The Nanny's Texas Christmas

“What?” Flint snapped to attention.

“Miss Culpepper didn’t touch it,” Logan repeated. “She just told me if I climbed up she’d take my picture.”

“I knew it!” Marnie’s hand went to her hip. “I’m going to have a word with that girl.”

“Get in line,” Flint said.

Lana put a hand on both of their arms. “I’m sure she didn’t mean for all of that to happen. And we need to keep the focus on what’s most important.” She nodded toward Logan.

“Am I in trouble?” Logan asked, sniffling.

How did you discipline a kid when his whole life had just flashed before your eyes? Flint schooled his features into firmness. “One thing’s for sure, tractors are going to be off-limits for a long time.”

Logan just buried his head in Flint’s shoulder.

As they all started walking again, Flint felt that delicate hand on his arm once more.

“You doing okay?” Lana Alvarez asked.

He shook his head. “I just got a few more gray hairs. I should’ve been watching him better.”

“Maybe so,” Marnie said. “But you can’t, not with all the work you have at the ranch. So I think we can all agree—you need a babysitter for Logan.” She stepped in front of Lana and Flint, causing them both to stop. “And the right person to do it is here. Miss Lana Alvarez.”

“Oh, Flint doesn’t want—”

“You’ve got time after school. And a Christmas vacation coming up.” Marnie crossed her arms, looking determined. “Logan already loves you. You could help to keep him safe and happy.”

Flint’s desire to keep Lana at a distance tried to raise its head, but his worry about his son, his gratitude about Logan’s safety, and the sheer terror he’d just been through, put his own concerns into perspective.

Logan took priority. And if Lana would agree to be Logan’s nanny on a temporary basis, that would be best for Logan.

And Flint would tolerate her nearness. Somehow.

“Can she, Daddy?” Logan asked, his face eager.

He turned to Lana, who looked like she was facing a firing squad. “Can you?” he asked her.

“Please, Miss Alvarez?” Logan chimed in.

Lana drew in a breath and studied them both, and Flint could almost see the wheels turning in her brain.

He could see mixed feelings on her face, too. Fondness for Logan. Mistrust of Flint himself.

Maybe a little bit of...what was that hint of pain that wrinkled her forehead and darkened her eyes?

Flint felt like he was holding his breath.

Finally, Lana gave a definitive nod. “All right,” she said. “We can try it. But I’m going to have some very definite rules for you, young man.” She looked at Logan with mock sternness.

As they started walking toward the house again, Lana gave Flint a cool stare that made him think she might have some definite rules for him, too.

Chapter Four (#u2bda632f-ae4c-59cc-b88c-04fb1b3aea8f)

As Lana pulled up to the ranch the next day after school, she saw Flint waiting for her. Arms crossed, big like a mountain.

Her heart pounded way harder than it should. What had she gotten herself into? Why had Flint’s problem, how to take care of his son and give him the attention he needed, somehow become her problem?

As soon as she parked and got out of her car, he approached her. “We need to talk,” he said, “before Logan gets here.”

“Sure. He’s riding the late bus, right?” She’d brought a bag with a change of clothes, and she pulled it out of her backseat. “By the way, the terms you texted me last night were more than adequate.”

“I’ve been thinking since then,” he said. “Give that bag to me. Let’s walk and talk.”

“Being a foreman means you’re bossy, I guess?” She let him take the bag out of her hands, because it seemed like it wouldn’t do much good to argue.

One side of his mouth quirked up just a little. “Maybe. Come on. I want to show you something.” He shepherded her toward the rear of the ranch house.

His hand on the small of her back meant nothing, she reminded herself as he ushered her through the kitchen. Just another piece of his bossiness. But the unseasonably warm weather made her fan herself and inch away from him as they arrived at a room in the back. Actually, a little apartment.

“We got to thinking,” he said. “Marnie and Bea and I. We wondered if you’d want to stay here through the holidays.”

“Stay here?” She looked around the cozy little efficiency. “Why? I have a place in town.”

“True, but sometimes, I have to work late. Mrs. Toler used to stay over, but it wouldn’t be appropriate...” He trailed off.

Lana swallowed.

“Anyway, it’s inconvenient having to bring clothes along each day, isn’t it?”

She turned around, looking at the apartment. “It’s true I haven’t really settled my place yet,” she admitted. The small apartment building where she lived in Haven had been a temporary solution when she’d gotten the teaching job in August. And she’d been feeling depressed about being there alone over the holidays. To live at the ranch, surrounded by all the kids and clutter and life... It would definitely suit her.

“See, there’s a desk and study lamp.” He turned it on, then off again. “For your teacher work. The place isn’t fancy, but...”

The door to the apartment burst open, and Bea Brewster, the fiftysomething director of the boys ranch, came in. Tall, with no-nonsense brown hair and glasses, she was stern and fair. The boys all knew they couldn’t pull anything over on her. And everyone learned pretty quickly that there was a heart of gold beneath her businesslike facade.

“Just the two people I want to see,” she said. “Do the two of you have a moment? Did I hear, Lana, that you might stay with us for a while?”

Lana blinked. “I... I might. Flint suggested the idea just now. Is that what you wanted to talk about? If it’s a question of rent, I’m month by month at my apartment...”

“No. No rent.” Bea patted Lana’s shoulder. “It’s just standing empty. You’re one of our best volunteers. Take it.”

“But someone else might want—”

Bea waved a hand. “All of our other volunteers have...” She paused, her mouth quirking as if she was embarrassed. “No one else needs it.”

Heat rose in Lana’s face. She knew exactly what Bea had been about to say. All of our other volunteers have families. She took a quick glance at Flint. Did he think she was pitiful, all alone in the world?

He was looking at her thoughtfully, but exactly what he was thinking, she couldn’t tell.