Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy (Wrangler Creek: The BAD BOYS of Iron Stallion Ranch #3)

Chapter 1

TESSA

The ballroom hums with the low drone of voices, the kind that makes me want to claw at my ears.

Rows of suits—navy, charcoal, black—file into their seats with the smug assurance of men who’ve never had to fight to be heard.

Lanyards clack against each other in a rhythm of small talk and big promises.

The air smells like burnt coffee and ambition. Overhead banners swagger with slogans: SECURE. SCALE. DOMINATE. They make me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

And then there’s me.

Pink hair, leather jacket over a pencil dress, scuffed boots instead of stilettos. I don’t blend in, and I don’t want to, but in rooms like this, standing out isn’t power; it’s a target painted between my shoulder blades.

On paper, this is supposed to be my moment. The software presentation is mine—my code, long nights, and fingerprints all over it. This should be a proud moment, but instead, dread coils tight in my gut because of what I’ve just found out. Someone has tampered with my work in the worst way possible.

I shift in my chair, eyes flicking to the stage. My boss, Richard Kane, is laughing too loudly at some inside joke with the VP of Cyber Defense Solutions. My stomach turns. He doesn’t care if the code works, only if it sells.

I remind myself why I’m here. Twenty-three, one of the youngest cybersecurity analysts AegisTech has ever hired, hungry enough to outwork every person who’s ever looked down on me. They may think I’m just a pink-haired distraction, but I know the truth: I’m better than most of them.

If only I didn’t have to fight my own company to prove it.

Right before the presentation starts, I catch Richard in the narrow hallway behind the stage. He’s fiddling with his cufflinks as if he’s the star of the show, not the fraud about to sell a broken system to the highest bidder.

“Richard.” My voice is sharp enough to slice through his self-importance. “We need to talk.”

He doesn’t even look at me at first, just keeps smoothing his tie, smirking at his own reflection in the glass door. “Not now, Tessa. I’m about to make us a lot of money.”

I stand my ground. “No, we need to talk about the demo.”

He glances at me, raises an eyebrow. “Everything looks fine, Tessa. What’s wrong?”

I grit my teeth. “Everything isn’t fine. Someone—you, I’m assuming—has tampered with the software. The vulnerabilities I left in for testing? They’ve been deliberately left in the build. Backdoors. Potential exploits. You know exactly what that means if this goes live.”

He sighs, a practiced, dismissive sound. “Tessa, relax. This is business. We can’t have you running around scaring clients. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Fine?” I snap. “Do you even hear yourself? If anyone digs deep enough, they’ll see it. We’re handing them a time bomb.”

The system has been left vulnerable; these aren’t just cracks—they’re chasms. And if anyone in this room has half a brain, they’ll see it too.

His face hardens into a glare as he steps closer, his breath thick with coffee and mint, his voice low. “You listen to me. You’re here to make me look good—that’s your job. Not to embarrass this company with your paranoia.”

I stiffen. “Paranoia? I’m telling you the truth. The system is faulty. You’re going to put the company and me at risk. If anyone finds out about these backdoors, it could lead to a scandal, and I’ll be the one held accountable because my name is on the code.”

He leans closer, voice dropping, almost teasing. “Tessa, my dear, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and focus on looking professional. You’re young. You’re lucky to even be in this room. Don’t overplay your hand.”

My pulse spikes, hot rage clawing at my throat. But then, like twisting the knife, he adds, “And don’t worry about presenting. I’ve given it to Matt. He’ll deliver it better.”

The words land heavier than any insult. My project. My sleepless nights. Handed to someone else as if I’m nothing.

“Matt? That dickwad doesn’t know the difference between Java and JavaScript,” I mock.

Richard’s face hardens. “Careful, little girl. You’re overplaying your hand here.”

I want to punch him for making fun of my age and my skills. Instead, I grit my teeth, clench my fists at my sides, and force myself to breathe. The real reason he gave Matt the job is that he’s a man, part of the boys’ club—a place I will never fit into.

“You’ll regret this,” I whisper, more to myself than him.

He laughs softly, already dismissing me. “I doubt it.” Without acknowledging me further, he pushes through the door, basking in applause as the spotlight finds him.

And me? I’m left in the shadows, choking on fury, promising myself that one day Richard Kane will pay for underestimating me.

I slip into the back of the conference hall, my jaw aching from how hard I’m grinding my teeth. Onstage, Matt is already holding court, his voice booming through the speakers as though he coded a single line of the system he’s bragging about.

The suits eat it up—all of them too busy calculating profits to notice the cracks under the glossy sales pitch.

And then my gaze snags on him.

He’s in the third row, off to the side, not in a suit, not even close.

A worn flannel rolled up to his forearms, dark jeans, boots planted wide as if he doesn’t care whose feathers he ruffles.

He looks rugged and out of place, watching Richard with the kind of steady focus that makes me wonder if he actually sees through the performance.

He doesn’t take notes or whisper to the guy beside him, just sits there, arms folded, broad shoulders relaxed as though he’s got all the time in the world.

My heart annoyingly stutters. He’s handsome—there’s no denying it. Strong jaw, sun-browned skin, hair cropped close but not military neat. There’s an edge to him, something rough that doesn’t belong in a polished tech summit.

I drag my eyes away, scoffing under my breath. He’s just another distraction, a good-looking man I don’t have time for. At least not tonight. Not when my career is dangling by a thread because Richard decided to steal and ruin my work.

I focus back on the stage, but the image of him lingers, stubborn as smoke.

AegisTech concludes their presentation, and if the applause is any indication, it’s a resounding success.

They have no idea they’ve just been sold a faulty system.

Richard soaks it in, shaking hands, basking as if he just walked on water.

Matt grins widely as he collects business cards like candy on Halloween.

As for me, I’m invisible, standing aside, discarded, meaningless.

All of a sudden, the room feels suffocating. I need to get out of here. I turn toward the exit, already desperate for air, when Richard’s voice cuts sharply. “Tessa, a word.”

I stop, my stomach sinking as he motions me back toward a shadowed corner of the ballroom, away from the stragglers still lingering.

He doesn’t waste any time digging into me.

“What the hell was that earlier? Cornering me right before one of the biggest moments of this project? Do you have any idea how unprofessional you looked?”

Me unprofessional? How about you and your stupid minion?

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I was trying to stop you from lying to a room full of executives.”

His smile is knife-thin. “Lying? No, sweetheart. That was selling.” He straightens his tie, lowering his voice as if he’s scolding a child. “You want to be taken seriously in this industry? Learn your place and stop making me look like I can’t control my team.”

Heat creeps up my neck. I fold my arms, hoping it hides how my hands shake. “It was my project, Richard.”

“Was. Now it’s the company’s project. And if you don’t like how I run things, maybe you’re not cut out for this level.” He leans in, his voice dropping into a sneer. “You’re lucky I don’t pull you off the roster altogether.”

The humiliation burns hotter than my anger. He’s not just stealing my work; he’s making me the problem. Again.

I swallow the scream lodged in my throat, meeting his smug eyes with every ounce of steel I have left. “You need me. You’re not going to get rid of me.”

His nostrils flare, eyes ablaze with fury. He knows I’m right. I’m one of the few people with half a brain at AegisTech. He wouldn’t even have something to sell were it not for me. He hates that I know my worth, but he still tries to conceal it.

His laugh is short, cruel. “Watch me.” Then he’s gone, off to charm another suit, leaving me raw and vibrating with rage.

I stand there, trembling, until the weight of it tips. Fine. If he wants to humiliate me, I’ll humiliate him back. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow. But one day. Soon.

For now, I’ll settle for something smaller, something immediate. A little revenge to take the edge off. I pull the company card from my pocket and slide it into my clutch. I’m only supposed to use it for business-related purchases, but I’m feeling petty. Richard Kane can pay for my drinks tonight.

I stalk through the corridor, boots striking hard against the polished floor. Each step pushes Richard’s smug grin further behind me, but not far enough. My fists are clenched around the slim strap of my clutch, company card tucked safely inside.

I round the corner too fast and slam into something solid, jarring enough to make me stumble.

“Shit, sorry,” a man’s voice says, low and steady.

I look down and freeze. It’s the same guy I was checking out earlier, but.

.. he’s in a wheelchair, broad shoulders filling the space above the armrests, one hand raised as if he might catch me if he could.

He looks even more out of place now, but with an air of calm around him, as though colliding with me barely registered.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you,” I apologize, a bit too briskly.

His mouth quirks into an almost-smile. “It happens. I should’ve slowed down.”

His voice carries that steady drawl, the kind that sinks into your skin—quiet but impossible to ignore.

He’s not from here, and not just because of how he’s dressed; his accent gives him away.

It’s giving southern charm as compared to the Washington DC dicks I’ve been forced to hang around with all day.

For a second, my anger wavers. There’s something about his eyes—dark, assessing, as if he sees more than he should. But I can’t afford to stop. Not now. Not when everything in me is already cracked open and raw.

“Yeah, well... watch where you’re going,” I mutter, already sidestepping him. My pulse trips, though I can’t tell if it’s from Richard, the collision, or the man himself.

He watches me go—I can feel it—but he doesn’t call me back. I dismiss our interaction as a missed connection. A blip. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as I shove through the doors toward the bar.

The bar sits tucked into a quieter corner of the hotel—low lights and polished wood, trying too hard to feel exclusive. My heels click across the floor as I slide onto a stool, toss my clutch onto the counter, and exhale the weight of the night.

I wait.

And wait.

The clock ticks loudly in my head. Richard’s smug laugh still rings in my ears, while the sting of humiliation burns across my chest.

Five minutes of sitting here, and there’s still no bartender. I drum my nails against the counter, patience shredding fast. How fitting. First my project, now even a simple drink gets stolen from me. A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. Enough!

I slip off the stool, push open the half-door at the end of the bar, and step behind the counter as if I own it. Rows of bottles gleam under soft amber lights, labels like jewels lined up in perfect rows.

“Fine,” I mutter, fingers closing around a tall bottle of bourbon. “If no one else is going to take care of me tonight, I’ll damn well do it myself.”

The cork pops with a satisfying crack. I grab a glass and splash in a reckless pour. The first sip burns—smooth and sharp, heat curling down into my belly. I close my eyes, savoring it, letting the fire chase away the sting of Richard’s voice.

When I open them again, the world feels a little steadier. A little more mine.