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Sheriff Needs a Nanny. Teresa CarpenterЧитать онлайн книгу.

Sheriff Needs a Nanny - Teresa Carpenter


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      The bottom line was he needed Ms. Rhodes.

      She’d made Carmichael smile—giggle, even. For that alone she was worth any discomfort he felt. What kind of father would he be if he put his personal well-being above the very real needs of his son?

      There’d have to be ground rules.

      She was too much of a free spirit, and, where he appreciated the blunt honesty she’d displayed, her unpredictability would drive him nuts. His uncharacteristic openness with her spoke of how easily she’d twisted him up.

      Love was not an automatic response. He didn’t get all gooey-eyed or mushy inside when he looked at his son. He did feel a sense of duty. He’d made the decision to have a child and he’d do his best by him. Even if his best didn’t include love. He’d survived without it. So would his son.

      Chapter Three

      “YOU’RE home.” The sleep husky voice came from the depths of the couch.

      He looked down into honey-brown eyes, felt the warmth rising and turned away.

      “Yeah, thanks for staying.” Glancing at his empty plate, he saw he’d eaten every bite. He set the plate on the island countertop. “Let me take Carmichael to bed.”

      “Poor little guy missed you tonight.” Nikki shifted around until she half sat, with Carmichael draped over her lap. “He wouldn’t go to sleep in his crib. I think having a stranger here at bedtime threw him off.”

      “It wasn’t you,” Trace assured her grimly as he lifted his tiny son into his arms, careful not to wake him. “He hasn’t slept well since he came here. Hang on, I’ll be back in a minute.”

      He carried his light burden to the nursery and laid the boy down gently. He placed a toy giraffe next to the baby and tucked them both in with a soft navy blanket. Carmichael stirred. Trace stood over him until he settled, then returned to the living room.

      Trace thanked God he had the garage converted out back. At least he and Ms. Rhodes wouldn’t have to share the house. He’d purposely looked for a property with a detached extra room or granny flat. The division of space served a couple of purposes. One, it preserved his reputation and that of any lady he hired, and two, it defined the barrier between employer and employee and established boundaries for personal space.

      Nikki was in the kitchen, cleaning his dinner dishes. Quite the domestic picture.

      “Leave them,” he told her. “I’ll get to them later.”

      She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “They’re already done.” She opened the cupboard to the left of the sink and placed the plate inside, then turned to face him as she dried her hands with a dishcloth. “It was no trouble.”

      “We have to talk.”

      She nodded, folded the cloth over the edge of the sink and followed him to the living room. “It’s pretty late. It must have been bad tonight.”

      “Bad enough.” He grimly dismissed the accident that had claimed two lives. A lawman couldn’t afford to make it personal. “That’s not what we need to talk about.”

      “Of course.” She leaned forward. “Carmichael is such a sweet little boy, but so sad. He must miss his grandparents a lot.”

      “He asks after them, yes. They’ve been the constant in his life. He has to get past that.”

      “And he will, as you replace them in his affections.”

      He frowned, unnerved at being anyone’s emotional stable. But this was his son, so he put steel in his backbone and strengthened his resolve.

      “Bonding will take a bit of time,” she continued, right through his moment of panic. “Especially with a schedule as erratic as yours.”

      That stung. “I’m doing the best I can.”

      “Are you?” She flushed and held up a placating hand. “I’m sorry. I understand yours isn’t a nine-to-five job, but it’ll really help if you can find some time during the day to spend together. That’s usually easiest during a meal, or at bath or bedtime.”

      “I know the importance of an established schedule.” How exactly had he become the one on the defense?

      “I’m sure you do. And it’s early days for the two of you together. I’m sure we’ll find a system that works for all of us.”

      He appreciated her enthusiasm even as he resisted it. “Sit down, Ms. Rhodes. We have a few ground rules to discuss.”

      “Of course.” The words were terse, reminding him that, as a teacher, she was more used to making rules than following them.

      “First of all, there should be no touching.”

      Her brow furrowed and a question came into her eyes.

      “You’re an attractive woman,” he clarified. “And I’m a healthy adult male. I’ve noticed you’re demonstrative. You talk with your hands and you express emotion by touching. We need to maintain a professional relationship, so no touching.”

      She inclined her head in acknowledgment. “That makes sense. What else?”

      “I don’t need or want you to cook for me. No getting cozy around the kitchen table or snoozing on the couch.”

      “Cozy?” She actually sounded offended by the notion. Perching on the arm of the couch, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I have to cook for the baby and me anyway. It’s just as easy to include enough for you. In fact, it’s harder to cook for one and a half than for three, so it’s just plain wasteful not to include you. If you don’t want me to leave it warming in the oven, fine. I’ll tuck the food into the refrigerator and you can dig it out. As for snoozing on the couch—you were late. I fell asleep.”

      Frowning, she reached for the baby blanket she’d used as a throw and began to fold it. When she continued much of the defiance was missing. “From the sound of your schedule that’s likely to happen again, so how do you suggest we handle the problem?”

      Good question.

      “I’ll put a travel crib in your rooms out back. If you get sleepy, you can take Carmichael with you and I’ll pick him up when I get home.”

      “That’s disruptive for the baby.”

      “Yeah.” His gaze roamed from her Blushed Rose toenails to her two-inch gold hoop earrings. “Well, I think it’s best. I’d also like you to wear a uniform. It doesn’t have to be formal, just keep to black and white.”

      Nikki shifted the blanket she’d folded from her lap to her chest and crossed her arms. “Maybe you should write down all these rules so I don’t forget them.”

      He lifted a brow at her tone. “I’ll let that slide, because it’s late and we’re both tired. But know this: I don’t believe in ignoring problems. I believe in addressing the issue to prevent further problems from arising.”

      “Now, see, I have a different philosophy. Some problems, yes, need to be resolved right away. Others, if you ignore them, often go away.”

      “Or someone else handles them for you.”

      “Sometimes, and it’s lovely when that happens. Other times new info comes to light which changes the situation so the original problem goes away.” She stood and gathered her belongings on the way to the door, where she stopped and met his gaze straight-on. “I don’t think you need to worry about us getting cozy around the dinner table.” She hooked her purse over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

      Nikki purposely timed her arrival for 7:00 a.m. the next morning. Not a minute before or a minute after. She’d learned her lesson about punctuality when it came to Sheriff Oliver.

      As good as he


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