Her Texas Rodeo Cowboy

by Trish Milburn

  “It doesn’t look like much,” Sam said.

  “Wait until you see the inside.”

  Lauren had shown her around the fully furnished apartment when she’d flown out for the interview. Three bedrooms. A kitchen. Even a family room that overlooked a back patio with a pool right outside. Not her own pool, of course, but the owner’s. She’d been told her kids could use it, though, as long as she checked with Mr. Stone first.

  “Why don’t you let Janus out?” she asked T.J. “He can check out our new place, too.”

  Her son dashed to the back of the truck, dodging suitcases and boxes to get to the beige-colored kennel. Poor dog had been cooped up for at least three hours.

  “Use the leash,” she warned. The last thing she needed was her husband’s ex-military dog running off and getting lost. That would be a disaster.

  “Can’t we, you know, find a place of our own to live?” Her daughter’s face was a mask of distaste as she stared around her. “I don’t want to share a house with someone I don’t know.”

  Naomi resisted the urge to make her own face. “We’re not sharing a house, kiddo. We have one right here.” And it’s free. And furnished. And requires no commute.

  Sam flicked her long brown hair over a shoulder. “Yeah. The servants’ quarters.”

  Was it illegal to spank kids in California? She doubted anyone would blame her if she did. “Sam, please. Give this a try.”

  “Whatever.” She flounced off, heading for the front door.

  T.J. came up beside her, Janus by his side, the dog’s dark eyes catching on something near the front of the house, although what she couldn’t tell. He was forever looking for trouble, compliments of his military training.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. She’ll get over it.”

  The fact that her ten-year-old son tried to console her shouldn’t surprise her. He’d been doing that for the past two years, ever since Trevor had died.

  “I hope so, bud,” she murmured.

  She’d been told the front door would be open, and it was. The apartment, which took up a whole corner of the owner’s mansion, was just as spacious as she remembered.

  “Wow,” T.J. said again.

  Definitely bigger than their place in Georgia, not that Sam would admit it. She just slumped down on the couch to their right, eyes glued to her phone.

  “I’m going to go meet my new boss.” Naomi tried to inject perky self-confidence into her voice. “Sam, can you and T.J. try to unload some of our stuff?”

  Sam didn’t answer, just kept clicking buttons.

  “Sam.”

  Her daughter eyed her from above the top of her phone. “Fine.”

  She winced inwardly. The whole journey out to California, she’d tried to convince her daughter that the move was for the best. They’d be near the kids’ grandparents once they made the move out west, too. They’d be living on a ranch. They could even have their own horses down the road once she sold the house. Sam had always loved horses. But Sam hated to leave her friends. She didn’t like California, although she’d never been there before. She hated that her mom would be a housekeeper. Why couldn’t she do something different? Why couldn’t they stay in Georgia? And on and on it’d gone.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. At least T.J. was happy. Her son was going from room to room, sounds of “wow” and “cool” being emitted periodically.

  As if she didn’t have enough to worry about, a sullen teenager only added to the mix. Jaxton Stone’s sister had said he was a nice man: the perfect brother, she’d said. He worked super hard, which was why he needed a live-in housekeeper. Apparently, her new boss was always off somewhere in the world. He ran a military contracting company. She’d had to Google what that was, a sort of army-for-hire type of thing. They provided protection for corporate executives, too, something she’d never heard of before, but was apparently necessary if the company was big enough that it could afford to pay a ransom. She’d been shocked to read just how dangerous foreign travel could be for the head of a big company, and her new boss made a living keeping those corporate head honchos safe. A very good living, by the looks of it.

  Off you go.

  She stepped outside and skirted the house to the main entrance. At least her surroundings were pretty spectacular. The home sat on property that looked like something out of an old Western movie, or maybe Bonanza. Rolling hills were covered by dried grass, trees casting inkblot shadows on the ground, taller mountains in the distance. She’d had to cross through those mountains to get to Via Del Caballo, so she knew the ocean lay on the other side. It might have rained this morning, but it was clear now, a few patchy clouds off in the distance. She took a deep breath of the freshly scented air and then squared her shoulders. Lauren had constantly mentioned how great her brother was. She hoped her boss’s sister hadn’t fudged the truth.

  The front door sat atop a row of steps like the opening to a Mayan temple. She was just about to make the sacrificial ascent when a sound caught her attention. A dog sat on the massive porch that framed the front of the house. It stared at her curiously from its position by a redwood chair with maroon cushions.

  “Hey there, boy,” she said, climbing the stairs quickly. Some kind over overlarge terrier, she thought, smiling at the way tendrils of hair came together at the crown of its head and made it look like it had a Mohawk.

  “Bad hair day?” she asked.

  The dog just thumped its tail. Skinny little thing. She wondered if it were ill or something.

  She smiled down at it and eyed the place. Should she just walk in? Ring a bell?

  She pressed the doorbell, stepped back, the dog watching her as she stood there, then moved forward and rang the bell again.

  Was he home?

  She’d been assured someone would be there to greet her this morning. And the apartment had been unlocked. Maybe he’d stepped out?

  She wondered what to do. Wide beams stood above her, the wooden rails reminiscent of pictures she’d seen of Camp David. It smelled new. Like varnish and wood and fresh paint.

  He must not have heard me. She peeked through one of the massive windows that lined the front. She didn’t see anybody, so she went back to the door, turning the handle just to see if it was open, not to go inside or anything.

  The alarm nearly deafened her. She had to cover her ears it was so loud. The dog that’d been on the porch ran away so fast she wished she could do the same.

  Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.

  What had she done? She hadn’t even opened the dang thing.

  Dear Lord.

  She stepped back from the door, staring at it, as if she could somehow will the alarm to shut off.

  It swung open.

  Blue eyes stared down at her. That’s all she caught a glimpse of before he went back inside. Through the open door she watched as he turned toward an electronic console on the wall, pressed some buttons and silenced the alarm.

  Her ears rang. Her face blazed. Her smile nearly slipped from her face.

  “Good morning.” She tried to brazen it out.

  He slowly placed his hands on his hips, and as Naomi looked into his gorgeous eyes, she knew nothing would ever be the same again.

  * * *

  “DO YOU ALWAYS just walk into people’s homes?”

  The redhead’s smile grew even more strained, and he recognized the grin for what it was—a show of bravado that fooled no one.

  “I didn’t walk in, I promise.” She lifted her hands. “I just tried the door.”

  “Soooo you could walk in?”

  “No, no.” She shook her head, a mass of red hair falling over her shoulders. “I was just seeing if someone was here. I wasn’t going to walk in.”

  “Mom!” Behind her, a dark-haired girl came to
a stop on his gravel driveway. “Are you okay?”

  She turned to greet the teen. “I’m okay.” She waved her away. “Just a little misunderstanding.”

  A little boy, younger than the girl and with hair as red as his mom’s, skidded to a stop next. “Man, that was loud.”

  “I take it those are the kids?” he asked.

  She glanced back at him. “Yup.”

  Which confirmed that she was Naomi Jones, although her Southern accent gave it away. The friend of a friend that his sister had interviewed and loved, and whom he’d been forced to hire because Lauren felt sorry for the single mom of two. That wasn’t surprising given that his sister had been raising a child all on her own, but that would soon change since she’d met Brennan Connelly.

  “Can I see the inside of your house?” the boy asked, lifting up on his toes as if he might be able to peer over his mom’s shoulder.

  The girl smacked him on the head.

  “Ow!” the boy cried.

  “Come on.” The teen gave them what could only be called a glare of derision. “Let’s let Mom do her housekeeping thing.”

  His gaze caught on the woman in front of him, just in time to see her wince. “I’m so sorry.”

  He’d have to have been a real jerk not to accept her apology. His men might call him a hard-ass, but it really wasn’t true. Well, most of the time.

  “It’s okay.” He stepped back from the door. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.”

  She glanced around, her gaze coming to rest on a granite water sculpture at the center of the main foyer. The sound of running water soothed troubled souls, his included.

  “I love your house.” She stopped in the middle of the foyer, her eyes—the prettiest shade of blue he’d seen in a long, long time—traveling around the interior. “It reminds me of a guest lodge or something.”

  “Thanks.”

  Those eyes landed back on him. “I’m Naomi Jones, by the way.”

  He could tell she wasn’t sure if she should hold out a hand or simply stand there and keep smiling.

  He took the guesswork away from her and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Nice to meet you.”

  He saw something flit across her eyes, something that told him he might have just offended her, or maybe disappointed her. “You, too.” She stuffed her own hands in her pockets.

  Interesting. Usually mimicking someone’s gestures was a sign of submission, but he doubted that was the case here. He’d seen her tip her chin up a tad. Those bright blue eyes of hers had grown a little less friendly, too.

  “So, those were your kids?”

  “Yes. T.J. and Samantha.”

  “And you’ve settled into the apartment?”

  “Well, no. We only just got here. I was told to come straight to you when we arrived. So you could meet me.”

  Check her out, his sister had said, although he hated the way saying the words made him feel. His sister had said she was perfect for the job, but that didn’t mean he would think so, too. He’d agreed to hire her as a favor. He’d been telling himself for the past two weeks that he should trust his sister’s judgment, but as Naomi stood in front of him he wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

  “Why don’t we go talk in my office?” He motioned that she should follow him past the sunken living room that overlooked the front of the property and up some stairs to his left. He’d had very few people to his private retreat. He could probably count the number on one hand, but he wasn’t surprised by her reaction to the vaulted ceilings and the wrought-iron balustrade as she followed him up the wooden steps. It’d taken a year to build the place, and another three months to build the massive covered arena and apartments out back. He’d spent those last several months flying back and forth between his corporate offices in San Francisco, interviewing hippotherapists and psychotherapists, and securing the purchase of the livestock for his ranch. It’d been a hell of an endeavor, but he’d gotten it done.

  “My sister tells me you’ve done this before?”

  “Well, not quite,” she said, taking a seat opposite his desk. He watched as she immediately shifted first left and then right, solidifying his own thoughts about his new furniture. Not comfortable. He’d hired a decorator, and he’d begun to suspect that she valued form over function. He liked things the opposite way, something he’d clearly neglected to convey. In his line of work, things needed to be efficient. Someone’s life might depend on it.

  “I used to work as an event planner, and before that, I worked for a hotel doing the same thing. But I started out in housekeeping. Worked my way up while I attended college, that sort of thing.”

  He’d known that. He’d read her résumé a time or two. “Why do you want to move all the way out to California?”

  She stared into her lap for a moment, resting her hands on her jean-clad legs, sunlight from the tall windows in front of her emphasizing the red of her hair. “The kids’ grandparents are moving out here.” She looked up and met his gaze. “My kids love them. I didn’t want Sam and T.J. to be that far away.”

  “So you chucked it all?”

  He didn’t mean to sound critical, but he could tell by the way she furrowed her brow that she took it that way. “We don’t have anybody else. No other family, no aunts or uncles, and life in Georgia is...challenging.”

  “More challenging than moving all the way to California?”

  There went that chin again. “We needed a change.”

  A big change. At least from the sound of things.

  He leaned back. He sat opposite her since he didn’t need to see the view. “This job won’t just be about housekeeping. I know that’s what my sister told you, but it’s going to be way more than that.”

  She tipped her head, leaned forward a bit. Her body language told him she didn’t mind this change of plans.

  “You’ll still be keeping house to some degree,” he explained, “and managing my household—buying groceries and whatnot—but whoever works here needs to be flexible, too. They need to understand that one day they might be asked to cook for me when I’m in town, or clean a guest apartment, or help one of our guests in some way. It won’t be easy, but it’ll be interesting. You do know how to cook, don’t you?”

  “You wouldn’t ask me that if you’d tasted my Southern pecan pie.” She beamed, and he had to admit she didn’t look a thing like he’d expected. He’d expected older. More...harried-looking. She had two kids and he knew that couldn’t be easy.

  Drop-dead gorgeous, that’s what she was.

  Even in an off-white long-sleeved T-shirt as plain as day. He didn’t normally notice such things, not when all he cared about was if someone could do a job properly, but the visual image in his head was so far from the reality that it startled him.

  “What about you?” he said. “Do you have any questions?”

  “Yes.” She pinned him down with a stare like an entomologist would a cricket. “You won’t be bothered by two kids and a dog, will you?” She looked around her as if envisioning two terrors inside his home.

  “I would expect them to stay out of the way.”

  And suddenly she appeared amused, her blue eyes lighting up from within, her whole face transforming, and if he’d thought her beautiful before, that was nothing like the way she looked with a smile on her face.

  “I can’t keep my kids in a kennel.”

  “No, of course not, but kids are always off doing things, at least in my experience. As far as your dog, I would appreciate you keeping him on a leash, at least until we know how he’ll react around horses.”

  “You don’t think your dog will mind having a new dog on the property.”

  “What dog?”

  Her brows drew together. “The one on your porch. Or it was. It ran off when the alarm s
ounded.”

  “What?”

  “By the front door. But like I said, it ran off.”

  “I don’t have a dog.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head. “If you see it, please let me know. I’ll have to call someone to catch it.”

  “No. Don’t do that. It’s better to try to re-home a stray.”

  “We don’t know it’s a stray.”

  She frowned. “I think it is. It looked skinny.”

  And she cared. With concern clouding her eyes, she looked younger. She couldn’t be much older than thirty.

  Younger than you.

  Much younger.

  “Let me know if you catch it and we’ll go from there.”

  She nodded. “Anything else?”

  “One last question.”

  She waited quietly. He admired the way the sunlight set strands of her hair afire before he admitted he shouldn’t be noticing that type of thing.

  “What if you change your mind?”

  “About what?”

  “The move. Working as a housekeeper. Living on the ranch.”

  She lifted her chin a tiny fraction, but enough for him to realize she was sensitive about the issue. “I won’t. We even drove my old Ford truck all the way out here. And I’ve started the school enrollment process for my kids. They’ll be all set to start at their new school in the fall.”

  He studied the woman in front of him. Lauren had told him Naomi worried that her husband’s death had affected her kids far more deeply than she’d surmised. That they were having problems in school and that a move all the way across country would be good for them. He couldn’t say he agreed. Then again, he didn’t have kids, so who was he to judge?

  “All right then. I guess we’ll see what happens.”

  “Terrific.”