The Cowboy Billionaire's Nanny

Chapter 1

Lucy

My hands are shaking as I toss my duffel bag into the passenger seat of my beat-up Dodge Nitro and clamber into the driver’s seat. I fumble with the keys as I start the engine and tear out of the apartment parking lot.

The tears are hot on my cheeks, but I roughly wipe them away as I weave my way through town and then pull onto the interstate. I speed up to eighty, hoping there are no police cars around, and try to steady my breathing as I keep my foot on the gas pedal.

Breathe, Lucy, I tell myself. Breathe.

But I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe for a while. Not until I’m out of this state, at least. Maybe a few states. So I keep driving.

The lights of the city eventually fade then reappear as I pass smaller towns, smaller and smaller. And then there’s nothing but dark.

And I keep going.

Nothing but my headlights on the darkened highway. Leading me where? I don’t know. All I know is that I’m leaving it all behind. What awaits me certainly must be better.

I see a sign welcoming me to the state of Idaho, and later, a sign welcoming me to Montana. I don’t know how long I’ve been driving, I don’t know anything other than run.

My face is stained with dry tears, my limbs stiff and sore. But I don’t stop. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.

It isn’t until a ding pulls me from my worried thoughts and my dash blinks up at me, pleading for more gas. It pulls me back to reality. The stark and sobering reality that I don’t have the money to drive forever. I’ll barely be able to put twenty dollars in the tank.

I see that I’m coming up to a small town, so I pull into the nearest parking lot—a grocery store. The lot is dark and empty. When I glance at the time on my phone, I see it’s nearly 4 a.m.

For a moment, I let myself close my eyes and rest my head against the headrest.

Questions of What will I do? worm their way into my head, but I push them aside. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m no longer there.

I hop out of my car onto unsteady feet, spanning the distance of the parking lot and entering the brightly lit grocery store. There’s only one employee at the cash register, and she barely looks up when I enter.

I beeline for a bathroom, quickly using it and then heading back through the store. On my way to the sliding doors, a bulletin board catches my eye, and I stop, wondering what town I’ve found myself in.

I zero in on the name at the top of the corkboard. Cedar Ridge, Montana.

I haven’t heard of it. But then again, I’ve never spent much time in Montana. And the town looks small from what I’ve driven through so far. I’m about to leave when something else on the bulletin board catches my eye.

A job posting. But not just any job posting. One that includes room and board.

I step closer.

Live-in nanny wanted for three-year-old girl. Competitive pay, plus boarding at Thatcher Ranch.

I bite my lip. Nanny. While I’ve never done it professionally, I spent my teenage years as a counselor at summer camps—not to mention all the babysitting I did for friends and family. I love kids. And they typically love me.

That question comes to mind again. The one I’ve been ignoring for the past six hours. What will do you?

I glance around before snatching the paper from the corkboard with a snap.

I head back to my car, climbing into the backseat, locking all the doors, and pulling an oversized hoodie from my duffel bag. I put it on and curl up on the back seats, reading over the flyer again with the light from my phone.

A ranch in Montana. Nannying for a little girl. Maybe this is my escape. Maybe this is the place where my past won’t be able to find me.