A Blind Date With Her Cowboy Billionaire Boss Read online

  “So you're good with horses?” he asked again.

  “Yes, sir. I grew up in Carrin, and my dad owned horses, so I'm pretty familiar with—”

  “—What about kids?” he asked.

  Shelby’s piercing pale blue eyes went as wide as saucers.

  “Oh, um. I'm single, actually,” she said, scratching her arms. “No kids.”

  “No, no,” he shook his head. “I mean, are you good with kids?”

  “I love kids,” she said.

  “Any experience taking care of them?”

  “Um, well, I have a lot of little cousins and…” she said slowly, breaking eye-contact. “Are there a lot of little ones who come to the ranch?”

  “Not always,” he laughed. “Usually just mine. To be honest, Shelby, I’m willing to offer you a job on the spot, but not on my ranch. How would you like to be a full-time nanny?”

  Chapter Four

  Shelby

  By the time Shelby got home that evening, she was still in shock about her new job. She had barely been expecting to get the job at all, let alone get one she hadn't even applied for.

  Whitney wasn’t finished at the diner yet, which usually made Shelby feel anxious. It meant she was destined to be alone in the apartment for the next few hours, and she wasn’t the type of girl who liked to be alone with her thoughts.

  But today it didn’t feel so bad.

  Today, Shelby had a win, and it had been a long time since she’d had a win. On some level, she felt like dancing. Then again, she also felt like throwing up.

  Shelby looked toward the front door of the tiny apartment, willing it to open. When it remained locked tight, she wandered into her bedroom.

  Whitney’s apartment was right above the diner. It was a two-bedroom, one-bath with a large living room and a teeny, tiny kitchen.

  Shelby’s bedroom was painted a pale yellow and had a single bed and one dresser. She hadn’t taken much when she left Dallas. Not her furniture—not even her dog. Her ex managed to keep those things, along with other precious parts of her life.

  Aside from her clothes, Shelby had been unwilling to open her carefully sealed boxes. That was her former life, she told herself. And until she was over the pain of the past, she saw no reason to return to it.

  “Then why did you take the job, stupid?” she whispered to herself.

  She begrudgingly peeled back the masking tape that sealed one of her moving boxes and let out an audible, heavy breath.

  A shoebox of Polaroids was on top of the pile. She ripped off the tape sealing the tiny box and removed the lid.

  She had been a big proponent of the retro style film photos coming back into popularity, so it didn’t surprise her when a handful spilled onto the floor, practically exploding out of the box.

  Shelby picked them up, forcing them into a pile in her hands, and stared down at the haunting photos.

  Her first home. A little seventies bungalow she inherited from her parents after they moved out to New York state.

  Her first love. Andrew Clark.

  He was tall and handsome. Italian, beautiful tan skin, inviting blue eyes, impossibly thick hair. Ex-best-friend. Ex-husband. Ex-love.

  Shelby met Andrew at the ranch where he worked in Dallas. It wasn’t nearly as luxurious as Brookside. Not even close.

  But it was a fun place to go on a Sunday afternoon. They often had little fairs there, and her father housed his horses there after they moved off their farm property and into the bungalow.

  Andrew was absolutely perfect. He was the most attractive person she had ever seen in real life. Not to mention he had a great laugh, an even better sense of humor, and genuine kindness that she hadn’t sensed in anyone before.

  He managed the stables, and she would always run into him when her father was there with the horse.

  The two of them hit it off. She was twenty-two years old when they began dating, twenty-three when they got married, and twenty-five when she gave birth to their son. Powell.

  Shelby grit her teeth.

  She tossed a photo into the pile and continued to search through the box until she uncovered a little blue bib, laced with white trim and a deep blue whale embroidered on the front.

  “Hi, baby,” she said, feeling her throat tighten with emotion as the words left her mouth.

  Shelby brought the garment to her nose and inhaled the baby powder scent of the laundry detergent. She pressed the bib into her chest and held both hands over it, erupting in tears.

  Months ago, Shelby would have sworn she didn’t have any tears left to cry. But it seemed as though, like most things in her life, she was wrong.

  By the time Whitney came home, Shelby was just about ready for bed. She had long ago washed her face and slipped into her baggiest pair of pajamas.

  She had just been mixing up some hot chocolate when Whitney walked through the door.

  Even though it Carrin was located by the water, it was by no means a cool area of Texas. The summers were scorching and dry, especially now at the beginning of July. But something about making things cozy in the house—lighting big candles, sipping hot drinks, getting in wrist-to-ankle pajamas—was comforting to Shelby.

  She stirred the hot chocolate with a teaspoon and added a dash of milk to the mug.

  “What are you doing?” Whitney laughed.

  “Making a hot chocolate,” she said.

  “Great, make that two,” Whitney said with a smile, exhausted as she slumped down on the sectional couch.

  “Long day?” Shelby asked as she began pouring another mug.

  “Long, long, long day,” Whitney said with wide, expressive eyes. “What about you? How’d the interview go?”

  “It went…interesting,” she said with a smirk.

  Whitney perked up at the mere suggestion of gossip and extended her hand to take the hot chocolate from her friend.

  “Okay,” Whitney said, drawing out her vowels. “And what does that mean?”

  “I got a job!” Shelby exclaimed excitedly.

  “You got the job!” her friend repeated, equally excited as she cheered. “That’s amazing. Congratulations!”

  Shelby nodded and set her glass on the coffee table before taking a seat next to Whitney. She crossed her legs and turned on the cushion so that her whole body was facing Whitney.

  “Uh oh,” Whitney said with a hesitant chuckle. “What happened? You have your ‘I-have-something-to-tell-you’ look on your face.”

  “Which notoriously has not been a good look for me,” Shelby snorted.

  Whitney raised a brow and offered a well-humored shrug. “I wasn’t going to say it, but yeah.”

  Shelby inhaled a long breath and then nodded toward the console table up against the wall.

  Whitney followed her eyes to the table and let out a soft. “Aww, Shelby,” when she caught sight of the photo frame that was newly displayed. “I love it.”

  The photo was Shelby up against a fence in her parent’s backyard. She wore big black glasses, pulled her blonde hair up into a messy bun, and held a little baby in her arms.

  “Little Powell,” Whitney said with the sugary tone one reserves only for babies and cutest of puppies.

  Powell wore a white onesie with a gray arrow pattern and had his wild, dark hair in a little fauxhawk.

  Powell was born at eight pounds, two ounces. Andrew had been by her side, cheering her on the whole time. She took no drugs and was only in labor for three hours.

  “You’re a natural!” her doctor had congratulated.

  “Oh, we’ll be back,” Andrew teased. “We want a big family.”

  Shelby cringed at the memory now.

  Powell had lived for exactly two months. Three months later, Andrew left. There were no more second chances between them. No more babies. No more family.

  This fact had been haunting her like a ghost. Her family—the entire future she had planned and made a reality for herself—was gone.

  Hiding from Powell, from the memory of hi
m, was all she could do to stay sane.

  She didn’t want to remember her pregnancy. She didn’t want to remember how her breasts filled with milk at the sound of him crying or the strong bond they shared. She didn’t want to remember family nights with Andrew or the way she felt so peaceful with Powell asleep in her arms.

  It had been too painful.

  But now, thanks to her new job, she had to stop running.

  “I got a job today,” Shelby repeated, unable to stare at the photo of she and Powell any longer.

  Whitney quickly took the hint: change the subject.

  “So you said,” she said with charming ease. “So, you’re going to be a stable wench?”

  “First of all, I’m pretty sure that is far from the official title and second of all, no, actually. I’m going to be a nanny.”

  Whitney blinked in surprise before her stare turned into a deeply wrinkled frown. “You’re what?” she enunciated.

  “I had my interview at Brookside today, and actually, it was with the owner.”

  “Colt?” Whitney asked, and Shelby nodded.

  “And we got talking and, well, basically, instead of offering me a job at the ranch, he offered me a job as his nanny.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Whitney breathed, still processing. It sounded like she was stifling a laugh. “And you said yes?”

  “I mean, what else could I say?”

  Whitney swallowed audibly. “No?”

  “Well, I mean, if we're getting technical, then technically, I paused for an uncomfortably long amount of time and then said yes, if that helps,” Shelby clarified.

  “Why didn't you say something like, “Actually, I was under the impression I would be training horses or whatever. Not raising your kids?’”

  “Yeah, well, it's a little awkward when someone is offering a job—” Shelby prattled awkwardly, then added, “A job that you need—and he—”

  “And he's so cute?” Whitney asked with a knowing smile.

  “No.”

  Her friend made a face and crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side.

  “I mean, yeah, he is very attractive!” Shelby blushed. “But I don't know. It was so awkward! When he offered it to me, I told him I was expecting to work at the ranch, and then he started talking numbers and all that.”

  “Talk to me,” her friend said sweetly. “What are you thinking?”

  “I'm thinking...this is a bad idea.”

  Whitney nodded. “I'm thinking you're right.” Then she glanced over to the photo of Powell on the table. “Are you ready for something like this?”

  “I don't know. It makes me feel kind of sick to my stomach,” she said. It was the truth.

  “You need to call him and tell him you've changed your mind,” her friend suggested as she leaned forward to grab her hot chocolate.

  “I can't. You should have seen him. He looked exhausted!” Shelby said, remembering what it felt like to feel swallowed by parenthood and its eternal lack of sleep. “He's completely overwhelmed with these kids, and I guess his mom was down helping or something, but she's headed home soon, and he needs—”

  “He's a rich guy, Shelby. He may need a nanny, but he doesn't need you. And look, I'm not trying to be negative about it or anything, okay? You know I think you're a great mom. You're an amazing parent, so good with kids. But, I'm just not sure it would be good for you.”

  “Right. I know,” Shelby nodded quickly, suddenly feeling lectured, though she knew that to be out of character for Whitney. “Or...”

  “Or?”

  Shelby shrugged. “Or it could be great for me,” she said quietly.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, let's start at the salary, and I do mean salary. I'm not getting paid by the hour; I'm getting a proper salary with benefits. Do you know how much that will help me?”

  Whitney nodded. “Outstanding financial debts left by the jerk of an ex-husband? Yeah, I'd say getting a real salary would be pretty amazing, at this point.”

  “Not only that,” she said meekly. “Maybe it'll be good for me to be around little kids again.”

  “Shelby,” her friend began in that small, feel-sorry-for-you tone Shelby had come to resent.

  “I've been avoiding children like the plague since Powell died. And maybe it's time I stop running from this. I used to love kids, Whit,” she said, trying not to get emotional. “They were my favorite part of my job.”

  “I know they were.”

  “I want my life back, Whitney. I want that joy back, and I think this could be healing for me.”

  “You know I’ll do anything to support you,” her friend said. “I just want you to be sure this is the best thing for you before jumping in.”

  Shelby paused, rolling the statement over and over in her mind.

  “Whitney,” she said, smiling. “I’m sure.”

  Chapter Five

  Colt

  The room was spinning.

  Colt remembered the night before, staying late at the restaurant at the ranch, but coming home was a fog.

  He turned in his bed and felt the whole room jolt forward.

  Bourbon. He remembered that.

  Too much bourbon.

  His ears pricked back when he heard the front door latch close loudly. His mother was leaving today. Would she just leave without saying goodbye? No doubt she had ordered her car by now, but to leave without waking him seemed unlikely.

  He squinted and turned to his phone charging on the nightstand. He tapped the screen twice and saw that it was already eight in the morning.

  Colt was officially late for work for the first time since returning to the ranch after Amma died.

  He rubbed his forehead, massaging it with his middle finger and thumb. It felt good to have the warm pressure against his temples after such a terrible sleep.

  He dreamed of Amma. He dreamed that he woke up in the night and she was sleeping next to him. He woke up from the dream, and she was still there.

  Then he really woke up, and the reality of his life hit him all over again. His stomach sank and filled with anxiety when he saw she was gone.

  “And you'll be taking care of the children?” he heard his mother’s muffled voice from down the stairs.

  “Yes, ma'am,” came a softer, sweeter voice.

  “And do you have any experience taking care of children?” his mother asked.

  Colt knitted his brows together and sat up in bed.

  Who was she talking to?

  “Um, a little, yes,” the woman said nervously.

  Then it occurred to Colt—it was the nanny!

  He sprung up out of bed and threw on a pair of pajama pants as fast as humanly possible. He had completely forgotten that today was her first day, and the last thing he wanted was his mother to scare her off with passive-aggressive questions.

  Colt raced out his bedroom door and watched his mother and Shelby from the top of the staircase.

  His mother’s tone was clipped as she said, “And you think a little experience is enough to care for two children day in and day out every day?”

  “Mom!” he yelled.

  Shannon’s neck snapped in his direction, and her eyes widened with horror as she saw his state of dress.

  Added to her irritation was likely the fact that he hadn’t exactly told her he had hired someone to take care of the children.

  “Colt!” She lectured. “Put some clothes on!”

  “Stop hassling my employee, please,” he said, trying to sound charming.

  His mother set her jaw as she looked up at him, then offered Shelby a dirty look before spinning on her heel and marching to the top of the spiral staircase.

  “Just once second, please, Shelby,” he called down the stairs, raising a finger to his new hire before turning to his mother and whispering, “What are you doing?”

  “What are you doing?” she enunciated pointedly. “Did you just hire the first girl who came in? She has no business being here. She doesn't even
have kids!”

  “Keep your voice down,” he whispered. “She worked in a pediatrician’s office.”

  “As a receptionist, not a doctor,” his mother said.

  The fact that she already knew this put him on edge. How long had she been talking to Shelby before he’d woken up?

  “Hey, she knows CPR,” he said with a shrug.

  Shannon frowned, revealing the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. “That’s not funny.”

  “She’s qualified,” he insisted. “I already interviewed her, and I think she’s going to be an amazing fit for the kids.”

  His mother shook her head softly, as though considering something privately. She looked down the stairs and gave Shelby a once-over before turning back to Colt.

  “I don't know if this is a good idea, dear,” she said quietly.

  “Why not? You think you’re going to be replaced?” he teased, nudging her and trying to play to her good side. “You think the kids are going to like her better than they like you? Impossible!”

  His mother didn’t look impressed. “I think you know why.”

  Colt raised a curious brow and looked down the stairs.

  Shelby’s icy hair was done up in a large, messy bun with a golden yellow bow tying it together. She wore the same color strappy sundress with a black t-shirt underneath.

  She looked beautiful in that casual way carefree girls did.

  He laughed. “Oh, ma!” he scolded, then whispered, “I'm not a teenager. I can control my raging hormones around my staff, alright? Besides, that's the last thing I want.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, practically accusing.

  The question took him by surprise.

  He was sure, of course. But the thought that his mother wouldn’t be happy for him to move on puzzled him. Maybe she didn’t think he was ready.

  “Amma was my life,” he insisted. “Now my life is the ranch.”

  “Your life should be your children, Colt.”

  He wanted to roll his eyes. No answer would have been good enough for her, he decided. “You know what I mean!”