How to Rope a Loyal Cowboy by Anya Summers
1
One door closed, another one opened, right?
At least, that was what Morgan’s father had always intoned—up until his body had given out on him eight months ago. In the eight months since, she had lost more than she ever thought possible. She had sold off everything they owned to pay for his debt. Up until his untimely death, Morgan had believed to the depths of her soul that her pops had been honest with her, that they had been partners.
But it had all been a load of manure he had spoon fed her daily.
Partners didn’t betray one another, and family sure as shit didn’t—or at least they shouldn’t, to her mind.
Morgan had until the end of this week to move out of the house—bank’s orders. This was the house she had grown up in. It was the house she had lost him in—suddenly, unexpectedly—to a massive heart attack. And it was the place where she had discovered the depths of his betrayal. How he had hidden his gambling addiction from her. And that he was in debt to his eyeballs, and sinking fast. That the books he had handed her, with the numbers and receipts, had been pure fiction.
She had never suspected a thing.
Morgan Davies clutched the page showing the wanted ad in the Daily News. The job was an answer to her prayers. The ten dollars an hour she had been making as a grocery store clerk hadn’t been enough to keep her afloat and keep a roof over her head. Not when the insurance money had gone toward paying a small portion of her pop’s debt. No matter how valiantly she had tried to keep it all together, keep the station running and a roof over her head, her dad’s debt had just been way too substantial.
She hoped that Noah Reed hadn’t filled the position already. Everyone in Winter Park knew his boys were a pair of scamps. Morgan figured it was because they were growing up without a mother’s guiding hand.
She knew what that was like, being motherless. How it created a hole inside a person that could never truly be filled with anything.
Morgan had no clue what she would do if he had already hired someone to fill the nanny position. It was one of the few jobs in town that she was remotely qualified for, and which came with housing. Because by the end of the week, one way or the other, she would be homeless.
She didn’t have any family whom she could bunk with. Her pops had been her family, and he was gone. The terrible grief of his death had given way to rage and, finally, acceptance. Morgan had loved her pops with her whole heart. And she knew he had loved her, and had likely hidden the debt because he was ashamed of it. He had wanted to shield her from the seedier aspects of his life, like he had done ever since her mama had walked out on them when Morgan was seven. Mom left one day, and never came home.
Morgan drove her pop’s beat-up rusty red Ford truck—that was older than she was—down the twisting, winding lane on Silver Springs Ranch property. It was achingly beautiful on the ranch, with tons of wide-open spaces. Morgan had lived in town her whole life, and couldn’t help but think how magical it would be not to be able to hear your neighbors screaming at each other at all hours of the day.
Out here, she would wake to the sounds of nature, and not the honking of tourists’ horns as they bottlenecked the streets of Winter Park. She rounded the final bend and arrived at number fifteen.
Noah Reed’s home was nestled in the hills of Silver Springs, a few miles past the main part of the ranch. The secluded home was surrounded by pines, and had a stone driveway. Noah’s big black truck was parked right outside the garage, gleaming in the early morning sunlight. As Morgan parked her pop’s truck beside his in the paved driveway, she could tell he had washed it recently, as the big, black beast shone in the sun.
The house was finer than the one she had grown up in, that was for sure, and much, much bigger too. You could probably fit her house inside this one three times over. The sprawling ranch home exterior was crafted of stone, and wood that had been painted ivory. There was a generous-sized gray stone paved porch, with a cedar porch swing and couple of Adirondack chairs. Morgan could imagine sitting out in one of those chairs with a cup of coffee each morning and watching the sun rise over the mountains. Mornings were her favorite time of day. It was the time when everything could start over, fresh.
But there were also a boatload of toys scattered around the patio; huge Tonka trucks lay on their sides, Nerf guns and ammo were scattered over the ground, and a pair of small bikes with training wheels still attached leaned drunkenly against the wooden railing.
Morgan couldn’t imagine Noah having to raise two boys all by himself, and at such young ages. But he had, ever since his wife offed herself a few years ago. At least when Morgan’s dad was left to raise her on his own, she had been old enough to start to become self-sufficient.
But Noah’s wife committing suicide wasn’t her business. Morgan was here to earn her spot, landing a job that would keep her in her home town. Otherwise, she would be forced to look further afield, in places like Colorado Springs and Denver, for employment. And none of those would come with housing.
With the ad in hand and hope in her heart, Morgan climbed out of the dusky red seventy-eight truck she had inherited. It was the only thing the bank wasn’t taking, because it was fully paid off and not worth the cost of seizing it. Well, that and her clothes. But she had been forced to sell everything else. All the furniture in the house and gas station, her grandma’s wedding china and linens, the beds and mattresses, dining table and television… all of it, to pay off her pop’s debts. She’d been using a sleeping bag on the floor of her old bedroom for weeks now, trying to figure out her next step.
Morgan traversed the stairs, avoiding the bright yellow whiffle bat lying on one of the steps. It was early yet, but it was also a Sunday morning. She knew that Noah had Sundays off from working in the stables. She knew because she had called the stables to check when he would be in.
She had spent the few spare pennies she had left from working at the grocery store in town to get the dress she was wearing pressed at the cleaners, because she needed this job. She figured this dress, with its slim, elegant lines in navy blue that she had normally worn to church on Sundays, would make her look composed, and perhaps older than her twenty-three years.
Standing before the heavy dark walnut front door, she felt like she had gigantic frogs hopping around in her belly. Morgan had no idea why she was so nervous. She knew Noah. All her life, he had been coming into her pop’s gas station. But then again, she had always been fascinated by Noah, for as long as she could remember.
When she was a little girl, and he came into the station when she was there helping her pops out, he would tweak her nose or tug on her braid. Ever since high school, any time she saw him, he always made her skin feel three sizes too small.
He was older, wiser, and without a doubt one of the hottest guys she had ever seen. Not that she was going to let her hormones deter her from seeking a job with him.
Morgan rapped her knuckles on the door. She held her breath as she waited. From beyond the door, the sound of war whoops and stomping of little feet over hardwood resounded.
Noah opened the door. All her pent-up breath expelled in a rush. The man was sin personified. He looked disheveled, in a pair of jeans that were slung low around his waist—criminally low, as in, she was being treated to an unobstructed view of his defined obliques, along with the rest of his breathtakingly muscled chest covered by a smattering of dark hair. His bronze hair was ruffled, and stuck up in spots, like he had run his fingers through it a million times so far this morning.
A few days’ growth of dark scruff lined his firm, angular jaw. There was a dark-haired boy wrapped around each one of his calves—both stared up at her with bright blue eyes the color of the midday sky.
“Morgan? What are you doing here, sweetheart?” Chills suffused her at the deep bass tones in his voice. They always seemed to resonate in her chest—and further south.
At the confusion in his hazel eyes, framed by some of the longest lashes she had ever seen on a man, she pasted a smile on her face, and replied, “Answering your wanted ad in the paper.”
“You want to be a nanny? How much do you know about kids?” he asked skeptically with a raised brow. Like he expected her to say gotcha, as if it was a big prank on her part.
Truthfully, she didn’t know much about kids other than she had been one, but she would learn. What she did know was how to take care of a house, cook, do laundry, and keep the books, like she had done for her dad—even though he had hidden the real numbers from her. She squashed the white-hot anger burning through her gut over the betrayal. “Enough that I think we would get along famously. I have the required vehicle.”
It was her daddy’s seventy-eight Ford truck, but that was no big deal. It still ran fine. And there was enough room in the back seat for the boys’ car seats.
Doubt clouded Noah’s hazel eyes but he didn’t send her away. Instead he opened the door wider, moving slowly with each boy clinging to his calves. “Come on in. Sorry about the mess. We weren’t expecting company.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Relief flooded her that she had made it past the first hurdle.
He let her inside. Morgan hid her wince as she followed him through the house and into the kitchen. There were toys and piles of dirty clothes everywhere. In the kitchen, the sink was piled up with dirty dishes, and the table looked like it could use a good scrubbing.
Hell, they needed her—if only to keep them from descending into biohazard territory.
Noah grabbed a set of keys from one of the kitchen drawers, then padded through the kitchen and family room to a door that was locked.
Morgan’s brows rose at the door with the key lock. He had to lock doors around here?
“It’s so the boys won’t go in here at all. It keeps this suite clean, at least,” Noah stated, spying her skepticism and concern as he pushed the door open.
His twins scuttled off his legs and started to race into what for them was a forbidden room. “Stop right there. This is not a place for you two, and you both know it.”
The boys screeched to a halt and sent their dad mischievous grins. They knew they weren’t supposed to be in the room but would push every single boundary imaginable.
Morgan headed inside, and stopped. The room was lovely, and much larger than she had expected—enough so that there was a small seating area. There were walnut hardwood floors, with a generous-sized, plush beige rug. She could already imagine how it would feel beneath her toes first thing in the morning. The walls were a sedate taupe that she could spruce up with colorful pictures. The vaulted wooden slat ceiling sported a fan that would help diffuse the last dog days of summer as August came to a close. In the center of the room stood a king-sized bed covered with a dove gray quilt and a mound of fluffy pillows. The espresso-colored wood headboard completed the look. The furniture was a matching suite, from the twin nightstands to the chest of drawers with the mirror above it.
In one corner was a comfy leather chair and ottoman in a deep chocolate, near the sandstone fireplace with the large flatscreen television mounted above it. Morgan walked through the room, taking it all in. The walk-in closet was big enough that she could have fit her old bed inside it.
But it was the private bathroom with the deep ivory tub and separate enclosed shower with the glass door that sold her. There was also a dark gray granite countertop on the vanity, with a mirror and lots of storage space.
“What do you think?” Noah asked from the bathroom doorway, with a hand on each of his boys.
“It’s beautiful.” She wanted to pinch herself because surely, she was dreaming. The possibility that this room with the lovely furniture and gorgeous bathroom could be hers, made her want to dance in excitement.
“Let’s go have a seat in my office while the boys spend time in their playroom. That way, we can talk without little ears.”
“Sure, lead the way.” Morgan gestured, not missing the hint of command in his voice, or the way it sent a shiver through her entire being.
When they exited what she already considered her room, Noah was conscientious enough to close and lock the bedroom door.
Just how bad were his boys?
Morgan had heard stories. But she had to admit, the need to lock her door worried her some. Not enough to turn the job down, yet it was still rather unsettling.
They dropped the twins off in the playroom that was chock full of toys, and shelves full of books and more toys. “Behave for fifteen minutes while I talk with Morgan, and then we can go for your riding lesson.”
“Yay!” The boys jumped up and down in excited glee. They raced inside the room, like they couldn’t wait to play with everything inside.
Noah’s office was outfitted in all wood, from the hardwood floors to the paneling on the walls, and even the ceiling. It gave the place a stately manor house office feel. Now that it was just the two of them, the fact that all he was wearing was a pair of jeans and nothing else caused stirrings in Morgan’s girly bits.
She had to face it, the man was the sexiest single dad of her acquaintance. His form emanated power and control as he trod behind the desk and switched on a monitor on the credenza. The screen lit up and began to play video feed.
“You have cameras in the playroom?” she asked, unable to contain her surprise as she took a seat.
His office was more orderly than the rest of the house. It was still messy by her standards, but looked less like it should be declared a natural disaster.
“I have to with those two, considering I’m outnumbered. Are you really up for this? It’s okay if you’re not. They are a lot of work. They tend to be up at six every day without fail, rain or shine. They go nonstop, full out, until nightfall. And then they tend to put up a stink about going to bed, even though their eyelids are drooping from exhaustion.”
“Are you really trying to warn me off?” She cocked her head and smiled. It was kind of cute, the way he was warning her off almost.
“Look, my boys aren’t easy, and I’m the first to admit it. They have preschool during the week, followed by their riding lessons. So you would have the first part of the day—on the weekdays, at least—to take care of other things. You would be in charge of making their meals, getting their laundry done, planning activities to keep them occupied and out of trouble. I would set up an expense account for you to use at the grocery store and the like, so you can buy the groceries. It’s a ton of work, Morgan.”
“I think I can handle it.” It was all the same stuff she had done for her pops, aside from planning activities. But it was all work she was familiar with, and could do hands down. Besides, at a time when everything had changed in her life, this job and place would provide her with a sense of normalcy—along with a roof over her head.
His skepticism crystal clear, he asked, “Are you sure that you’re up for this and want to work here? It’s okay if you don’t. I won’t think less of you if you bow out.”
“Yep.” She nodded, resolute in the path before her. If she could just stop herself from staring at his kissable lips, or letting her gaze wander over the valley of his notched chest and wondering how it would feel pressed up against her torso, then they would be fine.
“When can you start?” he offered.
She kept her face impassive when on the inside, she was fist-pumping the air. “When do you want me to start?”
“Does today work for you?”
“I need to get my things, but I could be here this afternoon.” What little was left of her life was already in boxes, mostly. It wouldn’t take her long to pack them up in the truck and get them here.
“Great. You’re hired. Let’s get the paperwork out of the way first. I can pay your stipend either by direct deposit or check, whichever you would prefer. But I will need to have you fill out the tax forms too. I’ll get you a set of keys to your room, as well as the house. I do like to keep the house locked when no one is around. I’d rather not have tourists decide to make themselves at home.”
“Understandable. It sounds fantastic.”
“Well, don’t feel bad if at any point you decide it’s not for you. I won’t hold it against you.” He chuckled and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe that she really wanted the job.
But she didn’t have many options, nor did she fancy being homeless.
Besides, watching the twins all day and taking care of them couldn’t be that bad, could it?
