A Blind Date With Her Cowboy Billionaire Boss Read online

“Why don't you let one of your brothers come down and run things for a while?” she suggested.

  “No.”

  “Or get Emanuel to run the ranch for a while. You can come back to Houston with your father and I and—”

  Colt shook his head. “No,” he repeated. “Emanuel ran the ranch for months after Amma. I'm not going to put that on him again. I can handle it.”

  “Colt, I'm worried about you,” she said, drawing a hand up to his shoulder.

  “Seriously?” he smirked. “You told me you were leaving. You told me that I needed to hire someone, and now I have. You can't come in and complain about it just because I followed through.”

  “I don't understand why you don't just let Kennedy come stay for a couple of weeks,” she reasoned with him, but he wasn’t having it.

  A quick honk was heard from outside the residence. “Is that your car?” he asked, noting the luggage that was sitting downstairs by the door.

  “Oh, don't do this,” Shannon said.

  “I'm not doing anything,” he laughed. “I didn't order the car; you did.”

  Shannon clenched her teeth. “I worry about you,” she said. “I'm serious. You have some young girl coming in here, you know...you're vulnerable right now, Colt. I don't want to see you get taken advantage of.”

  “Mom, I'm telling you,” he said kindly, “the only thing Ms. Peters is going to get from me is time with my children and a paycheck. Okay?”

  She met his eyes, searching them for the truth. When she seemed satisfied with whatever she found, she nodded and said, “Okay.” Then she kissed him on the cheek and said, “I have to go. I’ve already set Isaiah up with a movie and Eleanor is downstairs in her rocker. Call me if you need anything.”

  Colt nodded and hugged his mother, giving her an extra tight squeeze. “I will.”

  “Anything,” she repeated.

  “I will,” he said again.

  Shannon seemed satisfied. She took one step down the stairs before turning to him and adding, “And go put a shirt on.”

  Colt did as he was asked and put some clothes on before meeting his mother at the front door. He carried her bags out to her private car and helped her in, saying his goodbyes and expressing his thanks to her for all she had done to help him these last few months.

  When her car pulled out of his long driveway, he felt a small sense of relief and equal parts dread that she was gone.

  He turned around and stared at his front door, suddenly filled with embarrassment and a flood of nerves. Shelby was all he had to rely on now, which was quite a feat for somebody he had just met.

  Colt walked back into the house and found Shelby in the living room sitting with Isaiah. His son had already taken a seat on her lap, apparently more than ready for Shelby’s attention.

  “Hey,” he said awkwardly, walking toward the couch. “I'm sorry about that. Parents have this lifelong desire to embarrass their children.”

  “I guess that means that torch has been passed onto you,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said, snapping his fingers and leaning down to tickle Isaiah. “I never thought of it that way. Man, my kids are going to pay for all of the embarrassing things that happened to me when I was a kid.”

  “That's healthy,” she giggled.

  “I see you’ve already met half of the clan,” he said, gesturing toward Isaiah.

  “He’s showing me ‘Mighty Caleb,’” she said, pointing toward the movie on the big screen in front of them.

  “Well, why don’t I show you around?”

  Chapter Six

  Shelby

  Shelby's first day working for Colt was good. In fact, it went better than she thought.

  Isaiah had been so welcoming, even if his grandmother hadn't been so sweet. But it was meeting baby Eleanor that had Shelby most worked up.

  Colt took her upstairs into the little girl’s massive nursery. It was decorated in a woodland theme with a lot of white-painted wood planks, rustic signs, and greens and beiges throughout the room.

  For a moment, and considering Colt's wealth, she wondered if they had it professionally decorated. But no, Shelby thought. It was too full of both tasteful and thoughtful touches that only a mother would think to do.

  When Shelby was pregnant, she and Andrew were tight for money, and all she could afford were second-hand baby items. She bought Powell’s crib, changing table, and dresser online, as well as the chair she sat in during feedings.

  Powell’s clothes were also second hand, save for the items she’d received at her baby shower and his coming home outfit. It was a teeny tiny white onesie with a gray evergreen tree on it. The lettering on the front read: ‘Baby Bear.’

  The bottoms were white newborn joggers with gray trim and charcoal bears illustrated on the front. There was a little hat to match.

  It seemed like such a small thing, but that silly little outfit had meant so much to her. She had fretted over hundreds of coming home outfits online before deciding on Baby Bear.

  She talked about the choice and showed it off to friends with pride while she was still pregnant. She had taken dozens of photos of Powell in it on his first day home.

  It was as though she wore it like a badge of honor. She loved her baby so much that she spent days agonizing over the perfect fabric to bring him home in.

  It was stupid.

  Shelby rocked Eleanor back and forth in her arms as she sat in the cream-colored glider next to her crib. She fed the bottle into Eleanor’s mouth and watched the sweet way the little girl

  “You were hungry today, weren’t you?” she cooed. “You had all of your lunch and look at you now. You’re downing this whole bottle. You’re going to be milk-drunk, aren’t you?” she giggled, watching Eleanor’s eyes begin to roll back and close in the contented way babies did.

  Shelby smiled and rubbed the back of her finger along Eleanor’s cheek. She and Isaiah both had the cutest brown eyes and chubby cheeks.

  “I could sit here with you all day. I really could,” she whispered, looking down at the little girl contentedly.

  It was an otherworldly thing to fail at being a mother.

  The role of a parent was to protect your child. All you want to do is keep them safe, make them happy.

  When Powell died, Shelby knew she had utterly failed. She didn’t protect him. She didn’t save him.

  Three months later, Andrew left her for someone else. She remembered the moment so clearly, it was as though she could step right into the memory and become a walking, talking, active part of it.

  Andrew slapped divorce papers down on her lap. “I need a partner, not a zombie,” he snapped in the most hateful, hollow tone she had ever heard him use.

  “Andrew, I love you!” she had shouted. “I’m trying, here!”

  “It’s not enough,” he responded, shaking his head at her.

  Shelby’s eyes went wide at the memory, and her body was overcome with chills. She looked down at the sleeping baby girl in her arms and darted up out of her chair. She buckled Eleanor into her sleeper chair and backed away from the infant. She threw her hands up into the air as though a police officer were aiming a weapon at her, her whole body shaking.

  She didn’t feel worthy of holding the sweet girl, so she watched her from the rocker instead.

  Shelby could feel a panic attack surging through her body, threatening to burst. Just as she felt her chest filling with tight electricity, Isaiah walked into the room.

  “Can you—?” he began but quieted to a whisper when he saw Eleanor was napping. “Can you read to me?” he asked.

  Shelby swallowed hard, forcing her emotions down. “Of course, buddy,” she said. “What do you have there?”

  “Mr. Bryce’s Mice,” Isaiah said, clutching the book to his chest.

  Shelby patted her thigh and Isaiah raced up and climbed up onto her, taking his seat in the crook of her arm and staring wide-eyed at the beautiful illustrations on the pages before them.

  Some days, that bo
y was her saving grace.

  Her first two weeks had gone well. Both children had taken to her. This was a fact that both delighted and mystified her.

  They had their ups and downs, of course. That was the thing about kids. Very rarely were they ever on their best behavior, so whatever you got straight out of the gate was probably what you were stuck with. No pretenses.

  Sometimes, Isaiah was the sweetest boy in the whole world. Sometimes all he wanted to do was cuddle up with her on the couch and watch a movie or go outside and play games. Sometimes he would nestle in beside her when she was holding Eleanor and kiss her on the cheek in the honeyed way only a big brother could, and Shelby's heart would melt.

  But other days, he was full of anger. He would give unnecessary attitude about the silliest things or find new ways to test Shelby’s patience.

  “Isaiah, you have to clean up your toys now, okay?” she instructed, gesturing toward the dozens of stuffed animals, building blocks, and action figures that were strewn around the playroom floor.

  “Playtime is over,” she said, hitting her palm against her leg twice as she held Shelby in her arms. “We have to get some dinner.”

  “No!” Isaiah yelled, his dark curls bouncing as he pushed past her.

  “Isaiah, please?” she asked, following him out into the hall and bouncing Eleanor in her arms. “I will help you put your toys away, but you have to help me too, okay? Then after dinner, maybe we’ll play a game.”

  Isaiah looked up at her, brown eyes glowering. “Why d-do I hav’ta help?”

  “Because I didn't make this mess; you did,” she said.

  “You're not Mama!” he shouted, continuing to storm away.

  The sudden burst of noise sent Eleanor into a crying fit, and Shelby set her jaw. Some days, the little boy didn’t make it easy.

  “Hey, come here, please,” she said sternly, following after him.

  He didn’t listen, and she marched in front of him, kneeling. “Isaiah,” she snipped.

  His brows cupped, eyes averting to the floor. “What?”

  “No, I am not your mom. I'm your nanny,” she said, her tone soft. “And I would appreciate if you helped me clean up the playroom.”

  “Or what?” he asked petulantly.

  “For a start, if you don't help me out, then I'll tell your dad. And you don't want to make your daddy upset, do you?” she asked.

  “I don't care,” the boy shrugged.

  “No?” she asked in surprise. “You don't care if you hurt your daddy's feelings?”

  “He doesn't care if he-if he hurts mine,” Isaiah said in a tone so calm and casual, it nearly broke her heart.

  She swallowed awkwardly and reached out, offering her hand. Isaiah took the hand reluctantly, finally looking up at her. “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” she said, still trying to maintain some levity in her tone.

  “Daddy's not nice.”

  “No?” She bit her lip. She wanted to ask more, but she knew that getting into their family drama wasn’t part of her job description. Still, her curiosity got the best of her. “Why not?” she asked.

  “He doesn't spend no time with me or Ella.”

  Shelby nodded. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t notice Colt’s absence. He worked a lot. She understood that he was running an empire and she couldn’t fathom how hard it would be to try and raise two children on your own. But his lack of effort with the kids was pointed.

  In fact, there was a lot Colt didn’t seem to know about his kids. Particularly when it came to Eleanor.

  He didn’t know what she liked to eat, when she went to bed, whether she liked to be swaddled. He didn’t know her schedule, and he didn’t spend much time with her except to say good morning, goodbye, and goodnight.

  Colt didn’t discipline the children. And the rare times he did try to, he was too harsh, yelling at Isaiah instead of explaining why he was upset.

  He had no routines for them, which left both Isaiah and the baby cranky by the end of the day. In fact, he barely made an effort at all to create a structure for them.

  Even knowing these things, Shelby didn’t want Isaiah to think that his father didn’t care about him.

  “Maybe he doesn't get to spend as much time with you as he'd like to, but your daddy works really hard to make sure you and Eleanor have a nice home and great toys to play with,” she said, giving the little boy a broad smile as she swung his hand in hers. “And now that I'm here, your dad will have less to do when he comes home, which will give him more free time to spend with you.”

  “That's right, kiddo,” Colt said, startling Shelby as he came up behind her. She hadn’t even heard him come in. “But you don't get any playtime with me unless you start picking up those toys.” He clapped his hands. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” Isaiah said, hanging his head and walking down the hallway and back towards his playroom.

  Shelby smiled at Colt. She felt embarrassed, but she didn’t know why. She stood up to follow Isaiah, but Colt put a hand up and said, “I’ll go.”

  She nodded. “I’ll go get dinner ready.”

  Colt had a chef on call. He had mentioned that to her before, and Shelby gladly used the offer to order in from the ranch restaurant on her first night on the job. Although the meal was one of the best she’d had in a very long time, she also felt weird using the service.

  She asked Colt if it would be alright for her to start making dinners at home and he was wildly enthusiastic about the idea.

  Whenever he would eat a meal she had prepared, he would always make sure to verbalize how delicious it was or tell her the next morning when she showed up for her shift.

  Shelby wasn’t sure if he actually enjoyed the meals, though made sure to take down some of his favorite dishes—roast beef and potatoes with gravy, sticky barbecue chicken, and any pasta served with a butter sauce.

  Something about it was so nice. Taking care of the kids all day and then preparing a home-cooked meal. It had only been a few months since Andrew had left, but her life as a wife and mother seemed so, so far away.

  “Thanks for saying all that,” Colt said as he stepped into the oversized kitchen. He took a seat at the island where she was prepping a tiny plate for Eleanor.

  Shelby smiled at him as she arranged the mashed carrots, mashed sweet potato, a few peels of slow-cooked, plain chicken breast, mashed banana, and four-ounce a bottle of formula for the baby.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” she said. “I’m sure tomorrow, you’ll be his hero.”

  “Not likely,” he laughed, rubbing his hand along the beautiful brown granite countertop.

  “There’s fried chicken and gravy, biscuits, potatoes, and a green bean casserole ready for dinner,” she said, changing the subject.

  “Wow! Somebody’s been busy today.”

  Shelby laughed. “I like it,” she said. “Don’t you ever like cooking?”

  “Wasn’t ever really my thing,” he said. “The cooking part, pass. The eating part? Sign me up.”

  She smiled at him as she walked into the living room. She picked Eleanor up out of her swing and brought her to the highchair in the formal dining room.

  Colt helped her bring all of the dishes to the table and even got Isaiah to come and sit with them.

  “Are you staying?” Colt asked, watching her carefully as she fed Eleanor.

  “I’ll just feed her and head home,” she said sweetly.

  She could feel her boss’s eyes on her. “Stay,” he offered. “Look at how much food you made! It’s a feast in here. You always feed Eleanor and stay long enough for her to spit up on you or get a diaper change. Let’s end things differently tonight.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” she said, waving him off.

  “Yeah, come on, stay!” Isaiah cheered.

  “Aw, buddy, I wish I could but—”

  “Then stay,” Colt dared her.

  She met his eyes and felt a flutter in her stomach. He was a beautiful man. She wouldn’t say it to h
is face, but he was the very antithesis of rugged. He was tall and broad, with that cowboy swagger. He had a shaggy head of dark hair that was often hidden under a cowboy hat and a dark, unkempt beard.

  To others, perhaps he wasn’t outwardly attractive. He looked gruff. But Shelby had seen the photos of him throughout the house when he took care of himself. According to his photos, he used to have short brown hair, a sexy square jaw, and no beard to speak of. Stubble, but no bushman beard.

  She found him attractive. She couldn’t help it. But staying for dinner after caring for his kids all day seemed like she was treading a dangerous line.

  “I can’t,” she laughed awkwardly.

  “Stay,” Isaiah said, drawing out the word in an adorable Southern drawl. “Please, nanny!”

  She looked down at Isaiah’s adorably chubby cheeks and found herself getting weaker. Her eyes met Colt’s, pleading for some backup, but he shook his head with a smile.

  “One dinner,” he said. “Unless you really, really, really want to go. Otherwise, one dinner isn’t going to kill you.”

  “Alright,” she relented, feeling her chest swell with heat. “One dinner.”

  Chapter Seven

  Colt

  It was early morning, and instead of running into work early, Colt had opted to head out to the Carrin farmer’s market and place orders with some of his favorite vendors for an upcoming wedding at the ranch.

  He could easily have placed the orders over the phone, but Carrin was a small town, and it meant a lot to the suppliers for a big business owner like himself to come and do it in person.

  Plus, it gave him some time to clear his head. He had the opportunity to get lost in the crowd and sample some fresh produce.

  He was going to bring the kids with him, but Eleanor was fussy this morning, and Shelby suggested they stay home with her.

  As awful as it sounded, bringing his children somewhere with him was not one of Colt’s first instincts these days.

  Being without Amma made it difficult to think about spending time with the kids. They had been more of a responsibility to him than a joy since her passing.