by Nicole Snow
Relish an ounce of hope that I can end all of this, some way.
But Clay has men, loyal guns who’ll keep hunting us down for as long as he says.
I head for the barn. Despite the anger, the grief, the disgust living inside me, I have to grin at a shrieking crow that greets me.
I’d like to think that’s how Cornelius Pecker says hello.
The rooster flaps his wings, sitting on the top rail of Stern’s stall.
He belts out another heavy metal cock-a-doodle-doo! Just like he’s not sure that I’d heard him the first time.
Stern snorts and lays his ears back as he twists his long neck to shoot a dirty look at Cornelius.
“He’s just saying good morning, I think,” I tell Stern and then nod at the chicken. “Good morning to you, too, Cornelius.”
The rooster flaps his wings loudly and then struts along the rail. I’ve never seen a muscular chicken before, but this one looks like he could beat up every other bird in town.
Stern snorts again, thoroughly done with his crap, and I laugh.
This is Cornelius’ roost and apparently he’s not going to let anyone forget it.
He’s got his pride, I have to give him that.
I feed and water the horses and Cornelius, then open the wide doors leading into the corral. The snow has melted considerably. It’s actually starting to feel like what must pass for spring heat in rural North Dakota.
I walk out into the corral and around it, through the center, back and forth several times, looking for any icy patches that the horses might slip on. A broken leg would be a final straw right now.
The ground feels firm, but not slick.
So I walk back inside and let both Stern and Rosie out of their stalls. Their hooves clop the ground softly as they follow the fresh air blowing in.
As I’m following them into the corral, I look at Cornelius. “What about you, my man? Want to get a little sun?”
As if he knows exactly what I said, he flutters down off the stall and walks to the door with us, his long white tail feathers waving with each step.
Out in the bright sunshine again, I can’t help but appreciate the beauty.
Not just the sunny day, but the place itself.
It’s a gorgeous ranch.
Private, isolated, remote, and totally country despite the multimillion-dollar estate.
Anyone would feel safe out here tucked in their own little luxury island among the fields that must green up beautifully in the summer and the rolling hills in the distance. North Dakota doesn’t have the kind of sky-kissing mountains you find farther west, but it’s pretty in its own way.
A loud thud breaks my trance, staring off at the horizon.
I spin around, recognize Ridge, and try to act like he hasn’t just scared the bejeezus out of me.
He knows my cold, aloof statue thing is an act.
At least he doesn’t say it.
The look in his eyes tells me without words.
God. It’d be so easy to tell him what was truly going on when I freaked out on him in his office.
Well, maybe not easy, but it might be nice to share the weight, the burden, if only it weren’t my cross to bear.
Mine and Dad’s.
Not a reclusive movie star’s.
“I see Corny sweet-talked you into letting him outside,” Ridge says, arriving at the open doors leading into the corral. “Hope your ears aren’t bleeding too much.”
“I hope it’s all right,” I say, cracking a smile. “The horses need some exercise. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“No need. The rooster does what he wants, when he wants, and he’s happy to shout it from the rafters. This is his kingdom.” Ridge waves a hand back at the barn. “He’s got it made here, and he knows it. He’s not leaving and abandoning all of this for cougar territory.”
There’s a soft breeze blowing. I hold my face up, letting it wash over me.
I never imagined I’d want to be a chicken—a rooster, specifically—but what Ridge said is true.
Cornelius has it made.
Anyone who lives here has their own lovely slice of peace and quiet. It hurts my heart how rare, how unreachable that seems.
“How’s Nelson doing this morning?”
“He slept well last night,” I say. Then, because I’m so worried, I add, “I’m not sure if it’s the meds or if he’s...”
“What?” he presses, those blue eyes shifting a shade darker, soft seas to midnight blue.
“I don’t know. Getting worse. He slept almost all day yesterday and last night. That’s not like him.”
“The sandman’s a hell of a healer, darlin’.”
“I know,” I admit, huffing out a breath. I just can’t get past what the pharmacist said about pneumonia.
I’d searched the symptoms last night.
Dad has them all. He also has what seems like congestive heart failure, just like the ER doc suggested, and a whole conglomerate of other illnesses that made me bite my lip with worry.
“I’ve got a guy showing up here soon,” Ridge says. “No one to worry about. He’s a neighbor and a friend, part of the Dallas police. Drake Larkin.”
“Oh?” I’m sure he wants me to know so I don’t freak out, seeing a stranger around.
That’s thoughtful, but it also makes me feel like a complete nervous Nellie.
“We talked. I didn’t tell him everything, but he knows about those fucks and the SUV. He’s bringing over some surveillance equipment to help reinforce this place.”
My spine shivers. I glance his way, staring at his profile.
He’s incredible from every angle. The scattered light and darkness dancing across that corded, rock-hard body captures my attention, makes it way too hard to rip my eyes away.
Holy Toledo.
I chide myself for having thoughts like this in the middle of a situation that just keeps getting better by the day.
I’m only human, though. Sex has been the furthest thing from my mind for so long it might as well belong to an alternate universe.
Ridge is a man sculpted with a perfect hand that never touches most mortals.
A rich, powerful, built, and yes, freakishly kindhearted soul who makes me go to pieces because I can’t stand it.
Can’t handle being the one who’s hurting him, messing up his life.
Yesterday, when he’d hugged me in his office, I’d—I swallow.
Damn. It felt good, despite how pissed I was. So good, just being held like that, even when I went off on him like a crazy person for mentioning his mom’s ashes.
I owe him an explanation for lashing out like a crazy woman, but this isn’t the time or place.
He turns, catches me staring at him, and grins.
Welp, here comes the blush. Cornelius’ cherry-red comb isn’t the brightest thing here anymore.
I look away while I still can.
“You okay? All this talk about security isn’t too much, is it?” he asks softly.
I shake my head fiercely.
I’m...totally not fine.
“The house has a top-notch security system,” he goes on. “But I’ve decided to beef it up as a precaution.”
A familiar, crushing weight returns to my shoulders.
“Because of us,” I whisper, hanging my head.
“Because you’re staying,” he says, unabashed. “Because I need to spot any braindead goon stupid enough to step foot on my property so I can kick their asses to Egypt and back. That’s a long damn trip, Grace.”
I burst out laughing. He’s so ridiculous, but I love that it makes this kind of talk less than the fear-fest it’d be otherwise.
“Ridge—”
“Don’t tell me it’s not necessary, because it is, and my mind’s made up. You and your old man are crashing here for as long as it takes.”
Whoa. He’s all kinds of serious, judging by the hot glint in his eye.
He takes my hand, squeezes it, flooding my system with a new deluge of
mixed up emotions.
“I do have one favor to ask,” he says.
Part of me wants to laugh. A favor?
I owe him a hell of a lot more for everything he’s already done for us. And I guess if he needs to know more about Clay, about his minions, then maybe it’s time to put on my game face, get over the agony, and tell him.
“Sure,” I say. “What do you need?”
“The items you found in the shed and washed...I know you don’t have time to do everything you wanted to with them, but would you mind giving them to Tobin? Tell him what you had in mind?”
Frowning, because I’m ninety percent sure he’d only gone along with the whole redecorating scheme to appease my father that first morning, I give him a puzzled look.
“I mean...sure. That’s no big deal at all,” I say hesitantly. “But why?”
“Tobin asked me about it this morning. I know he’s a stiff, that’s just Tobin. But he’s also a shameless history buff. He saw everything in the cabin while checking up on you and Nelson and was curious. When I told him those were some of the things you were going to use to decorate the house with, he was...” He swallows what seems like a laugh and shakes his head. “Excited.”
I can’t help smiling with relief.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Tobin genuinely excited before,” he says with a chuckle.
I eye him critically, trying to figure out if he’s trying to appease me so I don’t freak out about the cop coming around.
No, there’s too much amusement dancing in his eyes.
I like this look a lot.
“I’ll do it tonight,” I tell him.
“Seriously,” he says. “Haul a box of that stuff in the house and you’ll see I’m telling the truth. Bet he rips it right out of your hands.”
“All right,” I agree, trying to imagine it.
Tobin seems kind enough in his own way, but he’s very standoffish. I can’t see him getting excited over anything, let alone a few old jars, crocks, and tack from an old farm.
Then again, I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.
The longer I stare at Ridge Barnet and those sneaky smiles that are impossible not to beam back, the more I wonder.
What if he’s everything I need?
It’s late the next day before I fully realize Ridge, once again, was right.
Tobin was excited about the items. He was even more excited about helping me carry in more of the things I’d set aside in the shed.
During the evening that followed and yet again today, the entire kitchen morphed into his own personal lab of sorts.
With meticulous care, he washed, dried and at times, repaired items I couldn’t get to or didn’t know how to fix, while I worked on drafting the best spots to display them. We barely stopped for lunch between talking and consulting each other on displaying the antiques.
Later, I make the latest of several trips to the cabin to check on Dad.
He’s finally awake. I’m not sure he even realizes he’s been out for the better part of a whole day.
“Don’t know why I’m so tired,” he says, lying back down in the bed after taking another big dose of medicine.
“Because you’re sick. Your body’s worn down, and you’ve been lacking sleep for months. The sandman’s a hell of a healer,” I say, repeating Ridge’s words from this morning.
“Come again?” His face jerks up.
“Uh, nothing.” My face heats. “Just a funny phrase I heard.”
“Well, whatever they put in that stuff helped the coughing. And the pain in my chest,” Dad tells me, rubbing at a drowsy eye before flopping back on the pillow with a heavy sigh.
“I’m glad something did.”
Words will never be enough to express how grateful I am.
“I’m still weak, but I bet by tomorrow...yeah, I’ll be ready to pack up and hit the road. Let me know what you find on the Google Maps, will you?”
Oh, no.
Without answering, I lean down, kissing his forehead.
“It’s nice of you to get more of that decorating done, too,” he says drowsily. “Maybe we’ll see this place in a few months, whenever we come back for Rosie and Stern.”
I wait until he falls asleep again, and then tiptoe out of the cabin.
Walking toward the house, I see Ridge now on the roof of the barn. I try to pull my eyes away but can’t.
He’s been working outside all day, putting up cameras and sensors with that other guy, Drake...
He’s been at it for hours.
Going through so much trouble, for me.
The nicest, most handsome, sexiest man alive—hardly an exaggeration considering who he is—and I’ve got him working his butt off trying to save mine.
I don’t know how this ends, but by the time I turn around, flicking my eyes away from Ridge’s silhouette on the barn, I’m determined.
I’m so not letting him put that brutally gorgeous butt of his in harm’s way.
Not if I can stop it first.
10
No Comfort (Ridge)
A smug grin tugs at my lips.
So far, I like what I’m seeing, clicking through the software that shows the locations of the cameras I’d set up today and testing each one. The program matches the app on my phone, but there’s something about testing everything behind a desk that makes me feel like a better watchdog.
Still, no point in getting too cocky.
Before totally accepting these damn-I’m-good accolades, I pick up my phone, open the app, and check to make sure every single camera works via phone, too.
Everything looks flawless.
Thank fuck for Drake.
It’d have taken me twice as long without his help, but I can’t deny the sense of accomplishment that comes with climbing around on roofs all day, meticulously wiring everything in, all for that little blonde stray of mine.
Nothing’s going to hurt her here.
I’ll turn this place into a fortress of doom before I let Jackknife and the rest of his clowns catch me with my pants down, or snatch Grace and her old man from right under my nose.
No need for a workout today, either. I got plenty of that doing installation on the house, cabin, storage shed, and barn.
That last one was dicey. The roof was still slippery from melting ice and steep angles unfit for a bird.
My calves are still stinging with a satisfied burn.
I’m damn glad Drake loaned me the climbing rope so I could tie myself off. It kept me from falling off the roof and snapping my neck.
I’m thankful for everything he brought over, really. I’d noticed all the cameras at his place last fall, the first time he invited me over for a beer.
“Old habits,” he said, and I knew exactly what that meant.
He’d kept their whole place wired up ever since the trouble with Jupiter Oil, a rival pack of dirty, backstabbing oilmen.
Nothing dangerous has come to Drake and Bella’s doorstep since then, but I’d be the last person to blame a man for being too careful.
I’m grateful he kept them now for a whole new reason.
The minute I called, asking him if he’d purchased them locally, he’d offered to bring the whole set over since they’ve had a good run of peace.
I’d happily accepted. Even with overnight shipping, I couldn’t have gotten anything else up and running this quick, and after what happened to Grace in that alley, speed is of the essence.
Those fucks could show up again anytime, right on my doorstep.
Now?
I’ll know it before they get within a mile of the house. Several miles if they come down the main service road. My place is on higher ground and I just gave it eyes.
We’re ready for them.
“Dinner call,” Tobin says, walking in through the open door. “I trust you won’t delay after the day you’ve had? Must’ve worked up a fierce appetite.”
“No way, I’m starving,” I say, just as my stomach growls like a b
ear.
“Missing lunch will do that,” he says, pedantic as ever.
“Huh?” Scowling, I push away from the desk and stand, stretching my arms high over my head. “I ate the sandwich you left on the front porch.”
“That wasn’t me. Miss Sellers’ offering,” Tobin says, stiff as ever. “She left it there without interrupting your work. Also, she agrees with me that you should’ve hired someone rather than climbing up on those treacherous roofs by yourselves. Even with an officer assisting, you could’ve gotten injured.”
“Tobin, Tobin. You realize it would’ve taken a week to drag some poor contractor out here from town to rig up cameras, right?” I laugh at him and secretly smile at the notion Grace made sure I had something to fill my gut.
“Perhaps. But perhaps you also realize luck has its limits, Ridge,” he says quietly.
I study him for a minute, never quite sure what’s going on behind this damn android-man’s glasses.
Of course, I’d seen Grace walking between the house and cabin today.
Every time, it made me feel good to know I was busting my hump for her.
I haven’t done anything like this since Afghanistan. Life hadn’t allowed it, and the one time I put myself in real danger after my discharge...that was about me.
Even while I was enlisted, I’d been serving my country.
That was plenty rewarding, but this is different.
This is all for her, a lovely young woman counting on me to keep her safe. A brilliant streak of sunshine who still won’t admit she needs me.
Somehow, that makes this insanity more intimate.
“Is she already here?” I ask.
When I’d come inside an hour ago, I’d gone straight to the bathroom downstairs after seeing Drake off and then to my office to check the cameras.
“She’s still at the cabin, I believe.”
“Aren’t they joining us for dinner?” I do a double take and instantly regret it.
I swear, I’m not fucking holding my breath over whether or not this lady wants to eat with us but...I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t.
Tobin looks at me over his frames.
“Her father requested soup for supper again, and she said she’d have the same herself. I believe she planned to stay with him for the night.” He turns, heading for the door. “I already carried their food over with some bread, fresh fruit, and a pie. In case they’d rather have a fuller meal.”
