The Rancher’s Unexpected Nanny

by Jackson, Mary Sue

  “I bet you were wondering if this is where I took all the girls, weren’t you?” Finn asked at last, cracking a lame joke.

  “Maybe a little,” she smiled, playing along as she made the sky come alive on her canvas.

  "The truth is," he went on as if she hadn't answered, moving back into that contemplative, almost melancholy tone, "this was a place I found after Alex died. Stacy would come and watch Wendy, and I would just drive. For hours and hours. I would drive without going anywhere in particular. I found this place by accident, and when I did, I swear to you, Callie, I thought I'd stumbled onto an actual piece of heaven."

  “I can see why,” Callie said softly, letting the rhythm of his voice mix with the soothing motion of her brush.

  “It sort of turned into my secret place after that, my favorite place. It’s where I come to think. When I saw you painting in that class, I knew I needed to bring you here, too. I wanted to see it through your eyes.”

  "Thank you, Finn," Callie whispered, her canvas and the world behind it blurring for a moment with tears. "Thank you so much for sharing it with me. I feel honored. I don't even care if it sounds stupid for me to say that."

  “It doesn’t sound stupid at all. In fact, if we’re going to get sappy, I want to thank you, too.”

  “Me?” Callie asked, turning to look at him with surprise. “But why?”

  "Are you kidding me?" he asked, his eyes burning at her from where he sat leaned back on his elbows. "For everything. This hasn't been easy, Callie, none of it. Being a single father? That's not the sort of thing I'm cut out for. It doesn't come naturally to me, not by any stretch of the imagination."

  “Oh, Finn, I don’t think it comes naturally to anyone.”

  "Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't," he said. "I don't claim to know. All I know is that for me, it felt impossible. Then you come along and make everything feel almost normal again. What I'm trying to say is, you made our lives better. Hers, mine, both of ours together. I don't think I'll ever figure out how I'm supposed to thank you."

  “Well, this is a good start,” she said, gesturing to the expanse in front of them. “Bringing me here, to see this.”

  “Are you kidding me?” he guffawed. “This was a trip with entirely selfish motives.”

  “Is that so?” Callie asked, smiling at him uncertainly. “I don’t see how.”

  “Well, for starters, watching you paint is sexy as hell. I bet I get at least as much enjoyment watching as you do painting.”

  "But why?" Callie asked. The color was rising in her cheeks, but for once, she didn't mind a bit.

  "Because there's something that changes in you when you get in front of a canvas. When you've got a brush in your hand, you look freer, somehow. I don't know how to explain it any better."

  “No,” she said excitedly, “I think that’s the perfect way to explain it. I feel freer when I'm painting. I was born with a birth defect and while the doctors said I would probably grow out of it, I was sick a lot as a little girl. Like really, really sick.”

  “Wait. Are you okay now?” Finn interrupted her.

  Nodding her head, she smiled at him. “Oh yes. I did grow out of it by the time I’d hit high school but that never stopped my parents, well mostly my mom, from constantly checking up on me to make sure I wasn’t overexerting myself. Seriously, helicopter parents have nothing on a mom raising a sick child.” Callie paused thinking about her family.

  “In the beginning, I had to be careful not to do too many physical activities that would be normal for most kids. So, my parents got me my first paints when I was Wendy’s age because there were so many other things I couldn't do. I couldn't go places, couldn't handle anything that required more than minimal exertion. But the painting? It let me see the world in a different way. Now, when I see a new place, all I want to do is paint it."

  “Because?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “Because, when I paint a place, I see it for what it really is. I see the world behind the world.”

  “And what do you see when you paint this place?” he asked, his eyes still burning bright.

  “When I paint this place, I see magic.”

  Callie could hardly believe she had spoken the words out loud. She waited, cheeks burning, for Finn to make a joke, something to reduce the electric charge hanging in the air between them. Instead he took in a deep breath, held it, and then let it out in a great whoosh of air. When he looked at Callie again, his eyes were on fire.

  “Come here, Callie,” he demanded, “you can finish the painting later. Come here to me, for the love of God.”

  She went to him, the song “Wild Horses” playing in her head as clearly as if it was playing on the truck’s stereo. She had no idea what would happen in the future, except that when the summer ended, so would her time with Finn. That sort of thing would normally have stopped her in her tracks and had her asking primly to be driven back home. Now, she didn’t care. It didn’t have to be anything other than what it was right now: a beautiful moment, a chance to explore this man she wanted more than she had ever wanted a man in her life. She went to him, and as she walked, she pulled her dress up over her head, slowly, relishing the feeling of the fabric singing across the surface of her skin. She wore no bra, and the light breeze blowing across her nipples made them instantly hard.

  “You’re beautiful, do you know that?” Finn whispered, grabbing for her hand and pulling her down on top of him. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  He kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that seemed to go on for days, and her hands moved from his hair to the sides of his face. Her fingertips traced the line of his chiseled jaw, then dropped to his chest and downward from there. She lingered by the bottom hem of his shirt, toying with the fabric, then moved to the coarse hair below. When she finally slipped her hand beneath his clothing, Finn sighed into her mouth, sending a thrill of shivers up the length of her spine.

  “I want you, Callie,” he groaned against her. “I want you so badly. Is that okay? Is this?”

  “If you have to ask, I must not be doing it right,” she chuckled, “so let me make it clearer.”

  She took one of his hands, astonished to find it trembling, and guided it down her taut stomach until it found the part of her that throbbed for him the most.

  She moaned when his fingers began exploring, amazed and almost afraid of knowing that she could want another person this much. The self-critical part of her, so often far too vocal for comfort, was doing its best to step in and ruin the moment. There was the old familiar flurry of insecurity, the concern that her thighs might not be just right, that maybe she hadn’t done as good a job of shaving as she ought to for an encounter such as this. It was the kind of Negative Nancy voice a person could really get lost in if she wasn’t careful. She was tempted to fall into it—she might have, too, except that Finn’s fingers flicked at exactly the right moment and in the right way that she forgot about everything but their two bodies straining together.

  “Oh,” she sighed, “yes, Finn. That’s perfect…”

  She trailed off, her head rocking back on her neck, turning helplessly from side to side as of its own accord. She hardly knew what was happening when he sat up, took her into his strong arms, and flipped them so that he hovered above her. His arms, positioned on either side of her, were as strong as stone, and when her fingers dug into his skin, she couldn’t help being overwhelmed by the perfection of his muscles.

  “I want you, darling,” he crooned into her ear as he fumbled with his belt buckle, freeing himself in one fluid motion. “I want you more than just about anything.”

  “Then why don’t you go ahead and take me?” she dared.

  That was the end of talking. When Finn guided himself inside, Callie’s entire body arched, her neck straining with the need to be closer. She wrapped her legs around him, her hips rocking perfectly in time with his thrusts.

  All around them, the beauty of the world sang a soundtrack for them. When
her climax came over her, it came fast, her entire body shuddering with its impact. Her ears were full of the beauty of birdsong while her body was carried away on a sea of ecstasy. Above her, she was dimly aware of his body tensing, shaking, and then collapsing on top of her. She had no idea how long they remained that way. All she knew was that, for that moment, she wanted nothing more in the world than to take in the experience of him.

  Fifteen

  “Finn? Hey, Finn, are you in here?”

  Callie’s voice came wafting through the open barn door, questioning with a hint of worry. Finn heard it clear as day, but he didn’t bother answering. He wasn’t in the mood for a conversation—or much of anything but worrying over Wendy and waiting for her to get herself back home.

  "There you are," she said, stepping into the barn and hurrying to his side. She tried to lay a hand on his shoulder, but he avoided her touch, now was not the time for comfort. He'd been pacing in the barn for at least an hour, walking back and forth along the same invisible line and growing more agitated by the second. He sensed Callie’s hurt and he was sorry for upsetting her, truly, but he felt that if he stopped moving, he was going to explode.

  “Is she still not back?” Callie asked in a small, delicate voice.

  That was enough to stop Finn in his tracks, but turning to face Callie felt a lot like he was turning on her instead. “What do you think, Callie?” he asked, his voice harsh. “You think I’m pacing in here because I’m feeling relaxed?”

  "Okay, so she's not back," Callie answered with her familiar calm. Normally, he admired that about her, but at the moment, it was driving him out of his mind. He wanted her to get upset with him or get herself back into the house and leave him to his worry.

  “No,” he agreed angrily, “she’s not, and her little friend’s mom isn’t answering her cell phone, either.”

  “Look. Finn, I can see how upset you are,” Callie started, too obviously treading as carefully as if she was walking barefoot across a bed of broken glass.

  “You’re damn right I am,” he spat, hating the way he spoke to her but unable to control himself.

  "But this isn't helping anything,” Callie continued in a tone that reminded him of those parent-teacher conferences. "It's not helping you to get to the bottom of things, and it won't help Wendy when she finally does get home—which she will."

  “You’re always so calm and collected, aren’t you?” he shot back, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and stalking along his now well-worn path once again. She stared at him as he paced, looking at him like he was the most irrational man in the world. He imagined he could see in her face the need for him to calm down and take control of the situation.

  The way he was feeling, though, they were well past that point. The energy he was giving out was every bit as frantic as that of a spooked horse. He was fixing to lose himself entirely, and when that happened, he had no idea what it would take to get himself back or if it was something Callie was going to be able to handle. Despite their little tryst on the mountainside, the two of them didn't know all that much about each other. At the end of the day, they were simply two people trying to figure out how to find their way through the world without making too much of a mess of things. Two people. One of whom had a daughter missing in action.

  “Well, what would you prefer?” she asked, somehow managing to sound even calmer now than she had only seconds before. “I mean, did you have something in mind?”

  "I don't know!" he yelled, stopping to glare at her. "Maybe get a little excited, how about that? Maybe act like this might be serious because, news flash, it might be! She's a little girl, Callie. She’s little, and she's the only thing that matters in my world. I lose her, and I don't have anything at all."

  "I know that," she answered fiercely, moving toward him with a sudden fury in her eyes that was surprising enough to make him take a step or two backward. "Don't you think I know that? I'm no fool, Finn Henry, but I am rational, and that’s something you aren’t being right now. Do you really think it would help if we both fell apart?”

  "I don't know!" he shouted, throwing his hands into the air. The problem was, he did know. The answer was as plain as the nose on his face. She was right, which had to mean he was wrong. He had never been a fan of being wrong or put in his place, and it stung doubly now. Not being able to be the kind of strength he needed to be for his little girl felt like a stiff punch to the gut.

  His despair must have shown on his face, too, because he saw Callie's expression soften somewhat. She sighed, brushing the hair out of her face and moving closer to him, slowly, as if he really was a spooked horse.

  He had half a mind to tell her to keep her distance until he had a better hold of himself, only he didn't think it would make any difference. What little he knew for sure about Callie told him she wasn't the type to be deterred by something so trivial as a warning about his current mood, which was far too plain to see for his comfort.

  "Finn," she said softly, taking his hands when they were close enough to touch, "why don't you just come inside with me, okay?"

  “What on earth for?” he growled, unable to look her in the eye. He did his best to shrug her off, to pull his hands free of hers, but she wouldn’t let him. This woman was nothing if not determined when she wanted something, and at the moment, the thing she wanted involved him.

  "Well," she continued smoothly, making it sound like the two of them were having a casual conversation about the weather instead of a daughter long past due home and a father losing his grip, "for starters, I'm guessing you could use something to eat. You've been out here too long, and unless I'm mistaken, you skipped lunch today. You need some kind of nourishment in your body to help you think straight."

  “There’s no way, woman,” he said, clenching his jaw to keep from saying more he might regret. “Sitting down and having a meal is about the last thing I’m in the mood for right now.”

  “Because you think she’s hurt?” Callie probed, her eyes searching his face. “Do you really think that? You think her friend’s mom took her off somewhere? Kidnapped her—or something?”

  “What?” he asked, instantly defensive. “No, I don’t think she’s been kidnapped. I just—”

  “Just what?” Callie pushed, “You’re angry enough, so tell me what for. What exactly do you think is going on here?”

  "I don't know, okay?!" he roared, feeling for all the world exactly like one of the animals he kept corralled in his stables. "All I know is, she ain't here, and I can't lose her. I just can't, Callie. I can't do it. I—"

  He might have gone on forever that way, raving and working himself into a frenzy there would be no coming back down from. The closer Callie pushed him to the truth, the surer he was that he was going to lose his grip. Because, in his heart of hearts, he knew that Wendy was more than likely safe and sound. What he was dealing with now was his first real understanding that one of these days—and it would come a whole lot sooner than seemed possible—she was going to grow up and leave him for good.

  “Hey,” Callie’s voice cut through the rising panic inside his head, “it’s okay, Finn. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re a good father.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” he demanded. His voice sounded weaker than it had before, though, diminished somehow. It was as if Callie was a sorcerer, putting a spell on him with nothing more than the soothing tones of her voice. Her calm was maddening, but it was hypnotic as well. When her hands moved to the front of his shirt, he did nothing to try and put a stop to it.

  “Everything, Finn,” she crooned, rising up onto the tips of her toes and kissing the corners of his mouth, “it’s got everything to do with it. With all of it.”

  The part of him that had been pent up, trapped in his own worry and doubt, exploded when his lips found hers. He snaked his hands into her hair, greedily tugging her head backward so that he could have better access to her. All of a sudden, it seemed imperative that he have her. He didn't just
want her, he needed her. He needed to feel her warmth enfolding him, to take in the sweet oblivion of being caught between her perfect thighs.

  “Okay like this?” he growled into her ear, his body tingling all over when she gasped at the feel of his hot breath moving across her ear. “Is this okay? Like this?”

  “Yes,” she answered him breathlessly, and as if what he was speaking to her now wasn’t utter nonsense, she added, “Yes, just like this. Oh, Finn.”

  He clutched her to his chest, walking the two of them backward until her back was pressed against the wall. His hands moved hungrily up the front of her blouse, his skin burning with the feel of her flesh against his. He pawed at the zipper of her jeans so roughly, he had her pants halfway down before they were even all the way unzipped. He took one of her legs in his hand, pulling it up and guiding it around his hip as he steadied her, making sure the both of them didn't go tipping right over.

  All the while, she looked into his eyes unflinchingly, not the faintest hint that his need might be overwhelming to her.

  When her hand slid down the front of his waistline, he groaned, his eyes slipping shut as he lost himself in the feeling of her hot skin against his own burning desire. She moved slowly, almost lazily, her hand sliding up and down his length until he thought he would go insane. He hardly registered what he was doing when he pushed her hand away roughly, sliding his own jeans open enough to guide himself inside her. She gasped, her body shuddering as she nuzzled her face into the hollow between his neck and his shoulder.