He secured the base of the car seat in the back seat of his truck and snapped the carrier on top. Wyatt waved his arms and kicked his legs, which indicated excitement and happiness, and Nash eased out a sigh. He didn’t need a crying baby right now.
He drove into town and pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. He fished his crumpled list from his front pocket—formula, baby food and diapers led the necessities. He’d buy enough for the week and send Jaycee on her way with the extras.
Ducking into the back seat, he released the car seat from the base and swung it by his side as he made a beeline for a shopping cart. He secured the car seat to the cart and wheeled it in for a shopping trip like no other.
Wyatt didn’t like shopping. He fussed the entire time, and after Nash made it through checkout, he rolled the cart out the front door at breakneck speed. He got halfway to the truck before the wailing started.
He swiveled his head around to make sure nobody thought he was harming Wyatt, but no one seemed to notice the crying baby.
He stationed the cart by his truck and opened the back door to get Wyatt inside. “Hold on, buddy. Almost there.”
“Do you need some help?”
At the sound of the woman’s voice behind him, he jerked up, hitting his head on the door frame. “Ouch!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Nash twisted around and his gaze met a pair of green eyes, slightly turned up at the corners, like an amused cat’s.
He rubbed the side of his throbbing head. “I’ll live.”
Wyatt had stopped crying and squirming during the conversation, allowing Nash to snap the car seat into place. He pulled his head out of the truck, taking in the rest of the person who belonged to those eyes.
The green tank top she wore coaxed a different color from her eyes, which she blinked, as a strand of red hair floated across her cheek. He had the inappropriate urge to brush that flaming lock back from her face.
Her full lips flattened into a straight line. “You might live, but it still looks like you need help.”
He gritted his teeth. He’d taken care of this baby for three days with no help from anyone. Why did this woman assume he needed help just because he was a lone man with a baby?
He patted Wyatt’s chubby thigh. “He’s good now.”
“Maybe he is, but he’s facing the wrong way.”
“What?” Nash’s eyebrows shot up. “Facing the wrong way?”
“He’s under a year old, right?”
His heart racing, Nash flicked a glance at Wyatt and back to the woman’s face. Even in his current panicked state, he noticed the sprinkling of freckles across her nose. How old was Wyatt? He didn’t have a clue. He must be under one if this woman assumed he was.
“Y-yes, under one.”
“Well—” she reached past him, brushing her arm against his and releasing the car seat “—he needs to be facing backward.”
She unlatched the base of the car seat, twirled it around and snapped it back in place, Wyatt now pointing to the rear of the truck.
“Oh, yeah, right.” Nash’s cheeks warmed. Why hadn’t Jaycee put that detail in her instructions? Probably because she’d intended to come back before he had a reason to take Wyatt out in the truck.
Where the hell was she?
The stranger put her finger to her lips. “I won’t tell your wife you messed up.”
“I don’t have a wife.” Nash blurted out the words before they registered in his brain. He didn’t owe this woman an explanation, but for some reason he didn’t want her to think he was married.
“Oh.” Her reddish gold eyebrows formed a V over her nose. “I—I just assumed... Uncle? That would explain the car seat gaffe.”
Nash’s jaw tightened.
“I’m so sorry.” She put a hand to her chest. “I don’t mean to pry. I have a thing for babies. I’m a nanny.”
Chapter Three
Emily held her breath for a split second as Nash Dillon’s impossibly blue eyes widened.
She continued in a rush. “I specialize in babies. So, when I saw you struggling and then noticed you had the car seat facing the wrong way, my natural instincts took over.”
“A nanny?”
Nash’s gaze flicked over her, head to toe, and she hoped the calf-length floral skirt, the modest tank top and the flat sandals suggested responsible nanny type.
Nash glanced at the baby in the car seat, now facing the correct way, which Emily knew about from being a cop in another life.
She wiggled her fingers at little Wyatt, and he gurgled back at her through the disgusting drool on his chin.
Nash’s blue eyes lit up like someone had goosed him—not like she wouldn’t want to try that. “Are you working here in Paradiso?”
Emily turned down the corners of her mouth. “I’m currently unemployed. I live in Phoenix and took a trip down to Tucson to visit a friend who’s in grad school there and decided to take in Tombstone and a few other sights before heading back home and looking for a new position.”
The handsome Border Patrol agent studied her face. Then he uttered the words she’d been holding out for. “I might need some help for a few days, if you don’t mind working on your vacation.”
“I’m always interested in helping out with babies.” Had she laid it on too thick? Did people actually say things like that? Crazy people.
“I’d of course need some references, and your name would be a start.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t work for anyone who didn’t do a thorough check.” She pulled a newly minted business card from the side pocket of the purse strapped across her body. “Emily O’Brien.”
Whenever she used a fake ID, she went with a good Irish name to match her mother’s side of the family and her own red hair. Best to stay as close to the truth as possible.
She held out the card pinched between
