Single Dad Needs Nanny: Sheriff Needs a Nanny. Alison Roberts
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a week of make do trips to the corner mini-market, Nikki finally dragged Trace to the grocery store on Saturday afternoon.
Pushing Mickey in one of the store carts, Nikki rolled over the threshold, and they both sighed at the rush of cold air.
“That’s much better, isn’t it?” She tweaked the boy’s nose.
“Neeki.” He grinned and made a grab for her nose, missing by a good eight inches.
She leaned closer and wiggled her nose. “Not going to get me,” she challenged, and quickly pulled back when he tried again.
Mickey giggled, but next to her Trace frowned. “You’re taunting a one-year-old?”
She simply smiled. “Oh, we’ve played this game before. He’ll get me a couple of times before we’re through.”
Trace grunted. He looked at the aisles surrounding them, the people wandering nearby. “Let’s get this done. I suggest we split up and meet at the register in twenty minutes.”
Nikki sized him up. Cool and confident in jeans and a blue knit shirt, he clearly didn’t want to be here. But it was more than the chore that had him off-stride. The man defined the term loner. In the week she’d been at the house she hadn’t taken a single message for him. She knew he’d kept Mickey’s existence to himself. Other than the doctor’s appointment, this was his first public appearance with his son in the community.
Well, he needed to suck it up—because, in the way of small towns everywhere, everyone would soon know his business.
“You’re out of almost everything, so we won’t be out of here in twenty minutes. And you ducked out of breakfast yesterday, so you have Mickey-time to make up and this is the perfect opportunity. If we split up, he goes with you.”
Trace shrugged. “Fine.”
His easy compliance didn’t fool Nikki. He was never comfortable handling Mickey alone. No one would know it, watching the two together. Though always gentle, always patient, Trace’s need for control kept him from letting his feelings show, or he’d have already earned Mickey’s love.
“Okay, then. He’s going to want things he can’t have, and touch everything within reach, so be firm and keep to the middle of the aisle.”
“Really, Ms. Rhodes, I think I can handle a one-year-old in a store.”
She lifted a skeptical brow. “That’s what you said about feeding him the first time.”
He planted his hands on his hips and met her stare for stare. “My point exactly.”
Nikki cocked her head and considered him. Peach-stained T-shirt aside, she allowed that he’d persevered until Mickey ate the whole bowl. Since then he’d mastered the art of feeding the child without wearing half the food.
“You’re right.” But before Nikki stepped back and let him have the cart she needed to issue another warning. “There’s one more thing—”
“Ms. Rhodes.” He cut her off. “I can take it from here.”
“But you should know—”
“We’ll be fine.” He took the list she held in her hand and tore it in two. “Meet you at the registers in twenty minutes.”
Nikki shook her head and walked over to snag a new cart. Oh, well. She’d only meant to warn him that a man alone with a child in a grocery store was a total chick magnet. Actually, that was true anytime, anywhere, but in a grocery store it rose to the level of speed-dating. Or so a single dad had once told her.
But then maybe that was what Trace needed. To meet a few eligible ladies. He’d been a widower for nearly fourteen months. And he had Mickey to think about.
He was a smart man. He probably knew exactly what trolling the store with Mickey would bring.
The two of them deserved some happiness after the past year of hardship. She turned down the juice aisle. So why did the thought of another woman in their lives sting Nikki in the heart?
Five minutes later she saw Trace and Mickey start to roll past her row, but when Trace spied her he made a quick turn. He stopped next to her and without a word transferred the items in her cart to his, before stepping aside and waving her into the driver’s seat.
She moved into position in front of Mickey, and assessed Trace out of the corner of her eye.
He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “That was just mean.”
“What?” She tried not to laugh at his disgruntled expression.
“Don’t play innocent. It doesn’t become you.”
She grinned. “I did try to warn you.”
“Yeah, well, next time I’m likely to be eaten alive by piranhas, make me listen.”
She rounded the corner into the meat section. He selected steaks, while she picked up some chicken and pork chops. Moving on to the dairy section, she dared to broach the topic of his love life.
“So you’re not interested in finding someone new to spend time with?”
He went still. “No.”
She waited for more, but it became clear nothing further would follow. She pushed. “It’s too soon? You must have really loved your wife.”
He avoided her gaze by reaching for a block of cheddar cheese. “What I felt for my wife doesn’t matter now. I need to focus on raising my son.”
“Of course. But you shouldn’t deny yourself a fulfilling relationship. A partner would be a benefit to Mickey, too.”
“And why is it you’re not married, Ms. Rhodes?” Those amazing green eyes swept the length of her and back up. Heat flooded her cheeks. Those eyes exerted the most astonishing effect on her. As if he saw clear to her soul.
“I’ve had offers.” But none worth giving up her freedom for.
“I’m sure you have,” he acknowledged. “Yet you remain single. It’s not a bad thing to know your own strengths and failings.”
“True.” And pretty deep. Had he gotten all that by looking into her eyes? Was her need for independence a strength or a failing?
Disconcerted, she turned down the next aisle and found herself facing an assortment of dog food.
Trace, following on her heels, asked, “Do we now have a pet I don’t know about?”
She cleared her throat and continued down the lane. “Don’t be silly.”
“I don’t know,” he mused with wry humor, “you’ve wrought such change in my household anything is possible. I can easily see you thinking Mickey needs a companion, followed by a trip to the pound.”
“I’d never do such a thing,” she denied, her chin in the air. “Not without discussing it with you first.”
He laughed outright. “Thanks for the concession.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who’d be walking the dog in the middle of the night.”
“I see how it is.”
She grinned. “We’ll just put the puppy discussion on hold for now.”
“Agreed. Mickey takes all my attention.”
“Hello! Hello, Sheriff Oliver. It’s Mavis Day, from the Historical Society.” A tiny woman with a helmet of blue-gray hair in a bright pink shirt rolled up beside them. A white miniature poodle rode in the child’s seat in a purple handbag.
“Of course. Mrs. Day,” Trace greeted the woman. “How are you?”
“Suffering from the heat, like most of the population. My Pebbles just can’t take these high temperatures. Just the thing to spend a bit of time