How to Rope a Loyal Cowboy by Anya Summers
5
Exhausted by the time he pulled into the driveway that night, Noah realized he hadn’t been counting on Morgan’s truck still being there. He’d had some supremely bad experiences, with nannies quitting willy nilly. One of them had quit in the middle of the day, while he was at work, without even telling him. She’d just dropped his boys off at the stables and left, never to return.
But at seeing the rusty old red truck that should be in a museum and not a vehicle Morgan actually drove, a weight lifted off his shoulders.
She had made it one full day. Considering he had expected to see Morgan storming out of his house to tell him she was quitting the moment he parked, he would call it a win. But when he walked inside, the first thing he noticed was that his house smelled lemon fresh instead of like a locker at the gym, packed full with dirty socks.
The second thing he noticed was that he didn’t trip over a single toy on his way to the kitchen.
He had to double check and make sure he was in the right house. Noah couldn’t remember his home ever being this clean with the boys. His place was always messy. It didn’t matter what he tried to do to keep it clean, his boys were masters at making messes.
In the kitchen, he discovered Wade and Zack at the table, plowing through whatever the hell it was Morgan had cooked. It smelled utterly divine. If it was half as good as the meatloaf last night, he would have to seriously consider giving her a raise from the start as an incentive to keep her here.
“Something smells great.”
Wade and Zack’s heads lifted, with full grins on their faces and their mouths full. The love he had for these two rascals was always a sucker punch to the gut. It was the three of them against the world—the Three Musketeers. There were parts of Sara in them. The shape of their eyes and the color, to be sure. But they also had the Reed nose and ears, and the shapes of their jaws were similar to his dad’s. He went and kissed both his boys on their foreheads.
“Have a seat. I can bring you a plate.” Morgan nodded at the unoccupied chair, looking unruffled after her day with his hellions.
It made him wonder what would ruffle her feathers when it seemed like nothing had so far. Not that he knew what had transpired today. But he knew his boys, and that if you gave them an opening for mischief, they would blaze a trail right through it.
With a sigh, he sat, curious about what she had cooked and enjoying the fact that, for once, he wasn’t making it home only to have to figure out a dinner for his boys that they would likely hate. But then, he wasn’t the greatest cook in the world. And you could only dress up hotdogs so many ways.
Morgan set a plate full of steaming lasagna and garlic bread in front of him. “Want a beer?”
“Yes. That would be great.” He watched her more than he should when she opened the fridge door and bent down to get the promised beer bottle. She had one hell of a killer ass that strained the confines of her cutoffs.
Distracting himself from the uncomfortable lust he was experiencing for Morgan with the image of taking her from behind flashing through his brain, he talked to his boys.
“Wade, Zack, how was school today?” If there was one thing Wade and Zack were other than rascals, it was chatterboxes about their day.
“Jason got really sick after music class today,” Wade said around a bite.
“Yeah, he turned ghost white and we thought he was going to die,” Zack added.
“Did he die?” Noah asked, and bit back a groan at the explosion of flavors on his tongue from the lasagna. That was it. He was keeping Morgan. He didn’t care if he had to chain her to the bed. He shifted in his seat to dislodge his sudden hard-on over the thought of chaining her to his bed and not letting her up.
Wade said, “Nope.”
“But he threw up everywhere in the classroom. They had to move us to another room,” Zack stated with glee.
“Yeah, it was super gross,” Wade added.
“What else did you guys do today?” Noah wanted to get them off the topic they were on so he could enjoy his meal.
“Morgan taught us the clean-up song,” Zack said with a cheery grin, and a smudge of marinara on his chin.
“And she got me down off the bookshelf,” Wade stated, as if it was just another everyday occurrence.
At least they were honest about their death-defying stunts. “What have I told you about climbing those bookshelves, Wade?”
“That it’s dangerous and I could die,” Wade replied glumly.
“But Morgan rescued him. She climbed up and got him down,” Zack said with awe all over his face, like she was a superhero.
Noah sighed. They had done far more than merely put a worm in Morgan’s coffee today. It sounded to him like they had put her through the wringer, just like they had done with all the other nannies he had hired over the last two years—all nineteen of them.
Morgan silently watched their interactions as she ate with them. Noah had to admit, “The lasagna is amazing. Where did you learn to cook?”
The boys turned their heads and stared at her with interest.
Morgan blushed and shrugged like what she’d made was nothing special. “It was just my dad and me for years. I learned by default because I happen to enjoy food, and didn’t want to have to constantly eat a microwavable dinner. It was self-preservation, really. There was a lot I did to help out at the house. I took care of all the family finances and the house stuff so my dad could run the station.”
Pain flickered through her eyes for a second before it was gone and replaced by her usual sunny disposition. She shot his boys a grin. “You guys did so well with your dinner. Are you ready for dessert?”
Noah had to confess that he was looking forward to dessert too. If it was half as good as dinner, he’d propose just to keep her around. And that was the dumbest thought to cross his mind in years. She was a good twelve years younger, and barely legal.
Wade and Zack cheered as she carried their empty plates over to the sink. She removed what looked like a pie from the oven, brought it over to the trivet already in place on the table, and set the pie pan down.
At first, Noah wasn’t sure what kind of pie it was until he noticed something moving.
“Aaah!” His boys screamed bloody murder in high-pitched, echoing unison.
“Who would like a slice of earthworm pie?” Morgan tilted her head, with a gregarious grin at his boys, and honey dripping from her cool alto.
Noah tossed his head back and guffawed. He howled with delight, until tears streamed from his eyes from laughing so hard. It had been years since he had laughed like this. And it was all because Morgan had not only called his boys out, but beaten them at their own game.
For the first time in ages, he wondered if he might have found the right nanny for the job. He had been desperate when she’d appeared on his doorstep yesterday, which was why he had hired her on the spot.
As much as he loved his boys, it was a constant juggling act. He dropped balls left, right and center. It had been almost a month since their last nanny had quit, telling Noah to lose her number as she gave him the finger from her car window. Everyone in the area knew his boys’ reputation. They had staunchly avoided him in town, like they were worried he would corner them and force them to watch his kids.
Noah wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes and caught Morgan staring at him. Her slate-blue eyes blazed with hunger. Yet that hunger had nothing to do with the meal. It was blatant desire filling her gaze. Like she wished that he was on the menu instead of the lasagna.
The sheer, unadulterated lust rattled him. Frankly, it turned him on like nothing else had done in years. If Wade and Zack weren’t sitting at the table, watching them, he couldn’t be certain he would keep his hands to himself.
Noah knew he was a good-looking guy. All his life, he had had women fawn over him—in middle school, high school, and here on the ranch. He was familiar with interested gazes, or ones filled with appreciation being cast in his direction. Normally, he’d wink at a cute tourist when he caught them staring, but rarely let it go past anything but flirting.
But that wasn’t the way Morgan was looking at him. It was more like she not only wouldn’t be averse to his darker tastes in the bedroom, but had a few of her own, and knew he could rise to the challenge.
Morgan broke the connection first. A rosy flush spread up her neck and into her cheeks. And fuck—her nipples were hard points beneath the flimsy tank top. They were thick, hard points that begged to be sucked on. Did she flush like that during sex?
But then she took the pie out the back door to dispose of it. And if his gaze lingered on her retreat, he told himself it was out of concern for her wellbeing—this time of night, there were plenty of predators foraging for their evening meal—and not because he wondered what she would feel like writhing under him.
