“You heard the little lady,” Finn said with a wink, a shrug, and a smile. “She’s made her demands known.”
“Are you sure, honey?” Callie asked Wendy. She tried to ignore the shiver of pleasure it gave her to hear Finn say that he wanted her to stay. She tried to tell herself that he’d only said it because of Wendy, only for his daughter’s benefit. When the memory of his hand, his thumb running lightly up and down the small of her back, threatened to infiltrate her thoughts, she pushed it aside roughly.
“Really, really sure,” Wendy answered, nodding vigorously. “I still need your help.”
“Help?” Callie asked, cocking her head to one side. “What do you need help with, sweetie?”
“I want you to name one. Can you help me pick the names?”
Callie would have been less surprised if Wendy had spontaneously sprouted wings and taken flight. Naming animals was for Wendy. It was something she had shared with her mother. Callie could hardly believe that the little girl would want to share such a duty, and even more sure that Finn would hate the idea. When she looked at him for help, though, he was smiling.
“Finn?” Callie said softly, not sure if it was the beginning of a question or a statement.
“Go on,” he answered gently, “if you want to, that is. I think she’s right. I think it should be the two of you.”
With his permission under her belt, Callie and Wendy set to the task of naming the unexpected twins. As they deliberated, the foals went about the business of familiarizing themselves with the grand new world. For animals barely born, Callie was astonished by their tenacity. After trying on several sets of names, she and Wendy finally lighted upon the perfect pair.
“So that’s it then, yes?” Callie laughed. “No more deliberating?”
“Nope!” Wendy agreed decisively. “Chip and Dale. Just like in the cartoons! Do you like it, Daddy?”
“Love it,” he confirmed. “Couldn’t have thought of anything that good on my own. You want to run on inside, call Grandma and tell her? I think it’s probably not too early now.”
“I can take her in if you want,” Callie offered. She didn’t want to go, not really, but it was her job to look after Wendy. It was a job that she loved, too, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a thrill of excitement when Finn shook his head.
“Not quite yet, okay? I want to talk to you for a minute. Is that okay with you, Wendy?”
“Yup!” she shouted, already racing toward the barn doors at full speed.
Callie and Finn both watched her go in silence, each of them with a smile on their faces. It wasn’t until she was long gone and well out of earshot that Finn cleared his throat. Callie had come to realize the throat-clearing business meant he was going to start talking, and all of a sudden, she was a bundle of nerves.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, fidgeting with the strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail in all of the excitement, “Did I—?”
It was a question that was never finished, let alone answered. Because this time, instead of speaking, Finn closed the small amount of distance between them in two steps, sliding his hands up the side of her face. He never broke eye contact with her, not until his face was so close to her that she couldn't tell where she ended and he began. He kissed her, the kiss tasting like salt and spice. She froze for a moment, too surprised to do anything at all, and then she kissed him back, her hands moving reflexively up to his sweaty tumble of hair. When he finally broke away, she felt hot and cold all over. She knew in that moment that this wasn't the kind of thing she could have just once. She had never been the addictive type, but she thought she was going to have to make an exception for Finn's kisses. She didn't think she had much of a choice in the matter.
“I’m not sure if I should be apologizing right now,” Finn said, his voice low and husky. “I only know I don’t want to. I’ve been thinking about doing that since last night.”
“Me, too,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. Her chest rose and fell, each beat of her heart crying out for her to kiss him again.
“I wanted to do it last night,” he continued, his eyes burning holes into her, “I wanted to do it in the bar, right in front of all of those people. I’ve been regretting it ever since. I’m just not…”
“Interested in doing something like that in public,” she finished for him. It wasn’t the thing a girl wanted to hear, but she understood it. He had every right to his privacy.
"Is it okay?" he asked. Whether he was asking about the kiss or the need to keep it private, she didn't know, but she answered all of it with one small confirmation.
“Yes, Finn. It’s okay. As long as you promise you’ll do it again.”
Eleven
After the foals were born, Wendy, Finn, and Callie fell into a certain kind of rhythm. The growing pains that were natural in new living arrangements fell away as they came to know each other. It was the little things, something Callie liked to remind Finn every chance she got, that made it feel like the three of them were turning into their own little unit. It was the way she and Wendy set the table together while Finn grilled steaks on the stovetop. It was the way Callie and Finn tag-teamed bedtime, her taking bath time while he was sure to come in to say goodnight and would sometimes stay long enough to hear part of the story Callie would read. They didn’t have to discuss the details, either. They simply fell into step, walking through the days together.
Callie hadn't felt anything like it since her own little family had revolved almost entirely around her as a child. Having been diagnosed at a young age with a birth defect, her parents treated her like an injured sparrow, too feeble to fly on her own. Despite that, she had fond memories of her parents caring for her. In so many ways, this was better. As a child, sickly and sheltered, she had felt like an outsider more often than she liked to admit. Callie's parents, with their diligent love and fear, had made her feel like some sort of breakable thing. Either that or an alien. With Finn, though, the feeling couldn't have been more different. It seemed she could do no wrong in his eyes, and she never felt anything less than equal. These days, she never felt like a nanny, either, but rather like part of the family. Even so, a small voice in her secret heart warned her of danger, knowing the arrangement was only temporary, but she did her best to ignore it. She didn't have to worry about the future, not yet. For the moment, her world consisted of only the ranch, Wendy, and Finn.
Despite her happiness, things weren’t exactly perfect. The longer Callie spent at the ranch, the more she saw that although Finn was a good father, he was often absent. He always showed up for the things he was supposed to do, no question. If Callie marked something on a calendar, he was there. The problem was, there weren’t enough calendar events for Wendy to get the kind of attention she craved from her father. For Callie, getting Wendy that connection with Finn had become something like a physical need. She had to know that when the time finally came for her to go, both father and daughter would be taken care of.
Her solution to the problem of Finn’s availability came about by chance as so many really good ideas did. The ranch house was old, and although lovely, it had all the problems old houses carried with them. Callie was on a mission to get everything into working order, and sometimes that meant leaving little notes for Finn for help. The more notes she left, the clearer it became. If she asked him to do something, Finn was going to do it. He would make time, regardless how busy he might be with other things. She started creating to-do lists for him, anything and everything she could think up that would have him spending time with his daughter. Whether it was pretending she couldn’t build a birdhouse or that she needed his help teaching Wendy how to paint a dollhouse, she asked for him, and he came.
“It’s a wonder he hasn’t figured out that a teacher should know how to do all those things,” she laughed to herself while drying the dishes.
She was watching out of the kitchen window for Finn to return from the barn. Her latest scheme was a quick drive
into town to fetch some watercolors she had ordered. She would beg off the trip, asking him to take Wendy instead so that Callie could have some time to catch up on laundry. She had already ordered the paints, which she really did need, and that would leave the two of them time just to enjoy themselves. In Callie's daydream, once the errand was done, Finn and Wendy would find their way to the ice cream parlor and maybe even make a day of it.
“Except he has to come back to the house first,” she said, frowning to herself as she put the last plate in its place, “and he’s taking too darn long to do it.”
She crept up the stairs quietly, looking in on Wendy to make sure she was still napping peacefully. The little girl was properly tuckered out after a morning of math games followed by a lively stuffed animal tea party, and she was out like a light. Smiling to herself, Callie crept back down the stairs and eased herself out onto the front porch in time to see Stacy’s car pulling up.
“Well, hey there, sugar!” Wendy’s grandmother called happily, waving a hand for good measure. “If it isn’t my favorite nanny!”
“That’s very flattering, Stacy,” Callie laughed, “although I feel it’s my duty to remind you that I’m your only nanny.”
“Psh, that means nothing,” Stacy waved her off, “I don’t care if there were a thousand nannies. You would still be my favorite. Now, tell me where you’re headed.”
"I was going to run down to the barn and check on Finn…he hasn't come back to the house, and I was hoping he could run into town and pick something up for me. I was actually kind of hoping I could get him to make a daddy-daughter date out of it," she added sheepishly.
“Aren’t you a devious little thing?” Stacy laughed loudly. “I love it! I don’t know if that’s going to work today, though. Baseball, remember?”
“Ugh, right,” Callie said, hoping she didn’t look as disappointed as she felt. “Another day then.”
"For that, probably, but go on and check on him," Stacy said, a twinkle in her eye that Callie chose to ignore. "He needs to get his butt back up here, or he's going to miss his game, and the rest of us will pay for it with his grumbling."
Callie nodded and started down the steps, happy to go now that there would be someone in the house to look after Wendy. She pulled at the hairband that lived on her wrist as she hurried along, trying not to let herself get excited. She had to do that more and more lately, remind herself that this was a job, not a chance for her to fantasize about a crush. She was too old for such things, and it wasn’t going to go anywhere in the end. She told herself these same things every time she knew she was going to see him, willing herself to be practical, for God’s sake, but it seemed the warnings never really took hold. By the time she got to the barn door, her heart was beating almost as hard as it had when he had kissed her the first time. Before Finn, she had never known that a man could have that effect on her so consistently. None of the guys she had dated had ever made her feel the way Finn did, not even once. She couldn’t help wondering if he had any idea what kind of effect he had on her.
“Oh!” she stopped short in the door, her eyes going wide and her hands flying up to her face. She didn’t want to laugh at him, not really, it was just that she couldn’t help herself. She had seen a lot of things since moving to the ranch, things she’d never expected to see, but not even the foaling had quite the same shock value as what she was looking at now.
“Oh is right,” Finn grumbled. “Oh yourself. I’m not sure I want an audience for this particular debacle.”
“Oh, Finn,” Callie laughed helplessly, trying to process what she was really seeing. “What happened?”
“I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you, sweetheart,” he grimaced. “I’m kind of covered in shit here. I don’t like to use that kind of language, especially not around a lady, but sometimes you’ve just got to call it what it is. As you can see…” He held his arms out from his sides as if to showcase his awful state.
And awful it most certainly was. Callie stood laughing helplessly, looking at a man covered practically head to toe in an unsettling mixture of excrement and other debris. Next to him was the offending pile that had delivered the blow. From what Callie could make out, it looked as if he had just about finished mucking the stalls when the ever-growing pile had toppled over. Unfortunately for him, he had been in the path of destruction, and now, here they were. Not only was he going to have to clean everything up again, he was going to have to do it covered in filth.
“All right, all right,” he grumbled, looking down at himself in disgust, “you’ve had your fun, and I’m not sure I want an audience for this one. Why don’t you go on back to the house? And just so you know, I wouldn’t mind it if there happened to be a beer waiting for me when I finally make it back to the house and out of the shower. Nothing in the world sounds better than that right now.”
“Are you kidding?” she said, pulling her trusty hair tie off her wrist and throwing her hair up into a tight, practical bun. “No way am I going to leave you in the lurch like that.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, finally losing his disgruntled expression in exchange for comical surprise.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked, marching into the heart of the disaster. “I’m going to help.”
Thirty minutes and much mess later, Callie and Finn finally had things looking the way they were supposed to. By the end, Callie was every bit as muck-covered as Finn. A quick once-over of both her clothing and Finn’s told her that likely no amount of laundering was going to put them right again. They were going to need to be written off as casualties of the war against muck, which in the end, was fine by her. She had never been a clothes horse, and the longer she spent at the Henry ranch, the less she found herself caring about that kind of thing. Her only real concern was how they were going to get themselves back into the house without tracking the mess all over the gleaming hardwood floors.
“Good Lord, you look as bad as I do,” Finn laughed, giving voice to precisely what she was thinking. “No way we’re going into the house like this. Wendy will never let us live it down!”
“No,” Callie agreed, “probably not. And I suspect we’d give poor Stacy a heart attack. I don’t care how much experience a person has with the ranching life. You will never convince me that a person could get used to seeing something like…this.”
Finn shook his head, his expression somber, before busting out laughing. Callie poked out her bottom lip, then started laughing right along with him.
“Don’t worry about a thing, jellybean,” he told her when he had his laughter under control. “I’ve got some coveralls that will do the trick in a pinch. I want to do something first, though, which means I’m going to need you to come with me.”
“Come with you where?” Callie asked, motioning to her ruined clothes, just in case he had already forgotten that she was in no state to be going anywhere. “I’m not exactly fit to be seen.”
"No need to worry about that. You're not going to be seen by anybody. Nobody but me, that is."
Without providing any other information, giving her the impression he was positively reveling in his self-created mystery, he headed toward the barn door and away from the house. Giving herself one last looking over and rolling her eyes at the mess she saw, she hurried to follow. He led her down what passed for a pathway through the long, tall grass of the field beside the barn. Some people liked to keep that kind of thing mowed so short that the dark earth showed beneath stubby blades, but Finn let his grow wild. Callie loved it, loved the little wildflowers peppering the green and the way the whole thing looked like an ocean when it waved in the afternoon breeze.
She’d been on the ranch for at least a month now, but she’d explored far less of Finn’s land than she would have liked, and she was all eyes as they breached the sea of grass in favor of a little patch of trees. She didn’t even mind the way she smelled from the sun baking the filth on her clothes. All she could care about was the shocking beauty of
the land around her. That, and the solid, muscular frame of Finn leading her along.
“There we go,” he said after he had led them a little farther. “That’s what we were coming for. Have you seen this yet? I’m not sure you have.”
“No,” she sighed. “I would definitely remember.”
He had led the two of them to a creek, one Callie hadn't known was on the land at all. The breeze rippled its surface as a large white bird took flight, hooting loudly to let them know its displeasure at being so rudely interrupted. Callie was overcome with the beauty of her surroundings. As she was spending some of her summertime getting into using her watercolors, she made a mental note to come back to this place and paint it. She turned her attention to Finn, wanting to ask him to help her remember, but all that came out was a little squeak.
“What’s the matter, Callie? Did I shock you? You can say it. Won’t hurt my feelings any.”
“No,” she stammered, suddenly unsure what she should do with her eyes or her hands. “I wouldn’t say I’m shocked, exactly. A little surprised, maybe? I...oh, I don’t know. You’re putting me on the spot!”
He laughed, turning his face up to the sun and closing his eyes. In that moment, he looked perfectly happy, not to mention like a Greek god. Both his flannel shirt and his undershirt were lying on the bank of the creek where he’d tossed them. His tanned upper body shone in the sun, the light catching in the downy hair and reflecting there. Callie wanted to play this like it was no big deal, like she had seen this kind of thing before, but she was pretty sure she was failing miserably. Because she hadn't seen anything close to this before. She’d seen men, but none of them even compared to the chiseled figure of Finn, shirtless. She thought to herself that she could probably die and be happy having seen this—and that’s when his hands moved down to his belt.
“Finn,” she asked, breathless and reeling, “what are you doing?”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, answering without really answering her question, “if you’ll promise not to tell.”
The Rancher’s Unexpected Nanny Page 9
