Single Dad Needs Nanny: Sheriff Needs a Nanny

His laser green gaze sliced to her, and she cringed inwardly at her unfortunate word-choice. The word probably added to his irritation at being questioned at all.

“Our appointment will have to wait until tomorrow. The Mayor called for a breakfast meeting. Was I supposed to tell him I couldn’t make it because I had to feed my son?”

“You say that as if feeding your son isn’t important.” Walking to the table for the baby monitor, she sent him an aggravated glare. “Did you even suggest an alternative time?”

“No.” He shrugged. “We often meet over breakfast. We’re busy men, it’s easiest to get our session out of the way early.”

“And that was fine when you were on your own. Now you have a son who needs your attention.”

“He’ll get it tomorrow morning.” He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. He slid on mirrored shades, which added an extra layer of stern to his tough visage. “Don’t attempt to interfere with my work, Ms. Rhodes. You won’t like the results.”

Nikki fumed as he closed the door on her—figuratively and literally.

She stormed into the kitchen and took her ire out on innocent pots and pans.

“Oh, shoot. Wait!” She went running for the door, to catch Trace before he left, but when she stepped out on the deck it was to watch his SUV disappear down the street.

“Dang.” Stubborn man. He’d riled her both last night and this morning, so she’d forgotten to ask about the car seat for Carmichael. She assumed it must be in Trace’s vehicle, because she hadn’t found it when she went through the house and garage yesterday. There was no stroller, either. Nor playpen or walker. The only baby items were the crib and dressing table and a highchair.

He needed to pick up the necessities from his in-laws’ place or buy new ones, because she and Mickey were prisoners without them. Back in the kitchen, she frowned at the cupboards, reminded they were also low on groceries. She began to plot her evening. There was more than one twenty-four-hour superstore in the county.

If she had to call 911 to get his attention, she and Trace would be visiting one before the night ended.

Chapter Four

NIKKI was ready for Trace when he got home at seven that evening. She sat alone at the dining-room table, her purse in front of her, along with a small cooler of food. The elusive Russ was playing with Mickey in his room down the hall.

She’d covered dinner and a sitter; she didn’t want Trace to have any wiggle room to get out of going shopping. Mickey was as sweet as could be, and a good baby, but he expected to be held all the time. Nikki literally couldn’t get anything done. And without a car seat or stroller, she remained housebound.

It might be unfair to expect Trace to shop after a twelve-hour day, but expecting her to care for a baby without the proper equipment was equally unreasonable.

He walked in the door and over to the dish to drop in his keys. He glanced around, then looked at her.

“What’s up? Are you going someplace? Hey, I’m sorry I’m late.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in a weary gesture. “Time just disappears. Is Carmichael sleeping?”

“No. I hired Russ to watch him tonight. Carmichael needs some things. You and I are going shopping.”

“Not tonight.” Dark brows lowered in a frown. “I’m tired and I’m hungry. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“We’re going tonight,” she insisted. “I’ve only been here two days, and I already know not to trust the promise of tomorrow.”

His scowl darkened, but he couldn’t deny the allegation. “I thought I made it clear how I feel about being manipulated.”

“Then don’t force it on me.” She patted the cooler and recited the list of items Carmichael required. “I’ve packed you dinner. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask you to go out if I didn’t really need these things to care for him properly. I’m tired, too, but we need to go tonight. How did you even get Carmichael home without a car seat?”

He looked pained. “There was one. It was too small, so I took it down to the station to have on hand in case of an emergency.” He sighed. “Do I have time for a shower and change of clothes?”

Relieved to have his co-operation, she grinned. “If you hurry.”

“Do you want a modular unit for a playpen, or will the portable crib work?” Trace asked as they stood in the baby aisle of the superstore.

“Oh, do they have modular units here?” Nikki stepped back to view the merchandise better. “Where? Does it list the dimensions?”

“I don’t see them here. A friend has one. I can find out where he got it, or order it online, but you’d have to wait.”

She took in their two carts, swollen with large boxes. It contained a fortune. “Oh, yeah, we don’t have to get everything tonight. I wasn’t thinking of the expense.”

“Let me worry about the expense.” Injured pride added bite to his response. “I’d rather finish it tonight. I can afford whatever is needed for my son.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t.” Maybe she could use that pride to motivate him on an emotional level. “Thank you for coming out tonight. I’ve really been stuck these past couple of days. Carmichael is a good baby but—”

“He wants to be held,” Trace finished, and she met his gaze in a moment of shared understanding. “I know.”

“Let’s go to the toys. He needs to become engaged in activities that hold his attention. Russ brought over some of his niece’s blocks. He says Carmichael will play with them for an hour or more.”

“Huh?” Trace made a show of turning toward the toys. “Let’s get us some blocks.”

She laughed, and quickly caught up to him. “When are you going to pick up the rest of his stuff?”

He looked blank. “What do you mean?”

“His stuff. For his room. Toys, stuffed animals, wall hangings. Things with color and form to inspire his mind—that stuff.”

“Oh. There wasn’t any of that in what my father-in-law brought.”

“So M—Carmichael has no stuff? That’s kind of sad.” Shocked and saddened by the revelation, Nikki spoke without thinking, but regretted her lack of forethought when she saw the humor fade from his face. She tried to save the moment. “But, hey, that means you get to choose his stuff.”

“Me?” A shadow passed over his features. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“It’s easy,” she encouraged him. “What did you have in your room as a kid?”

“Here are the blocks.” Pushing into the toy aisle, he made a point of studying the displays. Finally he said, “My room looked pretty much like Carmichael’s, except with a bed instead of a crib.”

“Oh, Trace,” she whispered. “You’re breaking my heart.”

He glanced at her and his eyes softened. “No need,” he assured her. “You don’t miss what you never knew.”

Caught by his compelling jade gaze, she moved closer. “You have a chance to give him something you never had.”

He nodded, and then moved his gaze down to his side. “You’re touching me, Ms. Rhodes.”

So she was. Both arms were wrapped around his strong arm. Muscles flexed under her fingers as he carefully stepped away.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Yeah.” Reaching for a box of blocks, he changed the subject. Relieved, she followed his lead. For such a tough character he showed vulnerability at the oddest moments. It was clear to her that he needed Mickey as much as Mickey needed him.

She blinked away weak tears. She’d have to stay strong if she meant to help them find each other.