With a roll of his eyes, he left her on the porch and proceeded to retrieve the heels. Instead of handing them to her, he threw the muddied Pradas without care on his front porch. She took a step toward them, but he called out, "Get them later. You're not bringing that mess into my house."
Prada deserved better care. She inhaled to not make a scene, and then handed him the small cup of coffee. His eyebrows arched. She nodded at him, and he stared at the drink in his hands, his cheeks reddening. "Thank you."
Good. Surprise elements of kindness used to score her points with him, and it seemed it still worked. She sucked in her breath and tried to keep the conversation light as they walked through the door. The house was different than his mother's country style. With no paintings or floral accents, Colt went minimalistic and modern. "Where do you parents live these days?"
As he took a few steps closer, he lowered his gaze. "In a condo on the beach and Los Olas, but they are looking for something with senior activities. Mom and Dad need to relax, and gave me the place to raise Clara in a home."
The air smelled of oak trees and oranges again. He came closer to her, inches from her face, and she stepped away. The overwhelming sense of home invaded her every muscle.
Without a word, he passed her and walked into the kitchen area to turn on the sink. She pursed her lips, and he lifted his hands to show the mud on him. Then he washed his hands, though his gaze went to her legs. She squirmed, looked down, and her nose wrinkled as she realized her legs had the same mud. His brown eyes that stared at her left her breathless until he turned off the water. Then he said, "I expected you later in the morning. Don't princesses normally sleep half the morning?"
"When you called me that in high school, you didn't sound bitter." In a fast swallow, she stopped. She closed her eyes and reminded herself to be sweet. Today would go well. She blinked and opened her eyes, but stared at the ground. He stood still, and she shrugged. "I couldn't sleep at all, Colt. Is she up?"
As he walked around the kitchen counter and came toward her, he shook his head. "No. Clara gets up at seven."
Another whiff of oranges and oak trees. She licked her lips. "Is there some place I can clean up?"
Vicki saw a spark of the gentle guy he'd been before the Marines turned him into pure muscle. "Of course. The guest bathroom is this way."
He walked with purpose. The man raised his daughter with strict rules. At the door to the bathroom, she offered him a small smile, and asked, "Can I make us breakfast, then?"
His eyes widened, and she swore she saw fright. Then he opened the door for her. "You're going to cook?"
She stayed next to him. "Yes. I can cook for myself and others."
His shrugged, though his eyes betrayed how surprised he was. "I'm terrified. Go ahead. Get started and I'll grab a fast shower. Just don't forget you're the sitter."
"Of course." She grabbed his arm as he brushed past her. He stilled, and she tilted her head. "Thank you for agreeing to this start."
She leaned closer to Colt's strong jawline. He stepped away. "Clara's stubborn as a mule when it comes to getting what she wants. Don't think of hurting my little girl."
With a smile, she raised her hand and stroked his arm. "I won't. I'm glad she has you watching out for her. Whatever lucky star she was born under didn't let her get lost."
As he jumped to get away from her touch, his face darkened. "You can thank my mother for that one. She's the one who stood up for Clara and me that day."
She opened her mouth to defend herself, but the words didn't come out. "How did your mother know?"
"She saw the birth record in the nursery. You listed me as the father."
"I don't remember much. I was half awake, half dreaming during labor. Then the doctor said…"
"You told me. I'm trying here." He nodded at her. "You start breakfast. I'll bring Clara down. Remember our deal."
At least his mother hadn't done as Mitch Morgan intended. She mirrored his gesture and nodded. "I'm the nanny."
"Right." He walked away, and she stiffened her spine. She needed to steel her courage. Then she rushed into the bathroom to clean her legs. The mud was not a good first impression for her daughter.
A few minutes later, she ran into the kitchen, dropped her pocketbook on the counter, and headed straight for the refrigerator.
She heard his footsteps on the other side of his ranch house, but she didn't say a word. She gazed up at the loft, and wondered if he used that room as some sort of office.
Vicki took a quick glance at the clock; she had twenty minutes to prepare a feast. She found the potatoes and cut. Her jitters disappeared as she sliced. Her daughter deserved a good, healthy breakfast, and Vicki had been cooking breakfast for years now.
Ease returned to her shoulders. She chopped, and noticed the gorgeous brunette in the picture with Colt on the wall. The woman could be a movie star with those steely blue eyes.
The woman had height and muscles without being at all manly. With another swallow, Vicki assumed she must have been in the Marines, or a farmer, like Colt's family, to have won his heart. It wasn't the same woman from the pictures she was given years ago to prove that Colt would never love her.
A pain ran through her chest, but Vicki shrugged it off. She returned to the stove, shook her head, and stared in the mirror at her short blonde hair. She'd never be good at camping, never mind shooting anything.
Colt would marry someone capable of being in his life. She'd never be any competition for capable. She played music and designed wedding dresses, not fed horses.
With one more check on the pre-made biscuits, as she didn't have time or the ingredients to do it from scratch, Vicki shook off her wayward thoughts. The coldness inside her wasn't good. Colt had every right to get married. He was a hero.
Perhaps she'd find a way to be happy now that Clara was in her life. She'd come here for her daughter, not Colt. No fantasies and what-if questions. With a forced smile, she used her spatula and turned the potatoes in the oil, happy with the dark brown color. Good. Her cheeks no longer burned, either.
"Are you my mother?"
Vicki spun around, surprised, and gazed down at the blonde, blue-eyed angel in her pink cotton pajamas. Vicki almost fell over, as her arms ached to hug her and never let go. Instead she stared into the eyes of her little girl and glued her lips together. If she answered, she'd say yes. Instead she reached out and petted the girl's soft and fine hair. "Are you okay, sweetie?"
She nodded, though she didn't seem sure.
Vicki pressed her free hand hard against the kitchen counter. It took all her energy not to hold on to the girl for dear life and not let go.
"I think you are my mother." Clara beamed at her. "Were you at war, like Daddy?"
Vicki shook her head, let go of the counter, and went down to her knees. Her arms tried to swing around her baby, but she pressed her shoulder on the counter wall. "No, sweetheart. I'm Victoria, but please call me Vicki. I'm your new nanny."
Her daughter's eyes narrowed like Colt's. Vicki stilled as her daughter asked, "Are you sure?"
Vicki nodded faster. "I'm Victoria Morgan. And you?"
Clara twirled and giggled. "Clara Collins. You related to Uncle John and Uncle Peter?"
"Yes." A smile broke out on Vicki's face. "They are my brothers."
Clara's eyebrows squished together like Colt's had back in math class. Her chin lifted and she said, "At Aunt Alice's, I asked Daddy if you were my mommy, and he didn't say no."
Vicki froze. Every cell in her body wanted to tell the truth. Colt would throw her out if she said too much, too soon, but that wasn't enough. With time, they'd have to build trust and work together. Vicki's mind raced, but then, with a wide-eyed grin, she answered, "Your dad was surprised to see me again. We knew each other from childhood, and the last time we talked, we had a big fight. We talked everything out now like adults, and we're friends again."
The girl came closer, placed her warm, soft hands on Vicki's face,
and stared. "I hope you stay. I like you better than Belle."
Then, before Vicki could ask her what she meant, the girl reached out with her small arms and hugged her. Her tiny body pressed close, and all Vicki could smell was peaches as she hugged her daughter back. Her hug was like heaven. Clara was perfect. Vicki closed her eyes and inhaled again.
Unsure what to say and to not break the hug, Vicki squeezed tighter. Her body screamed that she held her little girl now, and it was like she'd entered a different world. Her brain heard Colt's feet pounding behind her, but she couldn't stop.
Clara giggled and broke their hug. Vicki gazed at her in wonder. Her legs were shaky as she tried to stand.
Vicki's mind screamed to claim her place in the girl's life right now, and if this arrangement failed, she'd do whatever she could. Clara deserved a mother. Vicki knew what it was like to grow up without one.
Clara went to her father and tugged on his pant leg until he leaned down to her, and then they both whispered. Colt had an enormous smile, and Clara giggled.
Vicki straightened her skirt, and then her lips parted as she stared at the stovetop across from her. The food was burning. A gasp came out of her mouth as she ran toward the oven. Colt beat her there, and he grabbed a glove for the oven. She swallowed as her heart raced. He drained the oil out of the pan and dropped the blackish potatoes on a plate. He shook his head, a smile on his face. "I knew you'd burn breakfast."
She placed her hand on her hip to say something, but then stepped toward the oven. Her biscuits were too dark, and she cringed. "The biscuits are a little too brown, but we'll just scrape that part off."
Clara went and took a seat at the table, but Colt stood there and laughed.
"How do you know Miss Vicki, Dad?"
He continued to laugh. "She was Aunt Alice's friend when she was a girl."
"I told you, Clara." Vicki laughed as Colt placed the frying pan on the counter and continued to smile.
Clara said, "Doesn't mean she's not my mommy. No one said no."
Vicki pressed her lips together as they both stopped laughing. One day, Colt wouldn't know how to stop the boys that came to the front door. Their gazes met, and then he nodded to his daughter. "Vicki's your new nanny for now, sweetheart."
Clara's gaze searched the room as she asked, "So what's in your bag? Toys?"
Vicki couldn't believe that she was so easily distracted.
Clara walked and jumped up to the counter to look at the bag.
"That's mostly pictures and things I intended to show your father later." Vicki met his stare, and he stopped laughing. She swallowed, and then took the plates over to the table. "Let's just eat."
Colt followed with the rest of the plates. "Your new nanny and I are friends, Clara. She's here to play with you today, but she'll tell me everything if the schemes get out of hand."
Vicki shook her head at Clara, and her daughter winked.
"Pictures are boring."
Vicki took a seat at the table, smiled, and her heart beat fastened. She scooted her seat toward Clara, as Colt set down the plates. Her daughter smiled as Colt added food to her plate. "What are we playing today?"
What child games did she know? Vicki cringed until an idea hit. She hoped to fill her daughter in on as much as possible of her life. "I make and design wedding dresses now for a living. I also play a few instruments. I was always good at art and coloring."
"I want to learn how to make pretty dresses." Clara's voice went up an octave. "Vicki is already cooler than Belle."
Colt dropped his fork onto his plate. "Hey now."
Vicki coughed and deflected their attention. "What are you good at, angel? We can play whatever you want."
Colt stood and went back into the kitchen. "I need another spoon."
Clara had her father's devil-may-care smile. "Riding my horse."
"Not today, sweetheart. It's supposed to rain," Colt said from across the room. "Inside games."
His daughter's shoulders shook, and then she whined, "I know you said that, but—"
Vicki saw how both of them understood where to push and where to stop. She kept her hands in her lap.
Colt poured small glasses of juice and carried them to the table. He pushed a glass at Clara. "No buts."
Then he handed Vicki a glass.
Clara's mouth opened, and Vicki knew she'd argue. So instead, Vicki asked, "It's supposed to rain?"
His eyebrows lifted. "Remnants of a hurricane that the mountains in Puerto Rico broke up. Don't you pay attention to the weather?"
With a shrug, she sighed. "No. The news is boring, and someone usually mentions a hurricane. Besides, it's hot and sunny in Florida every day."
He stared at her, then shook his head and found the silverware. "My oranges need the water."
Need was a word she'd not use near Colt. She sipped her juice and then placed the glass on the table. "So it's a bad rain today. I understand. I'm up for any inside games that Clara wants to do."
Colt nodded as he slid into his seat.
Clara crossed her arms. Then she let them go and smiled. "Daddy, Vicki is prettier than Belle, and nicer. And I still think she's really my mommy."
Without a word, Colt gulped his orange juice and swallowed. Vicki stared at his Adam's apple. Then he tilted his head at his daughter. "Hey now, kiddo. Be nice. You've only met Belle twice, and both times we were in a hurry. Lay off until you get to know her. She'll be here in a few days."
With a scowl, Clara moved the fork and knife together to one side of her glass, with well-trained manners. "I don't want a stepmother. I want my mommy."
Vicki's heart raced. Clara had her mother, though she stayed silent. She'd missed so much of her daughter. Then Colt told them both, "I want to marry a woman who loves me."
Heroes like Colt deserved love.
Clara crossed her arms and argued with her dad. "You don't make sense. I don't need a stepmom when I just found my real mom."
Vicki refused to miss another moment. She set her jaw. "You're getting two women, not one, Clara. I'm not going anywhere now that I am here, and Colt has every right to marry Belle."
"So you are my mother." Clara's eyes brightened, like she'd won.
"Stop." Colt dropped the plate in front of their daughter. "Eat your breakfast and play nice. Vicki's my friend, but she's your nanny for the next few weeks. Then Belle will be your stepmother, and everything will be fine."
Clara flashed Vicki that devilish smile.
Vicki said, "Tell your dad that you love him."
Clara's mouth opened, but she did as she was asked. "I love you, Daddy."
Vicki's heart grew warm in her chest. She sat here and wondered if this was what a real family was like. If so, she approved.
A bolt of lightning shot in the ominous sky. Then the wind played with her hair. The hurricane remnants were more like an oncoming major storm.
Vicki wiped her hands on her skirt, then helped her daughter off the swing. Raindrops pelted them, but she held Clara's hand and ushered her inside the ranch. The storm would be bad soon. As they neared the door, Vicki hoped Colt was home. She led them into the house. As she closed the porch door, thunder boomed in the air, and they jumped up the last step.
Clara's face went white.
Vicki reached down and brushed her wet hair as she told Clara, "Let's check the weather online, sweetheart."
"Dad said rain."
"He did. So far, he's right." Vicki's gut said more. She stayed quiet and unlocked the door to the house. The wind raced, and rattled the door open in a gust of wind.
Something was definitely off. Living in the summer of Florida, the storms could be torrential and fast and powerful. But a microburst of wind mixed with the warm waters of the ocean, and a hurricane could restrengthen to a full-blown storm with the right ocean temperatures in the gulf. Vicki led Clara to the living area and away from all windows.
Clara shook her head then took off in a run down the hall. Vicki followed, and Clara r
ushed straight to her bedroom. Vicki stayed on her heels and asked as the girl opened her closet, "What's happening?"
The lights flickered. Clara she crawled further into her closet. "I want to get something. Give me a few minutes."
"Okay." They were at her home, but goosebumps grew on Vicki's arms. Right now it was only rain. From the door, Vicki called out to Clara's feet, which were all she could see. "I'm checking the computer for the storm. I'll need a minute."
Clara crawled out and then sat on the floor with a doll.
Vicki told her stiff shoulders to relax as she walked into the living area and grabbed her phone in her bag.
With her phone in hand, she flew toward Clara but waited in the hall outside her baby girl's room. Clara had settled on the floor with a few dolls and played silently. Vicki's breath hitched for a few seconds as she stared at her little girl. Colt's house was built to code to withstand a hurricane after Andrew, yet Vicki's skin felt electric. She glanced at her phone, clicked a few places to get to the weather, and inhaled as she read exactly what she'd feared. The storm had grown into a category five hurricane. In her life she had never lived through one that strong. Andrew had wiped out Homestead back in 1992, and she was in the epicenter of that destruction.
No. Superstition said a hurricane didn't hit the same place twice. Vicki knew she held on to hogwash theories, but it was all she had.
She stepped in the room and almost tripped over a doll. The toy squeaked, and she struggled to keep her balance. Then she stared at the windows. They were in serious danger. She rushed out the door and called into Clara's room, "Sweetheart, I'm going to go outside and close the shutters. Stay here."
"Okay." Without a blink at her, Clara moved her doll like they were having a private conversation.
Where was Colt? Did he know the storm had changed? She grabbed her purse and dialed his number. No one answered.
Vicki gulped and ran outside, and the wind hit her so hard in the face that the brutal force slapped her. She clenched her jaw and ran to the side of the house. The wind tossed her hair into her eyes and she couldn't see, but she reached for the shutters. Then she accidentally bumped into a large, muscular shoulder.
[House of Morgan 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set Page 24
