The Lawyer's Nanny_A Single Daddy Romance

by Emerson Rose

  Created with Vellum

  I can’t remember if I have dedicated a book to all of my daughters as of yet, and since I’m too lazy to get up and check my bookshelf, I’ll dedicate this one to them.

  Thank you for being patient most of the time,

  for being supportive once in a while,

  and for loving me always.

  Alisha

  Saidee

  Cayla

  Jaylynn

  &

  Sophia

  Description

  Ash Pride

  Being branded the sexiest man alive is a curse. The day People Magazine gave me that title and plastered me on every newsstand in the country was the day my life got complicated.

  Finding a nanny is hard enough when your four-year-old son is a prankster, who lives to torture his nanny. But now every applicant wants to sleep with me, and I don’t do the nanny.

  It’s my only rule, and I never break it.

  Until now.

  Until Stella.

  Stella Deardon

  The Cattle Industry Convention and Trade show was supposed to be boring. That was before sexy billionaire rancher Ash Pride tried to rope me into being his son’s nanny.

  I’m no Mary Poppins; I don’t know the first thing about kids, and I already have a job on my family’s ranch.

  But Ash Pride doesn’t take no for an answer, and when he looks at me with his sensual, dark eyes, I’m not sure how long I can keep turning him down.

  1

  Mr. Whoa, oh my God, superhumanly handsome, yet familiar.

  Stella

  I wanted to lie on the beach in the warm sand wearing the skimpiest bikini imaginable, with a margarita in one hand and a dirty book in the other. Instead, I’m on my way to The Cattle Industry Convention and Trade show.

  Shooting the shit with a bunch of people about cattle feed options and interfacing with other producers is as interesting to me as a cup full of mud. But this year my daddy isn’t feeling well so he can’t go, and my sister Charlotte is still off at college, and my little brother Jack Jr. is… well, let’s just say, he couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with a hole in the toe and directions on the heel.

  If I didn’t look so much like my daddy, I would swear on a stack of bibles that I was switched at birth. That’s how out of place I feel in my family, and not just in my family, in my life.

  Don’t get me wrong, ranch life has been good to me and I’ve never wanted for any material thing. I’ve always had a big roof over my head and food on the table but I’m thirty years old, and the itch to do something different is becoming unbearable.

  I always felt there was something missing in my life, something integral that makes me, me. The trouble is, I have no idea what that is. But I do know what it isn’t, ranching and accounting, both things I do for my family.

  Yet, here I am in Billings, Montana in a fancy ass hotel lobby, waiting for the key to my fancy ass room that I couldn’t care less about staying in. I need a cigarette like yesterday, and this damn hotel is entirely non-smoking... figures. I could also go for a drink, or six, after that two-hour turbulent filled flight I just endured.

  I sigh and fiddle with the handle on my suitcase, swaying back and forth while the line moves at a snail’s pace. I decide to pass the time scoping out the men around me, even though ranch men have never done it for me, at all.

  I was always attracted to the wrong kind of men, the dishonest, cheating, selfish, self-centered, inconsiderate, arrogant, close-minded, hypocritical, unreliable, short tempered, immoral kind of men. The bad boys, the womanizers, the charmers, those are my ex-boyfriends.

  It’s like I’m a magnet, an asshole beacon in the night for jerks. They find me, lure me in, put on an incredible act, but they always end up showing their true self and amazingly, I’m always surprised.

  So, in the spirit of self-preservation, I have sworn off handsome, charming men for eternity, and I now look for ordinary average men who might consider themselves lucky to have a woman such as myself.

  My recent six-month dry spell is proof that this logic isn’t going well, but since I missed the day God handed out asshole radars, it’s all I’ve got.

  On my right, there is a pudgy rancher named Billy with his wife and three kids, who are getting more and more annoying by the second. I know this rancher's name is Billy because he has it stitched, along with the name of his ranch, on his bright red button-up shirt. God, Ranchers turn me off.

  Billy’s wife catches my eye and gives me a weak smile and an apologetic shoulder shrug. She knows her kids are little shitheads even if Billy doesn’t.

  My eyes move to the revolving door where a man is entering holding the hand of a young boy, maybe four or five, who is in full-on meltdown mode. He’s screaming and yanking the man’s arm, forward and back violently. He'll be lucky if the kid doesn't dislocate his shoulder.

  Everyone turns to stare because that’s what people do when a kid is hysterically screaming in a public place. I feel sorry for the poor guy, but he doesn’t seem flustered. In fact, he’s standing like a stone statue letting the boy yank his arm as if this kind of thing happens all the time and maybe it does.

  While Banshee boy continues his tantrum, I follow the man’s jerking arm up to his shoulder and then to his whoa, oh my God, superhumanly handsome, yet familiar face.

  I don’t get time to think about where I know him from when he begins to move through the gawking crowd with his screeching charge. I am last in line to check in, which means whoa, oh my God, superhumanly handsome, yet familiar guy and banshee boy are forced to take their place right behind me.

  My need for a cigarette and a drink multiply tenfold listening to this small human freak out so close to me. After what is probably fifteen seconds, that feels like fifteen minutes, I turn around and squat down facing the little demon looking him straight in the eye.

  “You’re very noisy. You know that, right?” I say, surprising him into a sudden silence. I feel dozens of sets of relieved eyes on my back. It’s funny to me that staring at a child when he's quiet is acceptable, but not when he’s losing his shit.

  Everyone in the lobby politely averted their eyes, some of them rolling, when these two showed up, but now, it’s all eyes on us.

  He nods.

  “Is there a reason you’re being so noisy?” I ask, and the man begins to say something. Without looking at him, I hold up my hand to keep him from interrupting me. I do this because he is devastatingly handsome, and if I look at him I’ll forget what I’m going to say.

  “I don’t wanna be here,” he says.

  “No? Me either. Did your dad make you come?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Me, too. I wanted a vacation on a beach, but my daddy said I had to come to this dumb thing instead. My name’s Stella, what’s yours?”

  “Cannon.”

  Cannon, that’s a cool ass name for a kid. I nod my head up and down. “I like that. It's cool. So, how about you stop screaming and we become friends instead? We can commiserate, you know what that means?”

  He shakes his head.

  “It means we can think this thing sucks together.”

  A smile spreads across his face, and I realize for the first time what a beautiful child he is when he’s quiet, and his face isn’t all twisted up. He looks a lot like the man holding his hand, the one that I feel like I've met before.

  I hold out my hand to shake Cannon’s, but he launches himself into my arms almost knocking me off my feet. Thank God Mr. whoa, oh my God, superhumanly handsome, yet familiar grabbed my shoulders to steady me.

  With my guard down from the jolt, I look up at him, and my mouth falls open. We are so close I can smell him, and he smells like soap and musk and… crayons. He smells like a daddy, Cannon’s daddy?

  Suddenly the sound of clapping and hooting and whistling roars in my head, like a tilde wave, and I look around.

  Are these people really applauding my successful attempt to quiet Cannon? If t
hey are, that’s just plain rude as hell.

  I rip my eyes from Cannon’s daddy and turn to the crowd that is closing in on us fast.

  “Mr. Pride, could you sign my copy of People magazine?” “Mr. Pride, how does it feel to be the sexiest man alive?”

  That’s why he looks familiar. Mr. Ashton Pride, the richest rancher in the U.S. and recently named People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. He is also known to be a major trouble-making playboy who refuses to settle down, so how is it that he’s here with a kid?

  Cannon whimpers and burrows his face deep into my neck, squeezing me tight when the crowd converges upon us. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” I say into his hair, and Mr. Pride’s big warm hands slide off of my shoulders down to my arms to guide me up.

  Cannon is clinging to my body like a baby monkey when I feel one hand disappear from my arm and reappear around my waist guiding me out of the lobby.

  “Wait, I don’t know…”

  “Quiet,” he says, and my body stiffens.

  “Daddy’s mad,” Cannon murmurs into my hair. So, this is Cannon’s daddy.

  Leaning in way too close for my comfort, he tells Cannon, “I’m getting us out of here before we get trampled,”

  “Cuz a dat magazine?”

  “Yeah, buddy, because of that magazine.” He kisses the side of Cannon’s head, and my knees wobble under me.

  Mr. whoa, oh my God, superhumanly handsome, yet familiar is also, Mr. sweet, loving, protective daddy.

  Well, there goes any hope of him being attracted to me, not that I have had time to hope, but yeah, I sort of did. He can’t be all of those good things and a total douche bag, which is the only kind of man I attract.

  But, I hadn’t attracted him, had I? No, it was his son who I felt compelled to talk to, not his hot daddy. And in all honesty, I gotta say, his son was acting outwardly like most men who are attracted to me when they show their true colors. Not that I’m calling Cannon a douche bag. He’s just a little kid with plenty of time to learn how to be like his daddy, but who am I to say no to meeting a great guy via a glitch in the universe’s code?

  “This way,” he says guiding me toward a door next to the front desk that says Employees Only.

  “Um, I don’t think we’re supposed to…”

  “Shush, keep moving,” he says, herding me like he probably herds his fucking cattle. I stop moving, but I don’t actually stop moving, he is stronger than I am, pushy and he’s turning out to be a bit of a bully.

  Now I see why he’s attracted to me. He’s an asshole, and I’m an asshole magnet. Now it's all making sense.

  2

  Little Charmer

  Ash

  That damn People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive cover is ruining my life every second it’s on the sales rack. I don’t even know why I was considered, let alone chosen for the cover, with all of the famous movie stars and singers in the world. I’m a cattle rancher from Montana for God’s sake. I ride horses, step in shit, and sweat through my clothes for a living. My life is as unglamorous as they come.

  Sure, the paparazzi follow me around when I go out on the town, which is often, but only because drama is my siren song. Dad hates my unsolicited fame, he says I inherited it from my mother, a woman he hates, and maybe I did. I’ll never know for sure since she took off when I was a baby.

  And this woman, Stella, I think that’s what she said her name is, where did she come from? What kind of magic or voodoo does she possess? No one, and I mean no one, has ever gotten Cannon to shut up and stop one of his crying jags with a few simple words. I can’t say I don’t understand why he likes her, she’s stunning, but still, Cannon is Cannon and he pretty much hates everybody.

  “Back here, I know the general manager, we can go up the service elevator,” I say to Stella as we enter an area labeled Authorized Personnel Only. She murmurs something into Cannon’s ear, and my curiosity is piqued.

  Cannon is quiet as he clings to the sexy curves that make up Stella’s body. I take full advantage of the fact that she is holding my son by wrapping my arm around her and guiding them with my hand on her curvy hip.

  Mr. Valentino steps out of an elevator into the private hallway where we are. “Mr. Pride, I'm happy to see you. I’m sorry about the fuss in the lobby. I should have had you come in the back entrance to avoid all of that.”

  “Yes, you should have. Take us to our room.” I don’t like bullshit, and Mr. Valentino is frequently full of it. He knew my checking in would cause a frenzy and bring attention to his hotel. He purposely didn’t arrange for us to come in a back way.

  His fake ass smile falls into a straight line when I’m short with him, and he steps aside allowing us to enter the elevator.

  When we are inside, and the doors are closing, Mr. Valentino turns to smile at Stella holding out his hand, “I don’t think I have had the pleasure, my name is Mr. Valentino. I’m the general manager here at the Crimson Haven Hotel and Spa.”

  I step between the slimy predator and Stella causing him to drop his hand, and if I'm lucky, his act. Cannon straightens up with strands of Stella’s hair stuck to his face to see who’s speaking to Stella. He looks almost as protective as I feel. Stella leans forward and gives Valentino an apologetic smile.

  “I’m Stella, it’s nice to meet you, too, and this is Cannon. Thank you for helping us.”

  “Ah, Stella Deardon?”

  I roll my eyes. I’ll bet this guy investigated every woman attending this convention to make each one of them feel at home, preferably in his bed underneath him, a different one every night for a week.

  I feel her glance at me. I’m sure she noticed my eye roll from the irritated tone in her voice when she responds. “Yes, how did you know that?”

  “It’s my job to know everyone attending the convention and make sure they have the most comfortable stay possible.”

  The way he says this makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I do not like this man, and I can’t get us out of this elevator soon enough.

  “You talk funny,” Cannon says. For once I’m not embarrassed by my son’s direct and innocent manner. This guy does talk funny, like he has a fake Italian accent or something. Even a four-year-old recognizes it.

  Valentino’s eyebrows shoot up, and he stumbles to answer. I'm so loving this, but Stella has to go and spoil my fun.

  “That’s not nice, Cannon honey. He has an accent; some people are from other places where they speak differently than we do.

  Valentino glances at Cannon and smiles quick and short.

  “Oh,” Cannon says, unsure of what exactly that means, but for some reason accepting it since it came from this new woman named Stella.

  The elevator dings and the doors slide open on the 28th floor where the Presidential Suite is located. I step out, and Stella follows still holding Cannon.

  “Will you be staying with Mr. Pride, Miss Stella?”

  “Oh, no. I was just helping out. I have a single room reserved,” she glances at the open atrium, and I see her jaw clench right before she steps away from it, “downstairs. I, uh, I don’t care for heights.”

  “I see, alright, well, let me show you to your suite, Mr. Pride, and then I’ll find out where your room is, Miss Stella.” Valentino looks like the fucking cat that swallowed the canary and a muscle twitches in my jaw. That asshole thinks he just won the Stella jackpot and for some reason, I don’t fucking like it one bit.

  “She will be staying with us,” I announce and place my hand on the small of Stella’s back to guide her down the hall, making sure to stay on her right so she doesn’t have to see how high up we are.

  It takes her a couple of steps before she stops short. “What? No, I have a room reserved, and I don’t even know you.”

  “He’s daddy, and he’s the sexest man live,” Cannon says, smiling ear to ear.

  “The sexiest man alive,” I correct him. We all knew what he meant to say, but right now I feel like rubbing it in Valentino’s face.

&nb
sp; She smiles down at Cannon, and his little face lights up, like the morning sun over the Montana Beartooth Mountains. “I think you had it right the first time buddy,” she says, and Cannon giggles not because he understands but because Stella said it.

  I am not sexest. What the hell? Protective, dominant, overbearing and bossy, yes, but sexest, no.

  “You’ll be more comfortable in the Presidential Suite with us.”

  “Peeeze,” Cannon begs, and I know she’s done for. Nobody can resist this kid when he decides to be sweet, which isn’t often.

  Her eyes dart between Cannon, Valentino, and me settling on Cannon. “Okay, I’ll come with you for a little bit, but then I have to go downstairs to my room.”

  Good enough.

  “Yay!” Cannon throws his arms in the air, and I stare stunned at the two of them for a moment, before continuing to guide her down the hall. Valentino follows us, sulking, with his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his expensive Italian suit pants.

  When we arrive in front of door number 1, Valentino hands me a small envelope with two key cards. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Pride,” he says and leans to the side to speak to Stella, who I have positioned behind me. “Miss Stella, you can call the front desk when you’re ready to go to your room. I’ll bring you your key cards.”

  “Oh, thank…”

  “That won’t be necessary.” I turn my back on Valentino, open my door and hook my arm around Stella’s waist to move her inside in one swift move.

  When the door closes on Valentino’s face, I turn and find a frowning Stella, who incidentally is almost as gorgeous as the bright smiling Stella, but in a salty way. I’m pretty sure she would be giving me a piece of her mind if it weren’t for my son in her arms.

  “Hungry? I’ll order room service.” I ignore the irritation knitted between her brows and stroll into the extravagant living room area removing my jacket and tossing it on the closest chair.