Rancher Daddy: A Single Dad & Nanny Romance

by Lexi Whitlow

  “You don’t know shit about taking orders,” Maddox says, a hard edge in his voice. “I took orders for six and a half years. When I was in Afghanistan, there were nights I didn’t know if I was going to die. Or if I’d have to watch someone else die. I didn’t have a choice. I had to fall in line.

  “Sometimes you have to follow orders so you can stay safe. I don’t love your parents, Avery. God knows I don’t. But with the election and all the talk of your mom running for president next term, you need protection. It’s past time for it.”

  I don't look at him but I can feel my heart pounding. I hate feeling like he’s right. There was always that sense of rightness about him, even when we were both kids. Like he had some part of life figured out that I hadn’t. I’m not sure if it came from the way he grew up, but it was always there. I hate that he makes sense. And I hate even more that everything in me wants to rebel against him and cut him down.

  “I’m an adult,” I repeat. “And I don’t want to be forced to my mother’s events.”

  “You can’t show up for what your mom does? Because—what? It’s boring? Or is it just to piss her off?”

  I scowl. It’s deeper than that, but Maddox doesn’t have the look of someone who wants to listen to that right now.

  “You need protection,” he continues. “Go look at yourself in the mirror if you disagree.”

  I bite my lip, and then I respond. “You had your years in the military. I don’t know anything about that. My private hell isn’t anything like yours, but I still live in it. My parents drop by the apartment. They show up at school. They do background checks on any guy I date. And when I finally get hurt, all they can do is think about how I look on camera.”

  “Poor little rich girl,” he says. His voice is flat, and it’s impossible to get a read on the emotion behind his voice.

  He looks at me coolly, and a lump forms in my throat. My eyes prickle, and there are tears. I don’t know this Maddox, the one who calls me names and informs me that he’s going to do everything my parents wish.

  “You need to go,” I say. My voice is hoarse from holding back the crying.

  “I don’t want to be here anyway. I can keep an eye on you today from where I live. But if you try to leave, I’ll be appearing right back at your doorstep. You need to eat. You need to sleep. And you need to rest. Nothing else.”

  Maddox stands up and turns, heading for the door.

  I muster up all the anger inside, turning towards him. There won’t be any more dreams. Not if I can help it.

  The door closes with an unsatisfying thud. I walk to the window and watch him as he crosses the street.

  When he’s inside, it’s clear that his apartment directly faces mine. The window looks into my living room. Before I have a second to think, he goes to his own window and gives a wave in my direction. Knowing my parents, he has orders to watch me whenever and however he can.

  This is why I never wanted a bodyguard.

  Teenage me would have thought this was sexy. I dreamed of Maddox watching me every day.

  But that was then. This is now. I’m older, angrier, and ready to fight.

  Fine. If he wants to follow every order my parents lay out for him, there’s no way I’m going to make this easy.

  Game on, Maddox.

  You can follow the rules.

  I’ll be busy breaking them.

  Chapter Five

  Maddox

  I pace the apartment floor. It’s hardwood. The kitchen appliances all work. Yes, everything is blue, as Avery warned. But it’s the nicest place I ever lived.

  I sent my mother pictures this morning, and she responded with a smiley face. Her own apartment looks like this now. And she’s going to live, thanks to Avery’s parents.

  Still, there’s a growing pit of anxiety in my stomach. Avery Thomas might be a poor little rich girl, but she’s right. She’s a grown woman, and her parents don’t need to watch her every move.

  And I don’t need to be the one doing it.

  Still, I’m bracing for a fight. I hate feeling that way, but I could tell Avery was digging in. I am too.

  The next morning, I go to the window and check on her. I do it a little guiltily, but there’s nothing too private she’d be doing in her living room. Plus, it’s in the nineteen-page document her mother gave me when I started the position a week ago.

  Check on Avery’s movements in the apartment each morning. Make sure she’s making a healthy breakfast for herself. She should have no more than one cup of coffee, with two ounces of non-fat creamer. Although it may not be in your power, her father and I would like for her to maintain her weight or drop five pounds before the foundation dinner.

  My stomach turns when I think of it. No wonder Avery is defensive.

  I look through the binoculars I have on the window frame. Sure enough, Avery is inside, making coffee. She dumps at least half a cup of full fat cream into it, and I snicker. There’s no way I’m following that rule.

  And she heads straight for the window. Fuck.

  Before I can put the binoculars down, Avery is standing there with an angry, determined expression on her face. The same way she got when she first started thinking about leaving town, leaving California altogether. Back when we were kids.

  She moves a chair to the window and drinks her coffee. When she’s finished, she unbuttons the top two buttons of her blouse, revealing the creamy tops of her breasts.

  Shit. Against my better judgment, I don’t put the binoculars down. Instead, I watch as she takes off her shirt directly in front of the window. She slips on a dress and shimmies out of the skirt she was wearing, throwing it at the window.

  Before turning away, she faces the window head-on, smirks, and slowly raises both of her middle fingers in salute.

  She flounces away and disappears into the dark recesses of her apartment, where I can’t see her. Just as I put the binoculars down, my phone buzzes.

  Avery Thomas:

  You’re a creeper, just like my fucking stalker. Leave me alone today, and I’ll tell my mom you stayed on my ass all day.

  “This fucking woman,” I mutter to myself. I can’t get the image of her out of my mind. Round tits, full and high and barely contained in her white, lacy bra. I know Avery is no longer a virgin, but I imagine her that way. Pure. Innocent. Untouched.

  In the battle of wills between myself and Avery, there’s one weapon for which I have very little defense. Her body.

  And she’s made me look like an asshole. I should have turned away. Instead, I stayed glued to the window, and there’s a growing feeling of tightness in my cock. I half-consider jacking off again, just to relieve the tension. But I need to keep eyes on Avery, no matter what she says.

  I whip out my phone and type quickly.

  Maddox Bryant:

  Fat chance. Tell me where you’re going.

  For a minute or more, there’s no response. I look out of the window with my binoculars again and see no trace of her in the apartment. I look down to the lobby, and there is no evidence of anyone coming or going. Her car is in the underground lot, and I could go over to that exit and wait for her. I’m about to head for the front of the building when I think better of it.

  A few minutes later, Avery emerges from a side street, riding her beach cruiser bike, headed straight for campus.

  I hadn’t thought an injured woman would climb down her fire escape to the street below, but Avery isn’t the average woman.

  Clever girl. Not clever enough.

  I bolt down the stairs to the motorcycle Avery’s parents gave me for the job, and I catch up to her easily. It takes a minute for her to notice me. I nod at her. She gives me the finger.

  When we arrive on campus, Avery parks her bike, ignoring me while she fiddles with her lock. I park nearby, watching her. She’s still a little unsteady on her feet, but she has her laptop bag slung over one shoulder, and she appears determined to make it into a classroom before the end of the term.

  S
he doesn’t turn to check where I am before she marches off to class, her bag bouncing against one perfectly sculpted hip. I catch up to her easily and grab her by the arm. Not so hard that I could hurt her, but hard enough that she can’t exactly run away.

  “Avery, you’re supposed to stay at home. For the next week.”

  “Let go of me,” she hisses. Her icy gaze meets mine. “Don’t you get it? I want to be here. This is what I do with my life. I want to be left alone and write my dissertation. Graduate. Have a life that doesn’t involve my parents.”

  “Avery. You’re hurt. You’re still limping. What they’re asking is just that you take time to heal. Everything is worked out so you don’t have to go to school right now.”

  “They’re taking everything away from me until this election is over. I just want this one thing. Just until school is over. Or is that prohibited in your contract?”

  My expression goes blank.

  “Oh, you don’t think I know about whatever contract they made with you? I have my own little booklet of where I’m supposed to be and how I’m supposed to behave. My mom wrote one for my dad too, and one for his personal security detail. They live for this kind of thing. You know, they tried to get me to take a bodyguard seven different times in the past year? I know what they do. Remember that. You’re just learning.” She takes her free hand and uses a manicured finger to poke me straight in the chest.

  “I’m fairly familiar with their style, Avery. But they’re right about this. You need to be on your sofa, watching Netflix, Avery.”

  “I’m not a child,” she says, trying to pull away again. People are beginning to notice us, but no one says anything. Everyone knows who Avery Thomas is, and it’s clear enough that I’m her new bodyguard.

  “Then don’t act like one,” I say. “Act like an adult who’s just spent four days in the hospital. And fucking take care of yourself.”

  My heart is beating hard now. This is as close as I’ve been to Avery in seven years. Her hair still smells faintly of ginger, and her skin is warm and supple and soft. Even with the fading wound across her forehead, she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Maddox,” she says, “I’m going to class. Then I’ll sit around the entire rest of the day. Deal?”

  I nod. Finally, I let her pull her arm away. She walks towards one of the lecture halls, and I begin to follow her.

  She whips around. “No. You do not get to follow me inside. That's one step too far. These are my friends and teachers. I don't want them to start looking at me differently. You can wait out here."

  I pretend to consider this. "Fair enough."

  I flip through my phone and see that Avery Thomas has no classes scheduled for today.

  I knew it.

  I sit on a bench outside the lecture hall and Avery heads in. As soon as she is inside, I stand up and stroll back the way we came, arriving at the main doors just in time to see Avery ducking out of a fire exit and running back towards her bike. I can't help admiring her tenacity, she really doesn't give up. I let her get on the bike and head off before I follow her. I think it'll have more impact on her this way.

  The bike suits her. I know I shouldn't be thinking like this but it's hard not to when I'm following her on her bike, my eyes glued to the perfect curve of her ass, thrust out behind. I can't decide if this would be easier or harder if she didn't look so incredible. But I can't say I'm sorry that she looks how she does.

  She heads down a side street, and I speed up to catch her.

  Part of me knows this is dumb. I'm supposed to be protecting her and instead I'm chasing her through traffic. And I'm enjoying it. I chased Avery Thomas the last summer I was a free man. It brings back old memories. I smile.

  When I turn behind her, Avery hears me, and looks back. She rolls her eyes dramatically and turns down an alley.

  The electric feeling that I got when I saw her at the window this morning returns. I follow her, slowing down on my bike, barely puttering through the alley.

  “This is part of the job,” I say to myself. “It’s all part of the job. It’s just a bonus if you like chasing her.”

  She keeps about a quarter mile ahead of me, and I follow her. By her body language, I can tell she’s angry. Enraged. She had some plan to ditch me, maybe for the rest of the summer.

  As she hits the next corner, however, she takes it badly. The bike slips from under her and she comes off, rolling over the pavement. I scream to a halt and leap off, letting my bike crash to the ground, my heart in my mouth.

  "Avery! Are you okay?!"

  "No thanks to you!" She pulls off her helmet. Her face is pink with anger and shock. "Look at my damn bike."

  The teal beach cruiser has a bent wheel, and the seat has nearly popped off.

  "Can you walk?" I ask.

  I try to go over to her and help her up, but true to her nature, she refuses.

  She smacks my hand away and pulls herself up on her own. "Of course I can damn well walk! And now I have to walk home!"

  "I can take you,” I say. “It’ll be safer.”

  “Since when are motorcycles safe, Maddox?” The tone of her voice makes me want to grab her and shake her and kiss her violently all at once.

  I growl. “Avery, you will not make me lose this job.”

  “You will not follow my every move, then, Maddox. My parents are busy with their career. They won’t know if you let me off the leash for half a day.”

  “That’s not the point,” I say, my voice angrier than I intend.

  Without a response, Avery marches off in the direction of her apartment. The hemline of her dress is ripped, and her laptop bag is scuffed. There’s an impressive road burn on her elbow.

  “Avery,” I say, loud enough so that she turns in my direction. “I’m sorry.”

  She looks at me oddly for a second, surprised to hear the words from me.

  "You're what?"

  "I shouldn't have chased you like that. It was dangerous and stupid."

  For a moment she is silent, looking at me in that smartly appraising way of hers that I fell for all those years ago. “Yeah, it was. But I was the one on a bicycle, trying to lose you.”

  I shrug. It’s a beginning. I guess.

  “Are you okay? Is anything broken?”

  “Stop asking me that. I’m fine.”

  Back in her apartment, I keep asking her questions she finds absolutely irritating. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the tone in her voice. The one that lets me know I’m affecting her.

  That’s not on her parents list, come to think of it. I can irritate her all day long.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do?” She smirks at me as she sets up her laptop and starts tapping away, presumably working on her dissertation.

  “No, I don’t. I want to know if you’re okay. If you’re going to put any bandages on that road burn. I’ve been riding a bike for seven years, and I know what that feels like.”

  “I didn’t know that,” she says flatly.

  “Didn’t know what?” I watch her back as she types.

  “I didn’t know that you rode a motorcycle. A bike. Where I’m from, bikes have spokes and bells. And maybe a basket.” She doesn’t look at me. Instead, she continues typing. There’s something edgy, something angry in her voice.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know. It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, it has. You made sure of that when you took off and didn’t respond to a single message I sent you. And you reappear, hired to treat me like a kid and follow me around my own town.”

  “You wouldn’t need someone to do that if you just paid attention to your body. If you weren’t so unsteady on your feet, you wouldn’t have fallen today. You need to rest. And—shit—have you eaten today?”

  “Back off, man,” she says, eyes glued to her computer. “Go back to the apartment that Evelyn and Richard had outfitted for you. I bet there’s a fifty-inch TV. Or if you like motorcycles so much, you can go ride yours of
f a cliff.”

  I stare at her. I’m both angry and turned on, and I hate myself for reacting at all. This was just supposed to be a job, and here I am, wrapped up in Avery’s shit. I have to keep reminding myself she’s someone I don’t know anymore, and of course she sees me as her enemy.

  “I might just do that.”

  “Good. It might dislodge the stick in your ass.”

  I growl in frustration. “Look, your parents are paying me to make sure no harm comes to you. It’s my job. I have to follow you. We don’t know if that guy is still out there—”

  “Fuck him if he is,” she says. She’s still typing. It’s eerie how fast she’s going—and she’s still paying attention to what I’m saying. “I know what he looks like, and I can steer clear of him.”

  “That’s not how this shit works, Avery.”

  “If I die, you don’t get paid? Is that it?”

  “I’d rather not find out about that clause in the contract.”

  Avery gets up and slams her laptop closed. “Okay, Maddox. I’m going to change clothes and get the hell out of here. Turn around if you’re a prude. But it’s clear you weren’t this morning.”

  She marches across her living room and into her bedroom, where she leaves the door open as she begins to change. I turn away from her, and I suppress a shiver in my body.

  I can't have this conversation staring at her half-naked. It's bad enough knowing she's half-naked just behind me.

  I’m silent, and I wait. At least she might let me know where she’s going today.

  I feel her hand on me and she turns me round to face her, standing close as she had the night before. "I think you'll find that I can keep myself safe. If you need to tag along for your own personal gratification—or a paycheck, I guess I can live with that.”

  She’s wearing a flouncy white dress, and beneath it, what looks like a red bikini.

  I swallow hard. This was what I dreamt of every night when I was twenty. The fact that she seems to hate me makes this particularly brutal.

  “Let’s go.” She picks up a bag from the couch and looks at me, kinder now than before.

  “And where are we going?”