the sentence and stared ahead. His fingers ached as his hands fisted around the steering wheel. He didn’t want to talk about her. It hurt too much.

  “Sorry.” She sighed. “I just wanted to know what kind of woman could keep a man’s heart locked up even after she’s gone.”

  His heart beat faster thinking of Beth. She was the fresh air after a storm, the sweetness of rain, and the gentleness of an evening breeze. He looked over at the woman watching him. She was the storm. His heart went from the patter of loss to the thud of desire. Where Beth had soothed his young brashness, this woman fired him up.

  Pulling his gaze back to the road, he pondered his newfound knowledge as Carina launched into a description of Chicago he could have read out of a book.

  His eyelids felt heavy when her voice penetrated the zone he’d gone into. “So, why doesn’t Beth’s parents help take care of Maddie?”

  The anger he’d stuffed into a dark hole in his heart consumed him. He didn’t even look to make sure Maddie slept before saying. “Because her father is an asshole.”

  His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he relived the day in the hospital when Beth was taken off life support. His gut twisted and rage made his head feel like it would explode.

  It took all Carina’s resolve not to shrink against the door when the anger in Brock filled the cab of the truck. She looked over her shoulder where Tate slept in the car seat, then down at, Maddie. She didn’t want them waking up while their father was in this state.

  Cautiously, she opened her mouth and asked, “Why—” Brock looked at her, his mouth set in a hard line, his eyes dulled with pain. She cleared her throat. “Why do you say that?”

  “Maxwell Johnson always wanted someone more for his daughter. Someone not of this land. Someone who could cover her in diamonds.” His hands squeezed the wheel and he turned jerkily around a bend in the road. “I was not his top pick for a husband. We kept our love secret from Beth’s father for many years. When he found out—Beth had to leave home. Johnson was a violent man when things didn’t go his way. How her sweet mother put up with it all those years I’ll never know.”

  Brock’s eyes turned steely, and his mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “The day we took Beth off life support”—he swallowed, tears glistening in his eyes—“Johnson had the affront to say she was better off dead than as my wife.” Brock stared over the head of his beautiful daughter. “She was better off dead than being my wife.”

  The anguish on his face made her heart ache for him. She reached out touching his arm.

  “He was in pain too. Most likely he didn’t mean what he said.”

  Brock shook off her hand. “No. He meant it. I neglected her. I didn’t ride with her that day and her horse fell. By the time I realized she hadn’t come back and found her…” He jerked the pickup to a stop and leaned over the steering wheel, his body heaving as he sobbed.

  Carina shuffled Maddie, careful not to wake her, until she could sit next to him. Not knowing how he would react, she cautiously placed her hand on his back. When he didn’t try to shake her off, she made large, slow circles, giving him the human contact she sensed he needed.

  All these years, he’d blamed himself for his wife’s death.

  It was an unfortunate accident. His father-in-law’s words had to have hindered the healing process.

  Maddie squirmed in the seat and raised her head. “What’s wrong with Daddy?” she asked, looking from her father to Carina.

  “He’s tired.” Carina continued to rub his back. “Go back to sleep and when he’s had a rest we’ll head home.” Carina smiled at the child to reassure her. Maddie didn’t need to learn about the callousness of her grandparent nor the hatred her father held for the man.

  Maddie leaned back against the locked door, but didn’t quite close her eyes. Carina chuckled to herself. The girl was protective of her father.

  When Brock turned to look at Carina, apprehension lingered in his eyes. She smiled and continued rubbing his back. She wasn’t ready to relinquish the contact between them.

  “Did you have a good rest?” she asked, motioning with her head toward Maddie who hadn’t fallen back to sleep, though she tried hard to make it appear so.

  Brock looked around her to see his daughter and cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat again and squeezed her arm. “I had a good rest.”

  He leaned toward her and whispered. “Thank you.” His warm breath fluttered her hair and sent shivers of elation dancing through her body.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She stared forward when he started the truck. Feeling his solid body next to hers as they hurried toward home took all her resolve not to snuggle closer. When he dropped his hand onto her leg, she looked over. Brock smiled an
d gave her knee a squeeze like they’d rode next to each other before and his hand upon her wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

  Her heart pounding in her chest said otherwise.

  Nine

  Carina carried Tate up to his bed while Brock deposited Maddie in hers. They met at the top of the stairs.

  “You want some hot chocolate or something to eat?” she asked, heading down the stairs in front of him. Carina wanted to stay aloof from the man. She couldn’t have a relationship with anyone until she let go of the guilt, but she wasn’t ready for the night to end.

  “Do you have any cookies to go with the hot chocolate?” he asked.

  She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Yes. Chocolate chip.” The grin he bestowed upon her sent her nerves tingling. Carina hurried down the hall and into the kitchen to start the water boiling. It had taken her a while to get used to not using a microwave for everything. This house contained only necessary appliances.

  Brock sat down at the table and watched her move about the room. His eyes followed her every move and reminded her of the men at the restaurant.

  “Please don’t watch me,” she said, facing him and staring square in his face.

  He looked taken aback. “Why?”

  “It reminds me of the men back at the restaurant. I’ve been in all types of neighborhoods in Chicago, but I’ve never run into a room full of people that made me that nervous.”

  “Sorry. It’s been a while since I wanted to watch a woman in my kitchen.”

  His words warmed and saddened her. She wanted him to accept her, but when the month was up, she had to head back to Chicago whether she was emotionally healed or not. To stay any longer would make leaving all the more difficult.

  “I didn’t mean to make you sad.” He reached out to her.

  She wanted to put her hand in his, but she couldn’t. Not if she planned to walk away.

  “It’s not you.” Placing the two cups of hot chocolate on the table, she sat down across from him. Staring into his eyes, she saw he didn’t believe her. But that was just as well. Let him think she wasn’t attracted to him. It was best.

  She cleared her throat determined to find a way to get him help when she left. “I don’t want to stir up old wounds, but where are Beth’s parents now? Couldn’t her mother help out with the kids?”

  Anger returned to his eyes like bolts of lightning. “Her mother passed away a year ago. Her father kept the ranch, but has someone else running it while he works for the bank in Halverton.” He grit his teeth as his gaze swept the room. “He’s the one hoping I fail to pay off the mortgage this year. Ever since Evelyn passed he’s been trying his damnedest to wreck me and get custody of Maddie.”

  “What about you and Tate? Not to mention what it would to do Maddie to take her from you.” Carina couldn’t believe a man could be so low. Why torture his own family this way?

  “He hasn’t spoken with or cared a lick about Maddie until his wife died. Since losing both his women all he rants about is getting Maddie and giving her a better life than I can.” Brock looked at her, his eyes full of sorrow. “If it hadn’t been for Maddie when Beth died, I could have easily become resentful like Maxwell.”

  “I don’t believe that.” Carina reached across the table, grabbing his hand. “You are a good man who loves deeply and cares about the right things. It sounds to me like Mr. Johnson was already a bitter man before Beth’s death.”

  Gazing into his eyes and holding his hand, Carina felt her body rousing from compassion to passion. Her nipples tingled and her body warmed. She had to get away.

  Now .

  “It’s late.” She dropped his hand and stood, screeching the chair backward in her haste.

  Brock stared at her, his eyes full of questions.

  “You didn’t do anything. I just…need to get some sleep.” She walked to the doorway and turned. “Good night.”

  Hurrying up the stairs, her heart thudded in her chest, not from the exertion, but the thoughts dancing in her head. If he had made the move, she would have been in his arms and possibly sprawled across the table before either of them thought of the consequences.

  ****

  The chair back creaked when Brock flopped back. What did he do to make her take off like a scared jackrabbit? He played the conversation over in his mind. She grasped his hand. He smiled. Her hand was long and thin. Many times over the last few days, he’d wondered what those fingers would feel like running through his hair and trailing across his skin.

  The kitchen grew warm. He placed the mugs in the sink and turned off the light. With Jack back and Carina here to watch the kids, he could get a lot more accomplished in a day.

  He started up the stairs, but his mind ran through the list of chores for the next day, and he didn’t feel a bit sleepy. Detouring, he went into his office, plopped into his desk chair, and pulled out a notepad. He scribbled all the things that needed done. Then he listed them in the most effective order.

  Finishing the list, he took it down the hall and set it on the kitchen counter. Moving through the dark house was second nature to him. He’d grown up here and furniture never got moved except for a yearly cleaning underneath. He climbed the stairs knowing which one would creak.

  Smiling, he slid his hand along the handrail. Maddie had the same love of the land and the house as he and Beth. She may go away to college, but she’d be back. The high desert was too much a part of her. That was if he could keep her out of Maxwell’s hands.

  “No. Please…no!” Carina’s whimpering stood his hair on end.

  Brock sprinted up the stairs and around the banister to her door.

  “No! Please don’t take her!” Her voice went from hysteria to whimpering.

  He didn’t even bother knocking. The sounds coming from the room tore at his heart. Turning the knob, he burst into the room. Carina lay curled in a fetal position against the headboard. Her frightened whimper pierced his heart and sent him across the room to gather her in his arms.

  She shoved him, crying out, “No! You can’t have her!” She clawed at him, her nails raking his neck.

  “Carina. It’s me Brock.” He reached out, clicking on the lamp beside the bed before wrapping his arms around her. When she tried to get away, he hugged her gently, but firmly. “Shhh. I won’t hurt you. You’re dreaming.” Grasping her shoulders, he shook her gently. “Carina, wake up.”

  Her eyelids slowly rose. Sorrow lit her eyes until she became fully awake. She lunged at him, hugging him around the neck with heaving sobs.

  Brock held her, stroking her back. The feel of the satin material under his hands sent heat to his groin. Feeling her curves, after so many days of wondering about them, had his body rigid and wanting.

  “You’re fine. No one’s hurting you. I wouldn’t let them. Shhh. There now.” When she stopped shaking, he gently held her away from him. His breath caught at the sight of her alabaster skin against the dark, shiny material of a skimpy nightie.

  “What was that all about?” he asked, pushing her thick, dark hair out of her face. The softness and weight of her tresses made his fingers itch to do more than gently tuck it behind her ear.

  “I have bad dreams.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  “Was it something you ate?” He smiled, trying to make light of the dream.

  She shook her head, but didn’t respond to the humor.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  The flicker of distress in her eyes and the softly whispered, “No one can help me,” was the highest form of torture he’d ever endured. Was the reality of her dreams why she’d taken a job so far from her family and friends? What in her life could have been so horrendous to plague her dreams? Not her divorce.

  He pulled Carina into his arms. She didn’t fight him. Her body flowed against his like molasses over oats. Even knowing she was tormented by her past, he couldn’t stop the desire that flared in him.

  He slipped a finger under her chin, lifting her face up t
o gaze in her eyes. Sorrow no longer glistened in their blue depth. Desire burned.

  Without thinking of consequences other than wanting to taste her lips, he lowered his head. Her breath was warm and sweet. She kissed him with abandon and the rush of heat and emotion storming his body made him lightheaded.

  Carina was fully awake now. The dream had drained her, grief stole her strength. Yet, as Brock plied her with warm, passion-filled kisses, her body became energized and sizzled for more. She ran her hands up his firm chest, moving to circle his neck.

  Something warm and sticky touched her fingers. She pulled back, looking down at her hand. “What’s this?” she asked.

  He held her hand and looked at it. “It looks like blood.”

  “On your neck?”

  He raised a hand, touching the bleeding scratches. “Yeah.”

  When he didn’t offer to say more, she prodded. “How did you scratch your neck?”

  He watched her a minute, then took her hands. “You did it.”

  “Me?” Why—how would she scratch him? They’d only been kissing and her hands hadn’t been near his neck until just now.

  “During your dream. I tried to wake you. You fought like a wildcat at first, scratching and flailing.”

  Mortified, she raised up on her knees, capturing his head in her hands. “Brock, I’m so sorry.” She’d never been a violent person. Not until losing her child. In her dreams she fought with every inch of her being to keep the child. Now she knew why she woke emotionally and physically drained. “Let me take care of it.” She started to scoot off the bed, but he grabbed her around the middle, dragging her back.

  “It’s only a scratch and you didn’t know what you were doing. I forgive you.” He nuzzled her neck, sending waves of heat out to her toes. Her body shouted ‘give in’. Her conscience knew better.

  “I think you should go now.” She kissed him to reduce the abruptness of her change of heart. “The kids. It isn’t…”

  Brock slid a hand under her night slip, lightly resting it high on her thigh.