She'd have to wait, but wasn't sure if she stayed in the car or sat on his porch.
She bit her lower lip and stared at the screened-in porch. With a roll to her shoulder, she unlocked the door and slipped out. She stared at the window and then lights came on. Colt must be awake. She gulped and stepped forward, but her heels sank into the mud. She closed her eyes and tried to shake her Prada shoes free. Her calves moved fine, and she tried to lift her toes to take another step, but the next step had the same problem. She was stuck.
She winced. He lived on a farm. She should have worn sneakers.
"You never learned."
Her ears heated just as her face did. She turned and gazed at Colt as he leaned against the door. Every cell in her body came alive as he sauntered over to her. His muscles blocked the moon setting in the distance as he came closer, and he set off a furnace inside of her. Colt reached around her waist and picked her up. Heat rose in her body, even as she lost her high heels to the mud. He ran his hands up her thigh, but then he dropped her on his front step. She rocked on her bare feet and held tightly to the two cups of coffee she had.
"Colt, thank you." She fixed her blouse and wobbled to balance on her naked feet. He reached her back and anchored her. She almost tipped over, then met his eyes. "I'd like my shoes back."
With a roll of his eyes, he left her on the porch and proceeded to retrieve the heels. Instead of handing them to her, he threw the muddied Pradas without care on his front porch. She took a step toward them, but he called out, "Get them later. You're not bringing that mess into my house."
Prada deserved better care. She inhaled to not make a scene, and then handed him the small cup of coffee. His eyebrows arched. She nodded at him, and he stared at the drink in his hands, his cheeks reddening. "Thank you."
Good. Surprise elements of kindness used to score her points with him, and it seemed it still worked. She sucked in her breath and tried to keep the conversation light as they walked through the door. The house was different than his mother's country style. With no paintings or floral accents, Colt went minimalistic and modern. "Where do you parents live these days?"
As he took a few steps closer, he lowered his gaze. "In a condo on the beach and Los Olas, but they are looking for something with senior activities. Mom and Dad need to relax, and gave me the place to raise Clara in a home."
The air smelled of oak trees and oranges again. He came closer to her, inches from her face, and she stepped away. The overwhelming sense of home invaded her every muscle.
Without a word, he passed her and walked into the kitchen area to turn on the sink. She pursed her lips, and he lifted his hands to show the mud on him. Then he washed his hands, though his gaze went to her legs. She squirmed, looked down, and her nose wrinkled as she realized her legs had the same mud. His brown eyes that stared at her left her breathless until he turned off the water. Then he said, "I expected you later in the morning. Don't princesses normally sleep half the morning?"
"When you called me that in high school, you didn't sound bitter." In a fast swallow, she stopped. She closed her eyes and reminded herself to be sweet. Today would go well. She blinked and opened her eyes, but stared at the ground. He stood still, and she shrugged. "I couldn't sleep at all, Colt. Is she up?"
As he walked around the kitchen counter and came toward her, he shook his head. "No. Clara gets up at seven."
Another whiff of oranges and oak trees. She licked her lips. "Is there some place I can clean up?"
Vicki saw a spark of the gentle guy he'd been before the Marines turned him into pure muscle. "Of course. The guest bathroom is this way."
He walked with purpose. The man raised his daughter with strict rules. At the door to the bathroom, she offered him a small smile, and asked, "Can I make us breakfast, then?"
His eyes widened, and she swore she saw fright. Then he opened the door for her. "You're going to cook?"
She stayed next to him. "Yes. I can cook for myself and others."
His shrugged, though his eyes betrayed how surprised he was. "I'm terrified. Go ahead. Get started and I'll grab a fast shower. Just don't forget you're the sitter."
"Of course." She grabbed his arm as he brushed past her. He stilled, and she tilted her head. "Thank you for agreeing to this start."
She leaned closer to Colt's strong jawline. He stepped away. "Clara's stubborn as a mule when it comes to getting what she wants. Don't think of hurting my little girl."
With a smile, she raised her hand and stroked his arm. "I won't. I'm glad she has you watching out for her. Whatever lucky star she was born under didn't let her get lost."
As he jumped to get away from her touch, his face darkened. "You can thank my mother for that one. She's the one who stood up for Clara and me that day."
She opened her mouth to defend herself, but the words didn't come out. "How did your mother know?"
"She saw the birth record in the nursery. You listed me as the father."
"I don't remember much. I was half awake, half dreaming during labor. Then the doctor said..."
"You told me. I'm trying here." He nodded at her. "You start breakfast. I'll bring Clara down. Remember our deal."
At least his mother hadn't done as Mitch Morgan intended. She mirrored his gesture and nodded. "I'm the nanny."
"Right." He walked away, and she stiffened her spine. She needed to steel her courage. Then she rushed into the bathroom to clean her legs. The mud was not a good first impression for her daughter.
A few minutes later, she ran into the kitchen, dropped her pocketbook on the counter, and headed straight for the refrigerator.
She heard his footsteps on the other side of his ranch house, but she didn't say a word. She gazed up at the loft, and wondered if he used that room as some sort of office.
Vicki took a quick glance at the clock; she had twenty minutes to prepare a feast. She found the potatoes and cut. Her jitters disappeared as she sliced. Her daughter deserved a good, healthy breakfast, and Vicki had been cooking breakfast for years now.
Ease returned to her shoulders. She chopped, and noticed the gorgeous brunette in the picture with Colt on the wall. The woman could be a movie star with those steely blue eyes.
The woman had height and muscles without being at all manly. With another swallow, Vicki assumed she must have been in the Marines, or a farmer, like Colt's family, to have won his heart. It wasn't the same woman from the pictures she was given years ago to prove that Colt would never love her.
A pain ran through her chest, but Vicki shrugged it off. She returned to the stove, shook her head, and stared in the mirror at her short blonde hair. She'd never be good at camping, never mind shooting anything.