Single Dad Needs Nanny: Sheriff Needs a Nanny. Alison Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ into the water, where five colorful ducks fought over the soggy meal. Mickey giggled and clapped and the whole process repeated.

      She had their meal spread over the red gingham tablecloth Trace had included. They could have sat at a picnic table, but Trace wanted the full picnic experience. And Mickey had more freedom to move around on the ground.

      “Dinner’s ready,” she called out.

      Trace waved, and a moment later joined her on the makeshift blanket. “This looks great.”

      “You put it together. I just laid it out.”

      “Yeah, all my favorites.” He settled Mickey between them and put a bib on him.

      “Let’s give him a few grapes to start out, and I’ll feed him after we’ve eaten.”

      “Good idea.” He took a big bite of ham and turkey sandwich.

      She went for the pasta salad and some apple slices and watched him eat. She owed him an apology, and it was going to take more than the chocolate-chip cookies to salvage her conscience.

      She didn’t know where the conversation had gone so wrong the other night, but she knew it was her fault. Her bluntness landed her in awkward moments. When would she learn the virtue of tact?

      Trace deserved his privacy, to grieve in his own way, to make peace with himself, or not, in his own time.

      “I’m sorry.” The apology came out strong and crisp, the sincerity clearly evident.

      But it didn’t come from her.

      Trace met her gaze over the napkin he used to wipe his mouth. “You were trying to help and I jumped all over you. It was uncalled for, and I hope you can forgive me.”

      “Only if you forgive me first. I had no right—”

      “Stop right there. Never apologize for caring. Not to me, not to anyone.” His vehemence startled Mickey, and the boy’s chin wobbled until Nikki smiled and tickled his cheek. Mickey grinned and popped a grape in his mouth, happy again.

      “Being in the military, in law enforcement, I’ve seen more situations than you can believe that would have been cured simply if someone had cared.” He peered into her eyes until she had to blink to escape the intensity in his. “From the beginning, I’ve told you things I’ve never spoken to anyone about. It’s because it’s there in your beautiful eyes—a genuine sense of caring.”

      He thought her eyes were beautiful. “Trace, I’m not some rare creature. Lots of people care.”

      “You’re more rare than you think. Look at Mickey.” They both focused on the baby, who’d snagged a cookie while they’d been talking and was smeared with chocolate from eyebrows to chin.

      Nikki groaned. Now, there was the picture she wanted her boss to see right when he was telling her how attentive she was. Oh, well.

      “Kiddo, you’re a mess.” She leaned over and kissed a clean spot on his cheek. “But you taste good. I might just eat you up.” He giggled, and she laughed with him.

      Gathering him into her lap, she looked around for the diaper bag. Once she’d located the bag, she found the wipes. “Sorry about that. I’ll have him cleaned up in a snap.”

      Trace took the wet wipe from her and went to work on Mickey’s face himself. Mickey giggled and wiggled, trying to dodge his father’s efforts. Trace met her gaze over the boy’s head. “This is what I’m talking about. A month ago he wouldn’t have even touched the cookie, and now look at the fun he’s having. He was despondent and sad and now he’s happy.”

      “You have as much to do with Mickey’s transformation as I do.”

      “Not nearly.”

      “You’re wrong. He recognizes he’s safe with you. Your steadfastness and the routine you’ve set give him necessary boundaries. He’s thriving in the environment you’ve created.”

      “I wish I believed that.”

      “You can. Before you know it he’ll be challenging those boundaries, but that’s okay, too. In fact, it’s great, because it means he trusts you.”

      Doubt played over his features as he leaned back on his hands and kicked his long legs out in front himself. “I still say you’re the miracle-worker here. Mickey adores you. I’m totally second string.”

      “Not true.” The man needed some strokes. “Mickey isn’t the only one that’s come a long way in a month. You’ve made strides, as well.” She gently touched his fingers where they lay on the blanket. “He loves you, Trace.”

      A flash of longing crossed his features before he shut down all emotion. Such a strong, self-assured man. His lack of faith in himself broke her heart.

      “I’ll prove it,” she said, and turned to face him on the blanket. “We’ll put Mickey in the middle and let him choose who he goes to.”

      Lifting Mickey from her lap, setting him at the top of the blanket facing the two of them, she prayed this worked. She believed Mickey loved Trace, but he also cared for her. The truth was he could go either way.

      She scooted back a few inches as Trace moved into position opposite her. He rested his hands on his knees and looked at her. “It’s all right if he goes to you.”

      Mickey sat plump and happy at the edge of the cloth. He looked at her. She smiled and subtly nodded toward Trace. Mickey took the hint and turned his green gaze on his dad.

      Yes. Relieved and excited, Nikki held her breath. He was going to choose Trace.

      But he didn’t. Back and forth went his little head. A frown began to pucker. Uh-oh.

      “It’s okay, baby boy.” She softly reassured him.

      “Hey.” Trace shook a finger at her. “No trying to sway him from the sidelines.”

      Rolling her eyes, she said, “You are such a guy.”

      The scrutiny he leveled on her was all male. “Never doubt it.”

      Fat chance of that, she thought, feeling the potency of him shiver through her. She never forgot he was man to her woman.

      At that moment Mickey rolled to his knees. Nikki tensed, urging him with her mind to crawl to his father.

      He didn’t.

      But he didn’t come her way, either.

      He headed straight down the center, toward the chocolate-chip cookies.

      “Oh, no, you don’t.” Trace swooped Mickey up.

      Nikki laughed. “Look at that. He’s already a diplomat.”

      “That’s my boy.”

      Standing in front of Trace, Mickey immediately started in on his new favorite thing, jumping. Pumping and pushing, he squealed in joy. With his new diet he’d put on some weight and become СКАЧАТЬ