Chapter 5
Brooks
I’d been in plenty of situations that involved moving my life from one place to another—cattle ranches, rodeo circuits, even that one summer where I lived in a camper behind a state fairground—but none of those moments came with the added pressure of meeting a pint-sized firecracker who might just decide whether I got to keep my new job.
Three duffel bags. That’s all I had.
It felt almost too small a pile for something as big as moving in with someone—well, not someone exactly. Annie. And her daughter, Ruby. A package deal, she’d made that clear from the jump.
I stepped up onto Annie’s front porch, snow dusting my shoulders, and rapped on the door with my knuckles.
It swung open faster than I expected.
Annie stood there, cheeks pink from the cold, hair loose and a little wind-tousled, looking every bit like the kind of woman small-town Christmas songs were written about.
A sweater the color of green, soft and cozy, draped over her frame.
She had this way of smiling like she knew exactly how much of it to give before leaving a guy curious for more.
“You made it,” she said, stepping aside.
“Unless I accidentally walked into the wrong house, yeah.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was a twitch of a grin there, too.
I dropped my bags by the door and rubbed my hands together. “So, where’s the boss?”
“The boss?” Annie echoed, one brow arching.
“Ruby. I know she runs a tight ship.”
“She’s in her room. Let me go tell her you’re here—”
She didn’t even get the sentence out before a stampede of tiny feet came pounding down the hall.
A blur of red plaid pajamas and wild, curly hair rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt in front of me.
“You’re the clown,” Ruby said, her tone so matter-of-fact it made me laugh.
“Rodeo clown. Big difference.”
I was more than just a clown. I’d started on the back of the bulls, riding the wild animals as my full-time job. It wasn’t until I decided to retire that I started the second gig.
She tilted her head, clearly weighing whether to believe me. “Do you wear the face paint?”
“Nope. Not today. This is my day-off face.”
Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look like a clown.”
“Guess I’m just gonna have to prove it to you,” I said.
She crossed her arms. “Do a trick.”
Annie made a quiet noise of warning from behind her, but I was already pulling a balloon from my back pocket.
“You came with balloons in your pocket?” Annie asked, sounding half impressed, half incredulous.
“Never know when you’ll need one,” I said, blowing it up with practiced ease. My hands twisted it into a lopsided dog, which I held out to Ruby like it was a prize.
She stared at it. “It’s ugly.”
“Good thing you’re brutally honest. Keeps me humble.”
Her mouth twitched, like she was fighting the urge to smile, but she tucked the balloon under her arm anyway.
I saw the flicker of amusement from her face and noticed the way she patted the top of the balloon dog’s head, indicating she didn’t really think it was ugly.
I knew I’d find it in her room on display later.
“So… do you sleep in a bed or a tent?”
“A bed,” I said.
“Do you snore?”
“Sometimes.”
Ruby turned to Annie. “Where’s he gonna sleep? In the attic? In the garage?”
“Guest room,” Annie said firmly, but I caught the hint of a smile she tried to hide.
Ruby’s gaze flicked back to me. “Do you eat vegetables?”
“Only the ones shaped like french fries.”
That got me my first honest laugh from her, and I silently chalked it up as a win.
Annie leaned against the kitchen counter, watching us with that look again—half amusement, half something warmer.
I reached for one of my bags and swung it over my shoulder. “Mind showing me the guest room, kiddo?”
Ruby tapped her chin dramatically. “Do I get paid?”
“Nope.”
“Then no.”
I chuckled. “Tough negotiator.”
“Ruby,” Annie warned. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice,” Ruby said with exaggerated innocence. “I didn’t even tell him about the haunted closet yet.”
I froze mid-step and my jaw dropped in shock. I had to play into every one of her bits. That’s how you win them over.
“Haunted closet?”
Ruby’s eyes widened in mock seriousness. “Oh yeah. The last babysitter who stayed in there ran out screaming.”
I shot Annie a questioning look, but she was biting her lip to keep from laughing. “You’re just gonna let her scare me off?”
“She’s testing you,” Annie said. “If you can survive her, you can survive anything.”
I followed Ruby down the hall, her curls bouncing with each step. She pointed at the guest room. “Good luck.”
The room was cozy—small bed, warm blankets, a dresser, and a window that looked out over a backyard where snow was already piling high. I set my bags down and turned toward her.
“So, Ruby… are we cool?”
She tapped her chin again. “We’ll see. You might be okay.”
“Guess I’ll have to earn my place.”
Her footsteps pattered away, and I was left grinning like an idiot.
Annie appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning her shoulder against the frame. “She’s… a lot,” she said softly.
“She’s great,” I replied without hesitation. “Sharp kid.”
“She’s sharp enough to scare off half the people who’ve ever tried to babysit her.”
I shrugged. “I’m not most people.”
Her lips curved just slightly, and for a second, the air between us felt warmer than the rest of the house.
“Dinner’s in an hour,” she said finally. “We’re having chili.”
“I like chili.”
“Good. Because Ruby’s the one who picked it.”
I laughed. “Guess I’ll tell her it’s the best chili I’ve ever had.”
“You might actually mean it,” Annie said, pushing off the doorframe and heading toward the kitchen. “She’s surprisingly good with a crockpot.”
I watched her go, noting the way her sweater brushed against her hips, the sway of her ponytail.
Maybe I’d signed up for a temporary holiday gig. But standing there, in a warm little house that smelled like Christmas, with a stubborn kid who called me a clown and a woman who smiled like she was holding back secrets… I was starting to think this might be the best bad decision I’d ever made.