A Blind Date With Her Cowboy Billionaire Boss Novel – Shelby looked toward the front door of the tiny apartment, willing it to open. When it remained locked tight, she wandered into her bedroom. Whitney’s apartment was right above the diner. It was a two-bedroom, one-bath with a large living room and a teeny, tiny kitchen. Shelby’s bedroom was painted a pale yellow and had a single bed and one dresser. She hadn’t taken much when she left Dallas. Not her furniture not even her dog. Her ex managed to keep those things, along with other precious parts of her life. Aside from her clothes, Shelby had been unwilling to open her carefully sealed boxes. That was her former life, she told herself. And until she was over the pain of the past, she saw no reason to return to it.
“Then why did you take the job, stupid?” she whispered to herself. She begrudgingly peeled back the masking tape that sealed one of her moving boxes and let out an audible, heavy breath. A shoebox of Polaroids was on top of the pile. She ripped off the tape sealing the tiny box and removed the lid. She had been a big proponent of the retro style film photos coming back into popularity, so it didn’t surprise her when a handful spilled onto the floor, practically exploding out of the box. Shelby picked them up, forcing them into a pile in her hands, and stared down at the haunting photos. Her first home. A little seventies bungalow she inherited from her parents after they moved out to New York state. Her first love. Andrew Clark.
He was tall and handsome. Italian, beautiful tan skin, inviting blue eyes, impossibly thick hair. Ex-best-friend. Ex-husband. Ex-love. Shelby met Andrew at the ranch where he worked in Dallas. It wasn’t nearly as luxurious as Brookside. Not even close. But it was a fun place to go on a Sunday afternoon. They often had little fairs there, and her father housed his horses there after they moved off their farm property and into the bungalow. Andrew was absolutely perfect. He was the most attractive person she had ever seen in real life. Not to mention he had a great laugh, an even better sense of humor, and genuine kindness that she hadn’t sensed in anyone before. He managed the stables, and she would always run into him when her father was there with the horse. The two of them hit it off. She was twenty-two years old when they began dating, twenty-three when they got married, and twenty-five when she gave birth to their son. Powell. Shelby grit her teeth.
She tossed a photo into the pile and continued to search through the box until she uncovered a little blue bib, laced with white trim and a deep blue whale embroidered on the front. “Hi, baby,” she said, feeling her throat tighten with emotion as the words left her mouth. Shelby brought the garment to her nose and inhaled the baby powder scent of the laundry detergent. She pressed the bib into her chest and held both hands over it, erupting in tears. Months ago, Shelby would have sworn she didn’t have any tears left to cry. But it seemed as though, like most things in her life, she was wrong. By the time Whitney came home, Shelby was just about ready for bed. She had long ago washed her face and slipped into her baggiest pair of pajamas. She had just been mixing up some hot chocolate when Whitney walked through the door.
Even though it Carrin was located by the water, it was by no means a cool area of Texas. The summers were scorching and dry, especially now at the beginning of July. But something about making things cozy in the house—lighting big candles, sipping hot drinks, getting in wrist-to-ankle pajamas—was comforting to Shelby. She stirred the hot chocolate with a teaspoon and added a dash of milk to the mug. “What are you doing?” Whitney laughed. “Making a hot chocolate,” she said. “Great, make that two,” Whitney said with a smile, exhausted as she slumped down on the sectional couch. “What about you? How’d the interview go?” “It went…interesting,” she said with a smirk. Whitney perked up at the mere suggestion of gossip and extended her hand to take the hot chocolate from her friend. “Okay,” Whitney said, drawing out her vowels.
“And what does that mean?” “I got a job!” Shelby exclaimed excitedly. “You got the job!” her friend repeated, equally excited as she cheered. “That’s amazing. Congratulations!” Shelby nodded and set her glass on the coffee table before taking a seat next to Whitney. She crossed her legs and turned on the cushion so that her whole body was facing Whitney. “Uh oh,” Whitney said with a hesitant chuckle. “What happened? You have your ‘I-have-something-to-tell-you’ look on your face.” “Which notoriously has not been a good look for me,” Shelby snorted. Whitney raised a brow and offered a well-humored shrug. “I wasn’t going to say it, but yeah.” Shelby inhaled a long breath and then nodded toward the console table up against the wall. Whitney followed her eyes to the table and let out a soft. “Aww, Shelby,” when she caught sight of the photo frame that was newly displayed. “I love it.” The photo was Shelby up against a fence in her parent’s backyard. She wore big black glasses, pulled her blonde hair up into a messy bun, and held a little baby in her arms.
“Little Powell,” Whitney said with the sugary tone one reserves only for babies and cutest of puppies. Powell wore a white onesie with a gray arrow pattern and had his wild, dark hair in a little fauxhawk. Powell was born at eight pounds, two ounces. Andrew had been by her side, cheering her on the whole time. She took no drugs and was only in labor for three hours. “You’re a natural!” her doctor had congratulated. “Oh, we’ll be back,” Andrew teased. “We want a big family.” Shelby cringed at the memory now. Powell had lived for exactly two months. Three months later, Andrew left. There were no more second chances between them. No more babies. No more family. This fact had been haunting her like a ghost. Her family—the entire future she had planned and made a reality for herself—was gone. Hiding from Powell, from the memory of him, was all she could do to stay sane.
She didn’t want to remember her pregnancy. She didn’t want to remember how her breasts filled with milk at the sound of him crying or the strong bond they shared. She didn’t want to remember family nights with Andrew or the way she felt so peaceful with Powell asleep in her arms. It had been too painful. But now, thanks to her new job, she had to stop running. “I got a job today,” Shelby repeated, unable to stare at the photo of she and Powell any longer. Whitney quickly took the hint: change the subject. “So you said,” she said with charming ease. “So, you’re going to be a stable wench?” “First of all, I’m pretty sure that is far from the official title and second of all, no, actually. I’m going to be a nanny.” Whitney blinked in surprise before her stare turned into a deeply wrinkled frown. “You’re what?” she enunciated. “I had my interview at Brookside today, and actually, it was with the owner.” “Colt?” Whitney asked, and Shelby nodded.
“And we got talking and, well, basically, instead of offering me a job at the ranch, he offered me a job as his nanny.” “Oh my gosh,” Whitney breathed, still processing. It sounded like she was stifling a laugh. “And you said yes?” “I mean, what else could I say?” Whitney swallowed audibly. “No?” “Well, I mean, if we’re getting technical, then technically, I paused for an uncomfortably long amount of time and then said yes, if that helps,” Shelby clarified. “Why didn’t you say something like, “Actually, I was under the impression I would be training horses or whatever. Not raising your kids?’” “Yeah, well, it’s a little awkward when someone is offering a job—” Shelby prattled awkwardly, then added, “A job that you need—and he—” “And he’s so cute?” Whitney asked with a knowing smile. “No.” Her friend made a face and crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side. “I mean, yeah, he is very attractive!” Shelby blushed. “But I don’t know. It was so awkward! When he offered it to me, I told him I was expecting to work at the ranch, and then he started talking numbers and all that.”
“Talk to me,” her friend said sweetly. “What are you thinking?” “I’m thinking…this is a bad idea.” Whitney nodded. “I’m thinking you’re right.” Then she glanced over to the photo of Powell on the table. “Are you ready for something like this?” “I don’t know. It makes me feel kind of sick to my stomach,” she said. It was the truth. “You need to call him and tell him you’ve changed your mind,” her friend suggested as she leaned forward to grab her hot chocolate. “I can’t. You should have seen him. He looked exhausted!” Shelby said, remembering what it felt like to feel swallowed by parenthood and its eternal lack of sleep. “He’s completely overwhelmed with these kids, and I guess his mom was down helping or something, but she’s headed home soon, and he needs—” “He’s a rich guy, Shelby. He may need a nanny, but he doesn’t need you. And look, I’m not trying to be negative about it or anything, okay? You know I think you’re a great mom. You’re an amazing parent, so good with kids. But, I’m just not sure it would be good for you.” “Right. I know,” Shelby nodded quickly, suddenly feeling lectured, though she knew that to be out of character for Whitney. “Or…” “Or?” Shelby shrugged.
“Or it could be great for me,” she said quietly. “How do you mean?” “Well, let’s start at the salary, and I do mean salary. I’m not getting paid by the hour; I’m getting a proper salary with benefits. Do you know how much that will help me?” Whitney nodded. “Outstanding financial debts left by the jerk of an ex-husband? Yeah, I’d say getting a real salary would be pretty amazing, at this point.” “Not only that,” she said meekly. “Maybe it’ll be good for me to be around little kids again.” “Shelby,” her friend began in that small, feel-sorry-for-you tone Shelby had come to resent. “I’ve been avoiding children like the plague since Powell died. And maybe it’s time I stop running from this. I used to love kids, Whit,” she said, trying not to get emotional. “They were my favorite part of my job.” “I know they were.” “I want my life back, Whitney. I want that joy back, and I think this could be healing for me.” “You know I’ll do anything to support you,” her friend said. “I just want you to be sure this is the best thing for you before jumping in.” Shelby paused, rolling the statement over and over in her mind. “Whitney,” she said, smiling. “I’m sure.”