“That’s my girl.” Paco lifted his John Deere cap off his head and ran a hand through his thinning dark hair. “I’ll have to give her a raise.”
Here was the opening Braden needed. But how did he go about telling Paco that he’d stolen his best employee away from him? Braden might not have his older brother’s business acumen, but he prided himself on being a straight shooter and an honest negotiator.
He supposed there was no other way than to just come out and say it.
“I hate to tell you this,” Braden said, “but I just convinced your daughter to jump ship. I offered her a better position.”
Instead of showing disappointment or raising his hackles, a slow grin slid across the store owner’s face. “As much as I hate to lose her, she’s a bright girl. I’m sure she’ll be an asset to your family’s corporation.”
Braden had never had anything to do with Rayburn Enterprises, his father’s business. And he’d never even wanted to. It was Jason who ran the business now.
“Actually,” Braden said, “I asked her to come and stay at the Bar M and be a temporary nanny for the kids.”
Elena’s father stiffened, and his grin morphed into that frown Braden had been expecting to see a moment earlier.
Paco was a good man, a family man with strict, cultural values. He probably had qualms about his daughter moving in with a single man at the Bar M, even if everything was aboveboard.
“She’ll have her own room,” Braden added. “And it’s just a temporary position.”
“Not that she isn’t good with kids, but my girl has her head and her heart focused on her future and she’s not easily swayed by smooth talkers or macho cowboys. How’d you manage to talk her into that?”
He’d bribed her, that’s how. He’d tempted her with more money than she could earn from her father in three months and then agreed to pay off her student loans—without even asking how much they were. Yet while his method might have made Charles Rayburn proud, something told Braden it wasn’t going to sit well with Paco Ramirez.
“I’m in a real bind,” he admitted. “And it’s just for three weeks. The kids staying with me don’t speak English. And with my Spanish being practically nonexistent, I’d be hard-pressed to order a beer with my dinner in Laredo on a Saturday night. So I need someone to help me look after them until my brother gets back to Texas.”
Paco took a look into the truck. Hadn’t he noticed the kids before? Had he thought Braden was pulling his leg?
“What’s Jason going to do with the kids?” the older man asked.
“Become their legal guardian, I suspect. We...uh...” He glanced in the cab, noting that the windows were up. While he knew the twins wouldn’t understand him anyway, Jason hadn’t talked about their situation in front of them—and Braden wouldn’t, either. “Apparently, my father had a secret family in Mexico. Beto and Maribel are my little brother and sister. Jason brought them to Brighton Valley, and I’m looking after them until he and Juliana get home from their business trip in Europe.”
Paco merely looked at Braden in awkward silence, as if this new twist in his paternal family’s notorious dysfunction was somewhat expected. Braden himself was a Rayburn bastard. He was used to the pitying looks the good people of Brighton Valley passed along to the unorthodox and ever-expanding brood of Charles Rayburn’s offspring by multiple women. Really, it should be no surprise that Elena’s father was too polite to voice his disapproval at the scandal.
So then why did he clench his fist like he used to when he was back in grade school and the kids used to ask him why his daddy lived with another family?
Elena was an adult and could make her own decisions, but Braden didn’t feel quite right about the way he’d orchestrated the whole thing. Trouble was, he was so desperate, he’d be damned if he’d put too much thought to it. Otherwise, he might try to backpedal on that job offer. And then where would he be?
“Looking after the kids won’t be her only duty,” he added. “I’ve also asked her to modernize my grandfather’s old accounting system. If I’m going to run the ranch right, I’ll need to have everything digitalized. And she’ll be a big help with that.”
Paco seemed to think on that for a moment, then said, “Elena is a good girl.”
Braden wasn’t sure where he was going with that. Or why his expression had sobered. “Yes, sir. I’m sure that she is.”
“Just so you know, I had a good relationship with your grandmother, Rosabelle Rayburn. And I knew your father.”
Damn. Did he think that Braden was a chip off the old block? It was true that he might resemble Charles Rayburn, but that didn’t mean he’d inherited his father’s character flaws.
He just hoped Paco didn’t think this was a ploy for Braden to get his single daughter alone and seduce her. Maybe he feared that the fertile apple didn’t fall too far from the scandalous Rayburn tree.
“All I ask is that you be good to my daughter and treat her with respect,” the man said.
“You have my word.” Braden reached out and offered a handshake to seal the deal. He didn’t have any qualms about making a promise like that to Paco. Trouble was, the older man’s words had struck him to the quick.
The truth of the matter was, as hard as Braden had tried to emulate his grandpa Miller, he wasn’t entirely sure how much of Charles Rayburn’s genes he’d inherited.
* * *
By the time Elena arrived at the ranch, Braden had practically paced a furrow in the front yard deep enough to plant corn.
Okay, so he’d just kicked up a little trail dust. Still, she was a sight for sore eyes—and in more ways than one.
She drove a small blue Honda Civic—nothing out of the ordinary. But when he saw her climb out from behind the wheel, his pulse rate shot up as though she’d just blown in on the Texas wind, holding a magical umbrella and a black carpetbag containing a spoonful of sugar.
Thank goodness she was finally here.
But damn. She’d changed out of the snug jeans that had molded her shapely hips and now she wore a colorful gypsy-style skirt and bright red tank top. Her dark hair had been swept into a twist of some kind back at the feed store, but it now hung loose along her shoulders in a soft tumble of glossy curls.
What do you know? His Spanish-speaking Mary Poppins had morphed into a sexy Latina beauty.
How could a lovely woman become even more beautiful in a matter of hours? She’d said that she couldn’t come out to the ranch until afternoon, when her father finished making deliveries and could finally relieve her at the store, but it looked as if she’d spent the entire time fussing with her hair, makeup and outfit.
Not that he was complaining. She’d mentioned that she had fashion sense, but he’d had no idea just how true that statement was.
“Where are the kids?” she asked, as she reached into the trunk and pulled out a suitcase.
“They’re on the back porch, playing with their rabbits.” He probably should offer to carry in her things, but for the life of him, all he could do was stand in the middle of the yard and gape at her like a moonstruck teenager.
Get with it, man.
As she proceeded to the front porch, she asked, “Are you having buyer’s remorse?”
“No, I want you here.”
She laughed. “I didn’t mean me. I was referring to those bunnies.”
Of course