She turned back to him, a small smile now on her face. A genuine one, but her dark eyes still held a hint of melancholy. “Yes. Thank you for asking. I was in Bozeman looking at long-term care homes. My mom is...declining and I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it.”
Nice one, St. Claire. She’s got the weight of the world on her shoulders and you’re fighting the urge to run your fingers through her hair and get a taste of those full pink lips of hers.
He ran a hand over his face, his five o’clock shadow on its way to full fruition rough against his fingers. She faced the window once more. Her fingers toyed with the strap of her purse in her lap.
“What about your dad?” He didn’t want to pry, but he found himself longing to know more about this woman. And not just physically, either. His protective instincts had shown up when he pulled over to help her and were kicking in even more with each mile they drove.
“He passed away. That’s why I moved here. To Marietta.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” She looked at him once again. “I grew up in Billings but left for New York as soon as I got accepted to drama school. I wanted nothing more than to leave the small town life behind me. If you haven’t guessed already, I’m not exactly the country girl type.”
He smiled at that. No, she was color and playfulness, a hint of mischief in her eyes now as she talked. All flowing skirts and hair, he doubted she’d ever worn a pair of cowgirl boots.
She sighed and looked forward at the road. “Anyway, my dad had a heart attack almost two years ago. My parents had moved from Billings to Marietta by then, wanting an even smaller town life. I moved back to be near my mom.” She huffed out a laugh. “To be honest, I wasn’t exactly making it in New York, but let’s keep that between you, me, and this beast of a car.”
He nodded in agreement. “I understand.” And he did. His father had made his fortune working in broadcasting, television, and films. It was a rough field to succeed in, for actors and actresses more than most. He’d seen firsthand how ruthless people could be. It was a tough place to belong, even tougher to find friends, people you could trust. Not to mention a person could get passed up for a part because their eyes were the wrong color or they weren’t the “right” height.
“I don’t know. I’m not unhappy.” She shrugged. “I opened my studio and am madly in love with those kids. So much hope in their eyes. They’re totally uninhibited, not tainted yet by criticism or negativity. I like being around them. Their joy is contagious, ya know?”
“I do know.”
“That’s right. You do know. That daughter of yours is precious. Quite the little matchmaker, too.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down.
He laughed. “Annalise is a force to be reckoned with, yes. And I don’t think her uncle Wes had any idea who he was up against when she matched him with Noelle for the Bachelor Bake Off.”
Franchesca laughed as well. “I was there when she batted those big, blue eyes at Noelle and Wes. Their faces were priceless. Two deer caught in the headlights doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
They shared another good laugh at his brother and Noelle’s expense.
“They’re so good together though. I think Annalise saw something before the rest of us did, maybe even before Wes and Noelle.”
“She is something else, that child of mine. She’s begging me to take drama classes with you, but I saw on your website that she’s still a little too young.”
“Unfortunately, she is. She’s about five or six, right?”
“She’s almost six going on eighteen. It’s killing me.”
Franchesca laughed. “My dad used to say the same thing about me.”
“Do you have siblings?” Based on what she’d said so far, Mike would bet no, but talking to her was so...relaxing. He didn’t want it to stop.
“No. I’m an only child.”
Like his daughter. Of course, he could marry again and have more children, but that idea had taken a back seat—a far back seat—to the rest of his life at the moment. Although the woman beside him had him considering things he hadn’t in a long time. Like a date.
“That’s why this all falls on me.” Her eyes turned sad once more. “Not that I’m complaining. I love my mom. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she has good care.”
“What’s she struggling with?”
“Her memory. A short time ago, she was okay, but it’s starting to progress. Her doctor says he sees signs of dementia. I’m just trying to think ahead. Be as prepared as I can.”
“Isn’t there a care home in Marietta?”
“Yes. May Bell Care Home. And it’s fantastic. But I’m looking at all my options. All the costs...” Her voice trailed off.
Hmm. Money was an issue. Maybe he could help with that.
An idea formed in his head. It was quick and his wheels spun faster by the second, but maybe it could work. He wanted to think it through before he blurted out anything.
Franchesca tried not to get too excited that Mike had checked out her website. She stifled a laugh. She ran a drama studio for kids. He looked up classes and information online like all the other parents did. He hadn’t “check her out.” She did a mental eye roll at her acting like a middle school kid excited that the cutest boy in school followed her Instagram page. They were grown-ups. Well, he was at the moment anyway.
It was time to stop talking about her life and problems though. “What was in Bozeman?”
He blinked as if the question drew him from his thoughts. “I was meeting with a race team owner.”
“Are you going to start racing again?”
The way his body tensed at the question was not lost on her.
“No. Well, not yet. I don’t know.”
He didn’t come across as the kind of man who struggled to answer questions. He and Wes both had an air of complete confidence 100% of the time. To see him falter made her curious. And her curiosity tended to take her down paths that weren’t smart. But she was never one to shy away from a challenge. “What’s holding up your decision?”
He looked at her and lifted one side of his mouth. A kissable, tempting mouth, to be sure.
“You don’t beat around the bush do you?”
“No.”
He nodded and focused on the road again. They passed a sign that stated they were five miles from Marietta. If she wanted info out of him, she needed to get him talking soon. And fast.
“My daughter. She’s lost one parent. I don’t want her losing the other.”
“And you’re sure she’ll lose you if you race? Are you not good at it?”
That got a laugh from the gut out of him. The deep, male sound sent shivers down her spine. He was gorgeous straight faced. When he smiled big and laughed he attained Greek god status. For a second, Franchesca almost regretted her question. But after seeing his reaction, she decided it was worth digging a little into Mike St. Claire.
“No. I’m very good at it.” He turned to her again, the look in his eye turning her insides to mush. Good Lord, she was aware he was answering her question, talking about driving, but her whole body sensed he meant other things as well. She didn’t doubt it. Not one bit.
The inside of the car turned about twenty degrees hotter. Although he was cool as a cucumber as he downshifted the car just outside of town.
“If you’re good at it, then what’s the worry?”
“Racing is dangerous.”
“True. But taking some ‘safe’ office job instead doesn’t guarantee things either.”
“You’re going to have to tell me how to get to your house.”
His question steered them from the track their conversation was on, but as they entered Marietta, it was appropriate.
“Why don’t you take me to the mechanic’s shop? I’ll wait there for my car. I want to know how much it’s going to cost me to fix it and how long I’ll be without a vehicle.”
“There’s no need to wait. I told Dillon to call me once
he’s got your car and has taken a look at it.”
“You told the mechanic to call you?” Her attempt to keep the irritation from her voice failed.
He was not fazed by her obvious distaste for him taking control of the situation. “Yes. I don’t know your number and since I know about cars and I’m guessing you don’t, I could give you the information and help you decide what to do.”
She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Another thing that did not faze him in the least. “Take me to the shop.”
“Okay. But I’m waiting with you.”
She thought about huffing over that, but figured there’d be no reason to argue with the man. It was clear he was pompous enough to think she couldn’t handle things herself. But in truth, he wasn’t wrong. She didn’t know jack squat about cars and although he said this mechanic was a good guy, it would be nice to have someone she knew give their two cents.
They pulled into the drive of the auto shop and parked.
“Do you mind if I step outside to make a couple calls?”
“Call away.” She waved him off with her hand.
He grinned at her and got out of the car.
She looked out her window, attempting to accept her fate. Mike St. Claire was nice to look at – über nice to look at – but had a take-charge manner she had no patience for. She’d been raised to not need a man, or anyone, fully sufficient on her own. And Mike wasn’t her type anyway. She’d always dated artists or writer types. Sensitive men, not ones who had to prove their manliness by running everything.
“You still in here harrumphing over me offering my help?” He’d gotten back in the car and was turned in the driver’s seat so he could face her.
“I am doing no such thing” – even though she was – “and I don’t recall you offering anything. Manhandled the situation is more like it.”
He laughed hard again. “Manhandled, huh?”
“Yes.” She’d turned in her seat as well to face him. Her arms were still folded across her chest, her eyes boring into his to help make her point.
“There was no manhandling here, Franchesca.” He leaned forward, his eyes staring back into hers and winning the fight. “This is called helping a friend. It might do you some good to learn the difference.”
He leaned back in his seat once more and looked down at his phone that had dinged, alerting him to a text message. “Dillon says he has the car and is a few minutes out.”
Her breathing came hard. From his close proximity only seconds ago, the desire to place her lips on his and see if they were as yummy as they looked, or because what he’d said had infuriated her, she wasn’t sure. A bit of both.
She was not above accepting help from anyone. She wasn’t.
“Don’t overthink it, Franchesca. I honestly just want to help you.” He looked at her for a brief second, a small smile on his face an olive branch to smooth things over. His phone dinged once more and he looked at it again and started typing.
Infuriating or not, there wasn’t any fight left in her. Not today anyway. She’d find out soon how much it would be to fix the car and then she’d have that to deal with on top of everything else.
Her parents had taught her to be independent, yes. And self-sufficient. But they’d also taught her to pick her battles. And this wasn’t one worth fighting. Beyond the moment of manhandling she’d accused him of, he’d been nothing but kind. And he wasn’t wrong. She hadn’t a clue about cars. His input would be helpful.
She’d be damned if she ever admitted that to him though.
He placed a hand under her chin and with a gentle touch, turned her to face him. “Are we still friends?”
Those milk chocolate eyes that stood out against his dark hair and scruffy jaw could very well be her undoing. Yet another thing she’d be damn sure not to tell him. “I’ll think about it.”
He laughed again and got out of the car to meet the tow truck that had pulled in. But not before saying, “Let me know. Because I like you, Franchesca. And it’s good to have friends.”
Chapter Three
Franchesca tried hard to focus on what the mechanic was saying, but couldn’t seem to get her brain away from how Mike had looked at her when he’d asked if they were still friends. Were they friends? Acquaintances for sure. And whether a friend or acquaintance, who was he to tell her she needed to learn to accept help?
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s the damage.”
She blinked and forced her attention to the mechanic who had been talking to her while leaning over the engine of her car. Well, he talked to Mike more, but had turned to her with his last comment.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” She hated that her cheeks flushed with embarrassment over being caught not paying attention. Damn Mike for getting her head all in a mess.
“I said it’s going to be about $800 to fix.” He looked from her to Mike, aware that Mike was paying attention while she wasn’t.
She put her face in her hands, if only to avoid eye contact with either male so there would be no pity given to the poor lady who was about to lose it in the middle of a repair garage in downtown Marietta.
“Could you give us a second, Dillon?” With a gentle hand to her back, Mike guided them a few steps away.
She dropped her hands, hoping the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Not only did she not have the money for the car repairs, she didn’t have the strength to fight off any attraction she had to Mike St. Claire. And she needed to. The last thing her life needed was a complicated relationship. She put her face in her hands again. How the heck had she even started to think about a relationship? The man was nice and had helped her. Period, end of sentence. He hadn’t asked her out. Sheesh, only minutes before he’d been pissing her off for taking control.
“Franchesca. It’s going to be okay.”
She took a deep breath, dropped her head back to look at the ceiling, and mustered up the courage to look him in the eye. “I appreciate your optimism. I do. But how?”
He looked unsure for a moment, as if thinking through his next statement with care.
“Well, unfortunately, Dillon is right. He’s honest and fair, but your car does need that much repair.”
“I know!” She threw her hands up and spun around. “And here I am with my mom headed Lord knows where with her health, a flailing drama school to run, a car to pay for, and I’m not exactly growing money out in the backyard.” She ticked each item off on her fingers, her flair for the dramatic something her mother, as well as all of her friends, teased her for.
“I may have a solution for you.”
That stopped her short, her tirade taking a back seat to curiosity. “Really?”
He looked unsure once more, his eyes wandering to his boots then to her again. One hand rubbed at the back of his neck. The other was tucked into the front pocket of his pants. “This racing team owner wants me to consider being the team manager. Since I’m not yet decided on whether I’ll actually drive again or not, he’s asked me to be a part of a team another way.” He shrugged. “I’m still thinking about it, but it means I need to travel again a decent amount.”
“That’s great, Mike. For real. I’m happy for you. You should be a part of racing if that’s what you love, but I don’t see what this has to do with me and my car problems.”
He took a deep breath in and let it out, his top teeth scraping along his bottom lip for a moment. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She blinked and tried to tamp down the shiver that ran through her. “I have a great family who helps me a lot and our housekeeper is wonderful, but I can’t always be there and...”
His voice trailed off. Franchesca thought that being tongue tied twice in a day had to be a record for the man.
“Are you asking me to be your daughter’s nanny?”
He may have cringed, but the movement was so slight, she couldn’t be sure. “Well, no. Not really. I just need help with Annalise. Especially in the summer when she doesn’t have school
. Glenna, our housekeeper, has so much to do, and my dad is great, but he’s not at an age where he can keep up with her every day.”
The man looked almost shy as he talked. It made any animosity she’d felt toward him fly out the window. Besides, he wasn’t offering a bad gig, really. Annalise was adorable, well behaved, and Franchesca was strapped for cash.
Taking her silence as a no, he continued. “Sorry. It was just an idea. I’m sure I can figure things out.”
Franchesca put her hands on her hips. “Hmm, who’s having trouble asking for help now?” She cocked her head to one side and smiled at him.
The grin he gave her all but knocked her backward. “Touché. But this is a paid position. You’d be helping me out with Annalise, I’d be helping you pay for car repairs and whatever finances come about for your mom’s care.”
“You’re smooth, St. Claire. I’ll give you that.”
She looked at her car once more. Damn it all. When she’d left Montana for New York, she never saw her future involving a small town again, and without a doubt, never imagined a job as a nanny. But when life gave her lemons, she’d learned the hard way how to make lemonade. Of course, this lemonade was being sweetened by one sexy rescuer, one she had just vowed to steer clear of because her life was messy enough. Being in his home, caring for his daughter, seeing his brown eyes more than a brief glance when he picked up Annalise from dance class... These were all red flags that should’ve made her say “no thank you” and be on her way. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
So, she turned to him, stuck out her hand for him to shake and said, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
To say Mike was shocked would be an understatement. He thought for sure Franchesca would run the other way screaming when he brought up helping him with Annalise.
For whatever reason, he hated the word “nanny.” It conjured up visions of little old ladies that über wealthy people hired to raise their kids for them, or hot, young women that couples hired not thinking through how that could go awry in a hurry. And Franchesca was neither. Well, she was young and beautiful and he was a single dad so that definitely meant he could fall into the category of things going awry, but he wasn’t married, he lived with his dad, brother, and housekeeper, for crying out loud, and had no intention of dating anytime soon.
Winning his Heart Page 2
