by Elle James
“Right.” Jolie could kick herself. She knew all that. But she was a bit rusty, having lived in apartments since she’d left home. Maintenance had been someone else’s responsibility. “I can handle the flue if you don’t mind boarding the window.”
“No way.” Mad Dog crossed his arms over his chest. “Number one, you’d be an easy target on top of the roof. Number two, I wouldn’t know if you fell off the roof while I was down here working.” He lifted a board. “Tell you what—you help me here, and I’ll help with the chimney.”
Jolie wanted to put space between herself and the SEAL, but he was right.
He shot her a sideways glance. “You know I’m right.”
“Yeah,” she said. “But I don’t have to like it.”
His chuckle warmed the chilly basement air.
Another reason for her to put distance between them. The smoky sound of his laughter ignited a fire low in her belly. She hadn’t been that aware of a man in a very long time. If ever.
“I’ll need a pencil, measuring tape, hammer, nails and a saw.” Mad Dog sorted through the stack of lumber and selected a board large enough to cover the broken window. “If you have it, I’d prefer an electric saw, but if you don’t have one of those, the old-fashioned kind will do.”
Jolie hurried to her father’s workbench and opened cabinet drawers and doors until she’d located the electric saw, measuring tape, pencil, hammer and nails.
By the time she returned, Mad Dog had positioned a couple of sawhorses and laid the board across them.
Jolie plugged in the circular saw and set it down on the board beside Mad Dog.
“Thanks.” He measured the window, marked the board and cut what he needed. He handed the nails to Jolie. “Do you want to do the honors?”
She shook her head, refusing to take the nails. “You’re doing great. I’ll let you.” While he hammered the board into the window frame, she replaced the saw and the measuring tape in the cabinet, running her hand across the workbench.
She didn’t realize Mad Dog had finished until he reached around her to hang the hammer on the peg board over the bench. In the process, his chest touched her back.
Holy hell, he was warm, sexy and entirely larger than life. How would she ignore a guy like that?
“Was this your workbench?” he asked.
Jolie’s eyes stung. “It was my father’s. During the winter, when it was too cold to be outside for long, he’d come down here and make furniture or fix farm implements.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and ran her hand along the array of tools hanging on the pegboard. “He believed in every tool having a place and, when they weren’t in use, the tools would be in their places.”
“Sounds like an organized man.” Mad Dog laid a hand on her shoulder. “You must miss him.”
She nodded, that knot in her throat threatening to keep her from breathing. Again, she swallowed hard. “I couldn’t stay,” she whispered. “Not after he’d gone.”
“Is that why you left eight years ago?” he asked, his hand still on her arm, making her feel oddly comforted and tense at the same time.
She nodded. “Eight years is a long time. You’d think I’d be over it.”
“Some things you never get over.” His tone had taken on a harsher tone, and he dropped his hand to his side.
When Jolie looked up at Mad Dog’s face, it had hardened, his jaw appearing to be set in stone. “Did you lose someone you loved?”
Mad Dog snorted. “I lost someone. But I can’t say any love was lost between us.” He turned away. “Any idea where your father might have kept the chimney broom?”
She wondered who Mad Dog had lost, and why there was no love between them. Was it a parent? Or a spouse? Jolie led him to another part of the basement where a storage cabinet stood. Inside the cabinet were larger tools hanging from hooks. She selected the chimney brush and closed the cabinet.
“There should be a ladder hanging in the barn,” she said. “We’ll need it to get onto the roof.”
Mad Dog led the way up the stairs and toward the exit. He stood in front of the doorway, blocking her exit until he declared the coast was clear.
She let out a huff of breath. “I’m a trained agent. I know how to look for danger,” she muttered, finally stepping across the threshold and out onto the porch.
“Humor me,” the SEAL said. “I have to justify my job.” Then he winked and set off across the yard toward the barn.
“See? You agree. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“No, you don’t.” He stopped long enough to turn and face her. “But you need a partner to have your back.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Look out now—someone’s coming.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re testing me, right?”
“No, really.” He nodded toward the road.
Jolie spun, dropped to a kneeling position, and drew her gun from the shoulder holster, all in a matter of seconds.
Mad Dog stepped in front of her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Taking a bullet for you, darlin’,” he said.
“A bullet in the back, if you’re not careful,” she groused and rose, tucking the hand with the gun beneath her jacket. “It’s a pickup. Most likely someone from a neighboring ranch.”
The truck pulled to a stop in front of the house. A man and a woman got out. The woman reached into the truck and brought out a casserole dish, holding it with oven mitts.
Jolie chuckled. “They look really dangerous.”
“You never know,” Mad Dog said. “Most serial killers were mild-mannered pillars of their communities.”
“I know these people. They own the ranch to the south.” Jolie holstered her weapon and stepped around Mad Dog. “Tom and Sherry, it’s so nice to see you.”
Tom reached her first and held out his hand. “Jolie, you should have let us know you were coming. Sherry and I would have been out here sooner.”
Jolie took his hand. Instead of shaking it, he pulled her into a hug.
“We missed having the Richards next door.” Tom patted her back and released her.
“We heard from Mia at Bartlett’s Hardware that you were back in town,” Sherry said. “I brought a ‘welcome home’ casserole for you. I can’t imagine you’ve had time to fix up the kitchen to cook.”
“Thank you so much.” Jolie waved a hand toward the house. “You’re right. I just started to clean up the living area and bedroom. I haven’t made it to the kitchen yet. You’re welcome to come in, but I have to warn you, it’s a mess.”
“We don’t want to keep you.” Sherry headed for the porch. “I’ll put this in the kitchen.” The woman disappeared into the house.
“Do you need our help setting the house in order?” Tom asked, nodding toward the chimney brush.
“Thank you for the offer, but we can manage.” Jolie didn’t want anyone else near her place. She’d come to Montana to lure a terrorist away from populated areas. She didn’t want her neighbors to become collateral damage in a radicalized jihadist’s vendetta.
Tom glanced past her to Mad Dog.
Jolie turned toward the SEAL. “I’m sorry, I seem to have lost my manners. Tom Lewis, this is Caleb Maddox, my…”
“Fiancé.” Mad Dog slid an arm around Jolie’s waist and extended his other hand to Tom. “Jolie and I are engaged.”
Jolie stiffened inside the circle of his arm.
Tom shook Mad Dog’s hand and glanced from the SEAL to Jolie. “Is that so?”
“Is what so?” Tom’s wife emerged on the porch, carrying the oven mitts in one hand.
“Sherry, come meet Caleb, Jolie’s fiancé,” Tom said.
Sherry’s eyes narrowed, and then her eyebrows rose. “Her fiancé? Well, that’s news. When did this happen?”
Jolie’s cheeks reddened. “It was kind of sudden,” she said through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. “I’ve barely had time to process it.” Why the hell had the SEAL blurted out they were engaged?
&nb
sp; “It was very sudden,” Mad Dog added.
“Congratulations, Jolie.” Sherry held out her hand. “Show me the ring.”
Jolie clutched her hands together.
“It’s being sized,” Mad Dog said. “We’ll be sure to show you when it comes back from the jeweler’s in Bozeman.”
“Oh, I see. Well, still, it’s so nice to see you back, and with a fiancé. What a wonderful surprise.” Sherry looked from Jolie to Mad Dog. “Are you staying? Will you be living here?”
“No,” Jolie said.
“Yes,” Mad Dog said at the same time and laughed. “We’re still discussing options.” He hugged her to him. “Aren’t we, dear?”
“Yes, dear,” she replied, the smile hurting her cheeks.
“I’ve been checking the fences on your place since I’ve been running my cattle in your pastures.” Tom waved toward the pastures. “Let me know when you need them off. I can round them up whenever you say the word.”
“No hurry. It’ll be a while before I run cattle again, although I am looking for a horse, so I can check the fences myself.”
Tom smiled. “I’ll bring two over tomorrow. Will that be soon enough?”
“Why don’t you let us come over and get them?” Mad Dog said.
“Right.” Tom smiled. “You two will want to choose your mounts. I have four you can pick from.”
“Thank you, Tom.” Jolie turned to Sherry. “I’ll bring your dish back when we come.”
“No hurry on the dish. I hope you like chicken and rice casserole.”
“I’m sure we will.” Mad Dog smiled at the woman. “Thank you for bringing it.”
Sherry blushed and stammered. “We’ll s-see you tomorrow, then. Come on, Tom. Leave the two lovebirds alone.”
Tom didn’t seem as eager to leave but smiled at his wife’s command. “We’re glad to see you home, Jolie. Your father was a good man.”
Jolie’s eyes burned, but she held back the tears threatening to fall. “Thank you, Tom. He thought a lot of your family. I want to catch up on your son. Did he go to college? And your folks. Are they still in Florida?”
Tom nodded. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Let us know if you need anything.” He climbed into his truck, tipped his hat and drove out of the yard.
Jolie waited until the Lewises were out of the yard, and then she turned on Mad Dog. “Why the hell—”
He placed a finger over her mouth and leaned close. “We should get that chimney cleaned before dark.”
The touch of his finger to her lips made her nerves jump and her body flush with warmth. She had to catch herself to keep from puckering and, God forbid, kissing that finger.
Heat suffused her cheeks, but she didn’t have time to be embarrassed, because the next thing she knew, Mad Dog was dragging her by the hand toward the barn.
Once inside, Mad Dog paused. “Ladder?”
“Hanging on the far wall.” Jolie pointed.
Mad Dog handed her the flue broom, snagged the ladder from the wall and stepped back out into the late afternoon sunshine.
“Don’t think you’re going to get away without an explanation,” Jolie warned.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Did I not tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
He grinned. “I do things for a reason, but I don’t always explain myself.”
Jolie snorted. “Well, you better start now. Why did you tell them that you are my fiancé?”
“I’ll break my rule this once.” He sighed. “We needed a cover story.”
“I had one. You’re the one who didn’t.”
“True. So, I came up with one.” He puffed out his chest. “I think it works quite well.”
“Yeah, well don’t think you’re staying in the house. I’m still not sure I trust you.”
“After saving you from a potentially rabid raccoon, risking my life, you still don’t trust me?” He shook his head. “Woman, you’re a tough nut to crack.”
Jolie chuckled. “Fine. I trust you to take care of varmints. But you’re still staying in the barn.”
“I guess I have my work cut out for me.” He glanced around the yard and out to the tree line. “Come on, I don’t like standing still for long. It gives snipers too much time to lock in.” He carried the ladder to the house, propped it against the eaves and reached for the broom.
She held it away from his grasp. “You took care of the basement, I’ll take care of the chimney. That was the deal.”
All humor melted from his face, and his lips thinned. “On top of a roof, you’re an even easier target than on the ground. Let me do this.”
She hesitated, unused to having someone else doing the dirty work. But he was right. On the roof, she’d provide a distinct silhouette. “I’m not afraid of getting dirty. My father insisted I do everything he could.”
“Sounds like he was pretty hard on you.”
She shook her head. “Not at all. He was determined to teach me everything he knew. I think he expected me to run the ranch when he was gone.” She glanced away. “I don’t think even he expected to be gone so soon.”
“What happened to him?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “He was shot while out hunting.”
“Accident?”
Jolie returned her gaze to Mad Dog, her jaw tightening. “If it was an accident, whoever shot him never owned up to doing it.”
“And he was never caught.” Mad Dog’s words weren’t a question. His gaze studied her face. “You weren’t interested in running the ranch?”
“Not without my father. He was the life in this place. With him gone, I couldn’t do it. I’d already applied to join the CIA, expecting to be gone for several years before returning to help my father as he grew older.” She shrugged. “Plans change. People change. I couldn’t stay.”
“What happened to the livestock?”
“I sold everything that breathed. Horses, cattle, pigs, chickens. I didn’t have the time to auction off the farm implements. They’re in the barn. I imagine the rats and mice have eaten through cables. We had a tractor, a couple of ATVs and a truck. It would be nice if the truck worked. I’ll need something to haul hay and feed to the barn for the horses we’re borrowing from Tom. But for now, I need to keep the house from burning down.” She nodded toward the ladder. “If you’re going up, I’ll go inside and make sure whatever you shake loose isn’t alive and running loose inside.”
“Good idea.” He took the brush from her and started up the ladder.
“Ever cleaned a chimney before?”
Mad Dog chuckled. “Can’t say that I have.”
“Maybe I should do that after all,” Jolie said.
“How hard can it be?” He tipped his head toward the house. “Go make sure I’m not making a disaster of the interior.”
“Okay. Yell, if you need me outside to pick you up off the ground.” She waited until he was on the roof then she entered the house, a smile quirking the corners of her lips. She hoped he didn’t fall off the roof. He was far too good-looking to die on her watch.
Jolie gave herself a firm shake.
Don’t get used to having him around. He’s hired help and will be leaving as soon as the threat is gone.
The thought depressed her, but she pushed on.
4
After cleaning the chimney, Mad Dog stored the broom where it belonged in the basement, adjusted the heating ductwork to close the gap and secured it with duct tape. Then he loaded the mouse traps with peanut butter and set them out around the basement. He could hear Jolie banging around in the kitchen.
By the time he climbed the stairs, she had the kitchen clean and two place settings on the table with the casserole between them.
“Hungry?” Jolie asked.
“Starving,” he said, patting his flat belly. He glanced around the kitchen. Everything appeared dust-free and shiny. “You’ve been busy. Very domestic.”
She snorted. “Don’t think that’s normal for me. I’m much better
at the outdoors stuff. I don’t much care for cooking.”
“Lucky for you, I learned how to cook at a young age.” He didn’t tell her it was out of self-preservation. Nor did he tell her his earlier meals were made of whatever he could scrounge in the cabinet. His father usually drank his paycheck, forgetting he had a son at home to feed.
Mad Dog had mowed lawns and cleaned gutters for extra money to put food on the table. His dad had never showed him how to do anything, and he’d never thanked him for cooking or cleaning.
As soon as Mad Dog finished high school, he’d joined the military to get the hell away from his worthless father.
His father never once wrote him a letter or called him after he left home. The man had left nothing for his son, unless one counted all the bad memories that would fade, but never quite go away.
“My mother cooked wonderful meals before she died.” Jolie smiled wryly. “I didn’t get that gene.” She glanced across the table at him. “What was your family like?”
“Typical,” he said, without elaborating. What good did it do to dredge up his crummy past?
“Did your mother cook?”
“I don’t know. She was gone by the time I turned five.”
“Did she die of cancer, too?” Jolie asked softly.
Mad Dog snorted. “No. One day she was there, the next, she was gone. She gave no reason, just packed her bags and left.”
“That’s awful.”
He shrugged. “I really didn’t know her.”
“At least you had your father,” Jolie said. “Is he still alive?”
“No.” Mad Dog stared at the casserole, praying his partner would cease her questioning.
“Was he the cook?” Jolie persisted.
“No,” he said, through gritted teeth.
Jolie studied him for a long moment. “I get it; you don’t want to talk about your parents.” She served up a portion of the chicken and rice onto his plate, and then scooped an equal portion onto hers. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why don’t you want to talk about your family?”
His chest tightened, and his hands balled into fists. He hadn’t thought much about his parents until he’d seen how much it hurt Jolie to talk about hers. “You had a good relationship with your family. Leave it there.”
