Anything for His Baby Read online

  “A fancy way of saying old and run-down.”

  Paige sputtered, all the sympathy she’d had for Shep evaporating like mist on a hot summer day. “You are crazy. Not just for propositioning me to be your nanny, but for managing to be rude and offensive in the process.”

  “Facts aren’t offensive,” he said. “They’re facts.”

  “No.”

  “You don’t mean it.” He brushed a strand of wispy hair from Rosie’s cheek. “You can’t.”

  “I hate to ask but why is that?”

  “You’re my only hope,” he said, his voice so hollow it made her chest ache.

  She stood, paced to the front window and splayed her fingers on the glass, cool under her touch. One of the things she loved most about Crimson in the summer was the weather. It could be sunny and blazing hot in the midafternoon, but as soon as the sun set the temperature dipped, a welcome evening reprieve.

  “What do I get in return?” She pressed her fingertips more firmly to the glass.

  “I’ll pay you.”

  “I want more.”

  The slight creak of the rocker stopped, plunging the room into complete silence. “Why, Ms. Harper, are you propositioning me?” Shep asked after a moment.

  “Your ego is astounding,” she said, hating that her voice came out breathless. “I want you to agree not to tear down the inn.” She turned then, gratified to see the look of utter surprise on his handsome features. It would seem very few people saw fit to challenge Shep Bennett.

  “I can’t do that,” he stammered. “We need access on this side of the mountain.”

  “Then you need to find a different nanny.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek. Why was she trying to make this bargain? So what if Rosie liked her? Paige wasn’t a professional nanny. She was an innkeeper, or at least she was trying to be.

  Not for long, a voice inside her head cautioned, if you don’t have an inn to run.

  “I’ve tried,” Shep mumbled.

  “Exactly.” Warming to her off-the-cuff plan, Paige walked toward Shep and lifted the girl from his lap, cradling Rosie against her shoulder to avoid the wine stain. “Here’s the deal. I’ll agree to one month as Rosie’s nanny. In that time, I’ll interview, hire and train my permanent replacement.”

  Shep’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened like she’d just stripped down naked. Scratch that. No man had ever reacted with such obvious yearning to her body.

  “In return,” she continued, “you’ll agree not to bulldoze The Bumblebee and I’ll get to run it as an inn, at least through Christmas. If I’m successful, the revenue will give me enough money to buy the house from you.” She held up a finger when he opened his mouth to respond. “At the same price you bought it from my mother. Those are my terms. Agree or no deal.”

  As Shep stood, she backed up a step, her legs hitting the edge of the coffee table. He reached out a hand to steady her, and it felt like being touched by an open flame. Jerking away from his hold, she forced herself to meet his gaze. Despite her heated cheeks, she lifted her chin, unwilling to acknowledge the way he affected her.

  She had to be strong or Shep would walk all over her. Paige knew that for a fact because she’d been a doormat most of her life. Not anymore. Her grandmother’s house meant too much.

  “Deal,” he said softly, sweeping aside a loose piece of her hair much as he’d done with Rosie minutes earlier.

  Suddenly Paige couldn’t draw in a steady breath. She pushed the baby back into his arms, eliciting a soft cry from Rosie. “I think she’ll stay asleep.”

  “Probably,” Shep said, wrapping his strong arms around the girl. “We’ll work out the details tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” Paige agreed on a squeak, not daring to move until she heard the front door click shut.

  Then her knees gave way and she sank down to the edge of the old coffee table.

  No more doormat, she repeated over and over in her head, willing her body to return to normal. As mantras went, it was pathetic. Paige didn’t care. She’d just made a deal with her own personal devil, and she was going to need all the strength she could muster.

  Chapter Four

  Light spilled through the gauzy curtains in Paige’s bedroom the next morning. She squinted against it, cursing Shep for her lack of sleep. A bargain like the one they’d made shouldn’t be negotiated in the intimacy of a quiet night. It couldn’t possibly hold up in the stark radiance of a new day.

  It had been a ridiculous offer on her part. Yes, she wanted to save The Bumblebee. But what did Paige know about little kids, especially ones with psychological scars? Nothing. What did she know about hiring and training a nanny? Less than nothing.

  Oh, she’d been so bold with her demands. The thought of getting another chance to open the inn sent hope spiraling through her. But hope was a fickle companion as far as Paige had experienced. She stretched her arms above her head, curling her fingers around the spindles of her wrought iron bed.

  This room off the downstairs hallway had been her nana’s and very little had changed in it. The patchwork quilt, frayed at the ends, still covered the bed. The tall cherry dresser on the far wall now held Paige’s collection of colorful T-shirts and ubiquitous black yoga pants instead of the floral housedresses her grandmother had favored. The room was painted warm peach, Nana’s favorite color, although Paige would have preferred something more neutral.

  But there hadn’t been time in the past year for worrying about the decor of her personal space. She’d been too busy updating appliances, plumbing and electrical, and refurbishing the upstairs bedrooms along with the shared living spaces on the main floor.

  Her grandmother had closed the inn to guests shortly after Paige started college. The upstairs rooms had been shut up to save on heating, and Nana had confined herself to the main floor. Paige had visited a few times during semester breaks and after she’d graduated she’d made the long drive at least once a year. Each time, the stacks of newspapers in the dining room grew and eventually spilled over to the living room and front entry. There had also been collections of knickknacks and random boxes and wrappers piled everywhere.

  Paige had tried to talk to Nana about her habit of collecting miscellaneous trinkets and had urged her grandmother to clean out the unneeded stuff. But Nana was proud, and she insisted she needed everything that surrounded her. Paige’s mother was unwilling to get involved and refused to visit Nana, still bitter from the falling-out they’d had when Paige was a baby. Neither woman would speak about what had caused the rift, so Paige had always tried her best to mollify both the strong-willed women in her life.

  When they’d gotten word that Nana had died suddenly, Paige had been shocked at the state of The Bumblebee. The house that had meant so much to her as a girl had fallen into disrepair and the interior was so stuffed with junk that only narrow paths remained to allow movement through the once cozy rooms.

  “A hoarder,” Susan Harper had muttered in disgust. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she did this just so I’d have to clean up after she was gone.”

  Paige had been racked with guilt for not seeing what was happening with her grandmother. Nana had always been a bit of a pack rat, closets in the private areas of the house stuffed with odd and ends, but to think of someone living her last days surrounded by that kind of mess had made Paige feel horrible.

  Her mother wanted to hire a crew to clear out the house, then put it on the market immediately. But Paige had stopped her, one of the few times she’d stood up to her mother and pushed for something she wanted.

  She desperately wanted The Bumblebee. Not just to restore it as a way to honor her grandmother’s memory but because Paige wanted to show she could handle such a big project. She understood Nana had left the property to her daughter because she didn’t want to burden Paige. Even years of being cancer-free didn’t stop Paige’s family from treatin
g her like the sick girl she’d been in high school. She couldn’t afford to fail. There was too much to prove, especially to herself.

  With a sigh, she tossed aside the covers and climbed out of bed. Maybe she hadn’t handled things perfectly, but the repairs to the inn had been way more than she could have imagined. She pulled on a pair of shorts, a sports bra and an athletic tank top. She’d gotten in the habit over the summer of starting each morning with a hike on the trailhead at the edge of her backyard. No matter how much stress she had, an hour in the forest always cleared her head.

  She knew that if—no, not if but when—she opened the inn for guests that her mornings would be too busy to take time for herself, which made her mornings on the trail even more special.

  Grabbing a muffin from the counter, she padded to the back door where she’d left a pair of socks and her hiking boots. She laced them up then headed out the back, breathing in the fresh mountain air. The breeze still held a bit of a chill, but she knew the climb up the steep switchbacks would quickly warm her.

  It was difficult to keep her mind from wandering back to thoughts of Shep. It was hard to believe he’d honor his end of their bargain, even if she did manage to reopen, but Paige wouldn’t give up yet. She needed to call Sienna and some of the other friends she’d made in town. Emily Crenshaw, Sienna’s soon-to-be sister-in-law, might know some potential nanny candidates. Emily worked at the elementary school, along with Erin MacDonald, and both of the women were great with children. Paige would totally trust their instincts in recommending caregivers for Rosie.

  She was going to have to make it a priority so that she didn’t get too sidetracked from the inn. She almost had the website up and running, having chosen to create it herself instead of hiring the work out, mainly because she didn’t have the money for any additional expenses after her recent outlay of cash for repairs to the house’s main sewer line and the redo of the floor. The work had been completed just before her mom put the house on the market and had almost completely wiped out Paige’s meager savings account.

  She had a meeting next week with the chamber of commerce and another with an editor from a regional travel magazine. There was so much to do as far as a marketing campaign to attract guests and get the word out about The Bumblebee.

  But every time Paige tried to set a firm date about the reopening, panic consumed her. The same kind of anxiety as whenever she’d had a muscle cramp after finishing her cancer treatment. Then she’d worried she wasn’t strong enough to beat the disease and now she feared her mother was right and she wasn’t capable of running the inn on her own.

  In truth, she’d almost welcomed the delays in the renovations. Any reason to procrastinate was better than facing her fears. Shep was just another excuse. As angry as he made her, a tiny part of her felt relieved that the additional complication gave her an excuse if she failed. Hating her doubts, which made her feel weak and inadequate, Paige pushed herself as she climbed the trail, panting when she finally reached the overlook where she could see the town spread out below her.

  She only allowed herself time to catch her breath then began the descent. She jogged down the trail, concentrating on pulling in steady breaths and watching her footing on the rocky path.

  The trailhead came into sight again, and she sped up, sprinting out of the trees and across the backyard toward the house. She wasn’t much of a runner but pushed herself a little harder each week, needing to prove that her body could handle the exertion.

  She slapped her hand against the screen door then bent forward, hands on knees, gulping in air.

  “Tell me you aren’t being chased by a bear,” an all-too-familiar voice called from the side of the house.

  “A mountain lion, actually,” she answered, too out of breath to be startled by his presence. “Don’t worry. I outran it.”

  She straightened, still sucking wind in a most unattractive way, and wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. Shep walked toward her then stopped as Rosie squirmed in his arms.

  He placed his daughter on the green grass and she dropped to all fours and crawled toward a ceramic planter filled with geraniums. When she was next to the pot, she grabbed hold of the side and levered herself up to standing, reaching out a hand to touch the colorful blooms.

  “Do you like the flowers, sweetie?” he asked, crouching down next to her. His voice was soft and gentle, and it transformed him into a different man than Paige knew him to be. “They’re pretty just like you.”

  Rosie grinned and closed one fist around a red flower, yanked it off the stem.

  Shep grimaced and pried her fingers apart, petals drifting to the ground. “Let’s leave the pretty flowers for everyone to enjoy.”

  Rosie babbled something that sounded suspiciously like she was giving her daddy a stern lecture.

  Paige came down the steps, approaching them slowly. She was far too charmed by this pair. Shep wore faded jeans that stretched tight over muscled thighs and a plain navy blue T-shirt. His dark hair was damp on the ends, like he’d rushed over here directly after showering.

  The image of Shep in the shower caused her to stumble a step.

  “You okay?” he asked, lifting Rosie into his arms and straightening.

  Paige nodded, unable to speak. What exactly was she supposed to say? Oh, yes, I’m peachy. Just thinking about climbing you like a spider monkey.

  As Rosie made a sound of displeasure, Shep glanced from the bed of flowers to Paige, one thick brow lifted in question.

  She nodded again, and he bent to pluck a few of the dark pink blooms. He held one flower in front of Rosie, slightly out of reach. “We need to use gentle touches with the flowers.”

  When Rosie babbled her agreement, he handed her a stem. She stared at the bloom, fascinated like it was a kaleidoscope.

  A slight smile curling his lips, Shep began to sing, “If you’re going to Crimson, Colorado...” With two fingers he pinched the stem off another bloom and tucked the flower behind Rosie’s ear and sang of wearing flowers in her hair.

  Paige felt her mouth drop open. Shep had a beautiful voice, a rich baritone that made the melody of the old song sound like a caress. Good Lord, Paige was in trouble here.

  Rosie laughed as she reached up to pat the flower.

  “And one for you,” Shep said, handing the final bloom to Paige.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks as she took the offering, twirled the delicate stem between two fingers. Her chest tightened almost painfully, and butterflies took flight through her stomach. Ridiculous. The man had just handed her a flower from her own garden. There was no reason to react. It meant nothing.

  But Paige hadn’t been given flowers by a man since her senior prom, when her date had shoved a wilted corsage of pink carnations into her hands. No matter that the pink had clashed with the red of her dress or that she’d found out later that the boy had only asked her because his mom was friends with hers and he’d been given a month of gas money to take the “cancer girl” to her final dance.

  This was no different, she reminded herself, gazing down at the delicate petals. Shep wanted something from her, too. He was only here because...

  “Why are you here?” she demanded, her voice harsher than she’d expected.

  Shep’s head snapped back at her peevish tone, clearly unused to a woman who didn’t melt in the face of his charm.

  Paige concentrated on surrounding her heart with ice, like she was Mr. Cold Miser from the Christmas special she’d loved as a child.

  “Well,” he began, using his free hand to massage the back of his neck. “We’re moving in.”

  * * *

  Shep watched as Paige’s mouth opened and closed several times, and he imagined her as a petite mermaid washed onto shore and gasping for breath.

  Actually, his imagination had been going wild since the moment he’d rounded the corner of the house to see h
er racing out of the trees, a modern-day fairy bursting forth from the forest. Except instead of fairy garb, she wore a pair of running shorts and a fitted tank top that displayed her lithe frame, toned muscles and creamy skin. Way too much skin for his brain to handle.

  Rosie laughed, her lips smacking in an exaggerated imitation of Paige’s movements. Like Paige was doing a fish impression just for his daughter’s amusement.

  The parroting seemed to snap Paige to attention.

  “Not here,” she whispered, her narrow shoulders straightening. “You can’t stay here.”

  “The house is officially mine,” he countered. “And you’re going to be nannying for Rosie anyway. This will make it easier.”

  “Not for me.” Paige shook her head, and Rosie shook hers in return, wispy hair tickling Shep’s jaw. “You told me you’d give me time. I’m running a business.”

  “We won’t get in your way,” Shep promised.

  She pressed her lips together in a resolute line.

  “Please,” he said softly. “The apartment is awful. Our neighbors keep complaining. They hate Rosie.”

  “No one could hate Rosie,” Paige muttered.

  As if in reward, his daughter reached for Paige, diving forward like she had no doubt someone would catch her.

  Shep went to steady his hold on her, but Paige lifted the girl out of his arms first. “I’m a sweaty mess, little one,” she said then kissed Rosie’s forehead. Rosie leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder, and it once again amazed Shep that his daughter was so comfortable with the beautiful innkeeper when she barely tolerated other people making eye contact with her.

  “What were you doing just now?” he asked, inclining his head toward the edge of the yard.

  Paige smoothed a hand over her hair, which was pulled back into a tight ponytail high on her head. “I went for a hike,” she told him, bouncing Rosie gently on her hip. “I like to jog down the trail on the way back. Makes me feel more in shape than I am.”