Dax snatched up the two empty glasses and a corn dog wrapper from the coffee table, toting them to the big, silver, step-levered trash can in the kitchen. Silly to feel nervous about interviewing a prospective housekeeper, but he needed to get this woman on board right away. Rushing home to meet Gavin’s school bus each evening took a bite out of his productivity.
He trailed back through the living room, wiping a shirtsleeve over the fireplace mantel then grimaced to discover his shirt was now covered in dust. He batted at it and sneezed when the dust flew upward, dancing in the overhead light.
The doorbell chimed.
As he strode across the carpet toward the foyer, he noticed two of Gavin’s miniature cars and a sock sticking out from under the couch—along with a dust bunny the size of a jack rabbit.
He gave up. He was a rancher. This was why he hired housekeepers.
With a final slap at his dusty shirtsleeve Dax yanked the front door open. His mouth also fell open as he looked down into a familiar face. A very young, slender and decidedly pretty face.
Blast it.
What the devil was the little mama doing on his porch? Please, please. Surely not to apply for the housekeeper position.
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