by Renee Ryan
Both men looked at her, then at each other. Something passed between them before Ethan lifted a shoulder. “It’s up to you, Con.”
Olivia breathed a sigh of relief, ready to celebrate the win-win, until she realized Con hadn’t given his answer.
“Well?” she asked him.
Another glance at her brother, then... “Let’s try it.”
Yes. “Well, then. If you have no objection, I could go over to your house this morning.” When he started to speak, she added, “It’ll be easier for the girls if I learn their routine while your sister is still around.”
He went silent again, his eyebrows drawing together.
Reminding herself she wasn’t in charge, yet, she took a deep breath and forced her words out more carefully than before. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I merely assumed you would want me to start as soon as possible.”
“I don’t have a problem with you heading over to my house this morning.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Actually, it’s not a bad idea. I’ll call Avery and let her know to expect you.”
“Excellent.” Olivia hadn’t seen Avery in years. It’d be nice to catch up. “I’ll call you when I’m through and we can iron out the details of my job duties.”
“Good enough.”
She turned to go.
“Olivia?”
She looked over her shoulder, and nearly tripped. The impact of Connor’s golden eyes sliding over her face was like a physical blow. It didn’t help matters that Ethan had gone unnaturally silent, watching them interact with those all-seeing Ranger eyes. “Yes?”
Connor angled his head. “Do you know where I live?”
“Uh...no.”
Lips twitching, he rattled off his address. Why did that sound so familiar?
This time, when she turned to leave, neither man tried to stop her. They did, however, follow her into the parking lot, neither speaking, both watching her closely.
Refusing to be intimidated, she climbed into her car. Ethan’s earlier warning knocked around in her brain. Be sure this is what you want to do.
Oh, she was sure. Very sure.
Chapter Four
Standing beside Ethan in the parking lot, Connor watched Olivia zip away in a sporty red BMW. The car was a perfect fit for the woman she’d become—sophisticated, chic, with an unexpected kick under the hood. The cheery wave she tossed through the open sunroof made him smile.
Thinking of her with his girls felt good. It felt right.
For an alarming moment, he teetered between past and present, wondering if he’d made a mistake hiring Olivia.
Ethan clapped him on the back. “Your daughters will love my sister. She’s a natural with kids.”
Connor remembered the way she’d interacted with the girls in the park yesterday, how easy she’d been with them and how quickly she’d been able to tell them apart.
Olivia seemed the perfect solution to his childcare problems, and a good fit with his daughters. Still, Connor couldn’t rid himself of the notion that he’d just made his life more complicated rather than less. “Hard to think of your sister as a high-powered banker rescuing companies from financial ruin.”
“Surprised all three of us when she chose a business career instead of pursuing medicine.” Ethan slipped his hands into his pockets, stared out over the parking lot as if lost in thought. “The Scotts have been doctors for three generations.”
The Mitchells had been in the profession nearly as long, with one glaring exception. The first doctor in Connor’s family had been a woman. The rest of his cousins were ranchers, an even longer family tradition than medicine.
“With Olivia’s love of kids, I thought she’d go into pediatrics.”
“And with your trauma experience I thought you’d join Ryder in the E.R. when you left the military.”
Although his shrug was casual, Ethan’s face went blank, like a switch turning off.
Connor didn’t press. He never did. But he couldn’t help wondering what had happened to his friend on that last tour of duty in Afghanistan.
“Doesn’t matter why,” he said aloud. “You’re stuck with me now, treating nothing more complicated than runny noses, an occasional spider bite and a broken bone or two. Riveting stuff.”
Ethan laughed, as Connor knew he would. They saw worse, sometimes much worse, but nothing compared to what his friend had encountered in a war zone.
“Speaking of broken bones.” Ethan shook his head. “Robbie Anderson is in Exam Room 2.”
Again? “Which one this time?”
“Left tibial shaft. The kid was lucky, though. It’s a stable fracture and the fibula wasn’t damaged at all.”
“I suppose that’s something.”
As they reentered the building, Ethan added, “There’s considerable swelling, so I’ll have to splint the leg first, see about a cast later. Tasha’s prepping him now.”
Good. A former search and rescue coordinator, the nurse knew her way around broken bones.
“You take 1.” Ethan jerked his chin at the closed door farther down the hallway. “The patient specifically requested you.”
Not quite sure what he saw in the other man’s eyes, Connor reached for the chart in the door holder.
Chuckling softly, Ethan disappeared into Exam Room 2.
Alone in the hallway, Connor gave the chart in his hand a cursory glance. He groaned softly. The patient behind door Number 1 was Lacy Hargrove, Village Green’s self-proclaimed most eligible bachelorette. No denying the young divorcée was beautiful, in an over-the-top, plastic sort of way. She was also on the prowl for husband number three.
Connor groaned again.
The woman made him uneasy. She made most men in town uneasy, even the stalwart, battle-toughened, Ethan Scott. No wonder the coward had pawned her off on Connor.
Hitting his cue perfectly, Ethan stuck his head out of Exam Room 2. “Tag, buddy, you’re it.”
Connor snarled. “Anyone ever mention you have a mean streak?”
“Only every other person who meets me.”
* * *
Following the GPS voice commands on her phone, Olivia swung her car onto Aspen Way. Anticipation building, she inched along, verifying addresses as she went. Each block she covered brought her closer to the edge of town. At the last house on the street, she slammed on the brakes.
Her mouth dropped open and waves of delight washed over her. Connor had bought Charity House.
The sprawling old home had once been an orphanage in the 1800s. Or rather, a baby farm, which was really just a fancy name for a place where prostitutes in the Old West sent their illegitimate children for a solid Christian upbringing.
Both the Scotts and the Mitchells had ancestors directly connected to the place. Some of the stories were legendary, others so far-fetched Olivia hadn’t believed them for a moment.
Members of both families had worked at the orphanage, while others had married someone closely connected. All had lived out their faith, showing God’s grace to abandoned children and their prostitute mothers.
Smiling, Olivia swung her car onto the gravel road leading to the grand old mansion.
A sense of rightness filled her. This temporary nanny position came at a perfect time in her life. During the day, she would concentrate on taking care of Connor’s daughters. Maybe even teach them how to cook while testing out new recipes. At night, she would work on her business plan, perfecting it until she was ready to present her idea to a bank or potential investor.
Win-win.
As long as she kept her heart firmly guarded and remembered her place in Connor’s home.
The three-story house was undergoing renovations, as evidenced by the scaffolding. Even in its unfinished state, the home was s
omething straight out of a fairy tale—whimsical in design, the sharp angles of the roof were softened by clinging wisteria, rounded windows and wrought-iron balconies.
Head full of damsels in distress and happily-ever-afters, Olivia parked her car at the end of the drive and climbed out. She’d barely commandeered the steps leading onto a lovely wraparound porch when the front door flew open. Out spilled a wild-eyed, frazzled young woman Olivia immediately recognized.
“Good morning, Avery.”
“What’s good about it?”
The poor girl looked so overwhelmed, so flustered that Olivia found herself wanting to lighten the mood as quickly as possible. “That’s some kind of greeting after all these years.”
Avery’s face fell. “Oh, Olivia. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Cheeks bright pink, her golden eyes round with remorse, she clasped Olivia’s hands. “It’s been a bit hectic this morning.”
Aside from her flushed face, several blond locks had slipped out of her ponytail and now fluttered over her eyes.
“Are the girls giving you trouble?”
“Not even a little. They’re wonderful. But that dog of theirs?” Avery executed an impressive eye-roll. “He’s a walking nuisance on four pudgy legs.”
Samson’s latest victim. Unlike Carlotta’s experience with the puppy, at least Avery only suffered a large case of frustration.
“Let’s try this again.” Avery blew a strand of hair off her face. Her smile came quicker now, fuller. “It’s really great to see you. You look amazing.”
“I was thinking the same about you.” She squeezed her old friend’s hand. “And the good news is—”
A loud crash from inside the house cut off the rest of her words.
“Samson, no.” A panicked squeal followed the command. Then came the cringe-worthy statement “Not on the floor.”
“Here we go again.” Avery took off in a dead run.
Trailing after her, Olivia only had time for impressions as she rushed toward the back of the house. She noticed the décor and concluded that, much like the exterior, the interior was still a work in progress.
She caught up with Avery in the kitchen. She was on her hands and knees attacking Samson’s latest magnum opus with quiet fervor and a handful of paper towels.
The culprit was nowhere in sight. Nor, Olivia noted, were the twins.
“Megan and Molly hustled the puppy outside, probably to keep me from killing him. I wouldn’t have, you know.” Avery tossed the soiled towels in the trash, then went to wash her hands in the sink. “I’d never hurt the little guy.”
“Of course not.” Olivia patted her hand in commiseration.
“He’s just so full of...” Avery moved her shoulders as if trying to dislodge a heavy weight. “Energy.”
That was one way of putting it.
“Well, I have good news. I have nothing pressing on my calendar today. I can stick around and observe or help or whatever for as long as you need me.”
Avery leaned in close, nearly pressing her nose to Olivia’s. “How long are you suggesting?”
“All day, if necessary.”
“Woot!” Pumping her palms in the air, Avery wiggled her hips, twirled in a circle.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. To use Avery’s words, the girls were wonderful. And, yes, Samson was a nuisance. At least he was a cute nuisance, and easy enough to manage, once Olivia taught the stubborn little guy who was in charge. That had only taken three exhausting hours.
By midafternoon, Avery started making noise about needing to reread her anatomy and physiology notes before starting work in Connor’s office. After checking with Connor, Olivia told Avery to go on home.
She was out the door in a flash.
Now, a few minutes shy of six, the girls were busy setting the table in the kitchen’s breakfast nook while Olivia checked on the casserole she’d popped in the oven earlier. Satisfied it was cooking nicely, she carefully shut the oven door and looked around.
This must have been one of the first rooms Connor had renovated. Aside from the usual appliances, all top-of-the-line, there was an enormous refrigerator and a massive center island with a built-in grill.
She could do a lot of creating in a kitchen like this.
Sighing over the possibilities, she dragged her fingertip along the granite countertop, scooting around a slumbering Samson as she went. The puppy slept as hard as he played.
Smiling at him, she reached down to rub his upturned belly. The sound of a key turning in a lock had him leaping to his feet and bolting out of the kitchen.
“Daddy’s home,” Molly declared, chasing after the dog.
Megan joined the welcome-home party a half step later.
Olivia remained in the kitchen. She smoothed a hand over her hair, straightened the hem of her shirt, then checked her white jeans for stains and unwanted wrinkles.
Jeans don’t wrinkle, she reminded herself. Feeling oddly out of sorts, she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
What was wrong with her? She was usually so in control. Stubborn CEOs determined to drive their companies into financial ruin often required firm handling.
From the foyer, Connor’s rumbling laugh mixed with his daughters’ higher-pitched giggles. Olivia couldn’t help smiling and her nerves instantly disappeared. It was just Connor out there in the hallway, laughing with his daughters.
By the time he joined her in the kitchen, her heartbeat had almost leveled out. Then he aimed those startling amber eyes in her direction and she nearly forgot to breathe.
“You didn’t have to cut Avery loose.”
“Actually—” she shot a meaningful look at Samson trotting in the room behind him “—I did.”
Following the direction of her gaze, Connor winced. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not.”
Frowning, he picked up the puppy and tucked him under his arm. Olivia couldn’t fault the move, definitely a safer place for the animal than on the floor.
“Smells good in here.”
“It’s chicken divan casserole. My own secret recipe.”
The frown lines cut deeper across his forehead. “Cooking wasn’t part of our deal.”
Something in his tone put her on guard. “We don’t actually have a deal yet, remember? And I like cooking, so no problem.”
“I’d planned to order takeout tonight.” His tone never varied, his eyes never left her face, but the stiff way he held his shoulders told its own story. He didn’t like that she’d cooked for him and his family.
She had no idea why, but didn’t think it was her place to ask. “I can put the casserole in the freezer. That way you and the girls can enjoy it another time.”
An odd tension collected in the air between them, broken only when the twins entered the kitchen.
“Daddy, Daddy.” Molly tugged on her father’s arm. “Did Olivia tell you we helped make dinner?”
The smile Connor dropped on his daughter was full of affection, and much less forced than the one he’d given Olivia. “Sounds like fun.”
“It was superfun.” Megan pushed past her sister and came to stand next to Olivia. “We learned how to grate cheese and mix up biscuit dough from scratch and set the table properly.”
“That’s...” Connor shifted the puppy in his arms. “Nice.”
The poor man looked shell-shocked. Again, she wondered why. “Connor?” Olivia angled her head at him. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, great.” He seemed to visibly get hold of himself. Finally, he flashed a genuine smile at her. “And, no, you don’t have to freeze the casserole. We’ll eat it tonight.”
He sounded sincere.
Yet something had upset him. A dozen possibilities came to mind, none of them good, all o
f them caused by her, which made little sense. He’d hired her to take care of his daughters; surely that included making meals. Why the concern?
Perhaps if she explained that she’d only been trying to make the evening easier for him by cooking dinner, he’d feel less agitated. Of course, that wasn’t a conversation to be conducted in front of the girls.
“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” She smiled down at Molly. “Why don’t you and Megan take Samson out in the yard before we eat?”
“I guess we can do that.” She took the puppy from her father, glanced over at her sister. “Come on, Megan, let’s get this over with.”
The other girl stayed firmly rooted to Olivia’s side.
“Go on, sweetie.” Olivia gave her a gentle push toward the back door. “You can put ice in the glasses when you get back.”
“Okay.” She dragged her feet all the way across the floor.
Olivia waited until the door shut behind the twins before addressing Connor again. “Did I cross a line?”
“No.”
That was succinct. Straight to the point. And told her absolutely nothing. She pressed for more. “Would you rather I not teach the girls how to cook?”
“On the contrary.” He let out a breath that sounded as weary as he looked. “I think it’s a good idea. It’s just...”
His words trailed off and he rubbed a hand over his face, but not before Olivia saw the inner conflict he couldn’t quite hide. “What’s wrong, Connor?”
He stared straight ahead, his expression closed. He appeared deep in thought, visibly debating something within himself. “You and I haven’t discussed your specific job duties.”
No, they hadn’t. But that wasn’t what had him looking as if she’d punched him in the chest. “I assumed my filling in for Carlotta would include meals, light housekeeping and—”
“You don’t have to clean my house.”
She jumped at his abrupt tone.
“I’ll hire a service for that,” he added more softly, almost apologetically.
“Connor, what is this really about?”
