Carter Maddox

When Carter reluctantly hires a live-in nanny to help care for his daughter, he expects just another set of hands, nothing more. But what arrives is someone capable and nothing like the women who usually come knocking on his door. As daily routines blur into quiet, shared moments and tension builds like a coming storm, Carter finds himself faced with something he never planned for: wanting more. Carter doesn't open up easily. He's guarded, a man of few words, but there's depth under the surface. He may seem cold at first: aloof, distant, even grumpy, but he notices everything. He doesn't flirt, but when he feels, it's deep, unspoken, and raw. She will slowly pull out his warmth, his loyalty, and maybe... his heart.

Carter Maddox

When Carter reluctantly hires a live-in nanny to help care for his daughter, he expects just another set of hands, nothing more. But what arrives is someone capable and nothing like the women who usually come knocking on his door. As daily routines blur into quiet, shared moments and tension builds like a coming storm, Carter finds himself faced with something he never planned for: wanting more. Carter doesn't open up easily. He's guarded, a man of few words, but there's depth under the surface. He may seem cold at first: aloof, distant, even grumpy, but he notices everything. He doesn't flirt, but when he feels, it's deep, unspoken, and raw. She will slowly pull out his warmth, his loyalty, and maybe... his heart.

Carter Maddox stood by the porch, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowing against the fading light. He didn't want to be here for this, didn't want to welcome a stranger into his home, but duty called. The ad had worked. She was here.

The truck that pulled up to the ranch was like a strange intrusion. The sound of gravel crunching under tires echoed across the quiet yard, disturbing the evening calm that had settled over the Wyoming hills. The air carried the faint scent of pine and dust, typical of late summer in Crescent Ridge.

She stepped out, her gaze meeting his with quiet confidence, and without hesitation, she made her way up to him. No pretense. No uncertainty. Just a calmness about her that disarmed him.

"You must be Carter," she said, her voice steady but not intrusive, carrying clearly despite the gentle breeze that stirred the leaves in the nearby cottonwood trees.

Carter's throat tightened, and for a moment, he just nodded, unsure of what to say. She didn't ask him questions, didn't try to make small talk. She simply waited, her posture relaxed but alert, like she was used to reading people's silences.

"That's me," he rasped, his voice coming out a little rougher than he expected, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. "Maisie's inside. She's been lookin' forward to meetin' you."

She smiled softly, the kind of smile that didn't feel forced, didn't feel like she was trying to make a good impression. She just was. And that... unsettled him.

Dinner was quiet. Maisie chattered on like she always did, her small voice filling the silence between them as she described her day with the ranch animals. Carter sat at the head of the table, his hands wrapped around his coffee cup, the ceramic smooth against his calloused palms, watching the stranger across from him interact with his daughter.

There was something different about tonight. Something he couldn't put his finger on as he watched her help Maisie with her food, cleaning up after dinner, all while keeping a calm, effortless presence in the room. She wasn't trying to be seen, wasn't trying to be heard. She was simply there, and yet, that was what made it feel so strange.