by Mari Carr
“Dad would never…” She cut off with a wince. Actually, he might. When it came to her safety, not even Daddy or Mom would be able to talk the pillar of Compton Pass down.
“Exactly. So do this the right way. Report these fuckers. Then they’ll never hurt another girl again, either. Please?” Clay soothed her. From his heavy visual exchange with Wyatt, he simultaneously sent the other man a message. “It’s important to have the scene documented.”
The most imposing cowboy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Whatever Clay had silently told him must have worked. Wyatt leaned over and braced his palms on his knees, staring at his friend as if inspecting the other man for damages. Just as Clay and Boone had done for her.
“I’m good, Wy. It’s okay. We’re all all right. This is Hope Compton. Not…” He stopped at Wyatt’s wince. His gentling reminded her of the way her daddy, Colby, could settle her dad, Silas. The cowboys were right. Her father would freak. He’d probably tear apart half the state looking for these creeps if she didn’t put off her selfish needs for just a bit longer. If justice didn’t reign supreme, he’d be tempted to administer cowboy law.
She could hang in there.
Long enough to file a complaint with the sheriff. Her uncle. “Shit.”
Boone laughed. “Uh huh.”
“I’ve never heard you curse before.” Wyatt smiled. The unexpected sunshine from the too-serious man dazzled her. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, but they’d passed each other in line at ranch barbeques and had exchanged hellos when she visited Jade in the barn. Enough for him to notice her conservatism, she guessed. Wouldn’t take much when compared to her cousins. Even Sienna was more fiery. “I like it. Naughty is cute on you.”
How could anything look adorable on a roughed up woman? Ugh. Somehow Wyatt had seemed to understand she’d never needed to feel even a tiny bit attractive more than right now. His intuition lent his suggestion more credibility.
“Call him.” She couldn’t manage more around the lump in her throat. Not to mention the split and puffy lip that grew two sizes by the second.
Hope relaxed, curling into Clay’s chest. She had to prepare for the whirlwind about to descend on them all so she could shield her trio of saviors. Her family could be…overbearing. The heat and protection of Clay’s hold made it easy to surrender to the bone-deep exhaustion filling in behind her ebbing fear.
“That’s right. You close your eyes. Lean on me and forget everything else for a bit. We’ve got you.” He carried her to a dark leather couch across the balcony and sat with his back to the rest of the club. His broad shoulders blacked out the commotion beginning to boil nearby as word of the altercation spread.
Hope’s fingers restlessly kneaded the solid pectorals beneath her hands. She didn’t realize what she did until Clay’s groan startled her from her trance. When she looked up, she was surprised to find them not alone. How long had her mind wandered?
Wyatt stood guard while Boone directed traffic.
A wince restarted the warm trickle of blood down her chin when Wyatt barked a demand for Sherriff Compton. The voice-activated feature of his phone responded in a hurry.
Before she could change her mind, her uncle barreled down on them all, en route to the bar.
“So you want to tell us what sparked that shitstorm before Sawyer shows up?” Clayton tried to straighten her hair. His fingers didn’t tug even when they encountered a snarl. Patiently, he worked the knots loose, putting her in order.
Hope sat up a bit, trying to avoid staining his shirt until she realized bright red speckles had already marred the light blue of his soft cotton. Not to mention the ragged tear in his other shoulder. She made a mental note to replace his ruined clothes.
“John was my boyfriend.” She rolled her eyes when Clay shot her an incredulous glance. “I know. Feeling pretty stupid about that. Still, not as dumb as I feel about admitting to him, here, that I intend to try a ménage someday.”
Before she could blink, Wyatt appeared at her side. His hand cupped her cheek and tilted it up so she couldn’t help but stare into his sympathetic face. “Not everyone understands that kind of relationship. Like your parents have. You have to be careful, Hope.”
“But you do?” She looked between Wyatt and Clay. Then to Boone, who nibbled on his bottom lip. “You get it?”
“We should.” Clay interjected when Wyatt sputtered. “Since the three of us gave it a shot. We also know it’s nearly impossible to last like that. For us to find that perfect guy or girl to make us a trio that won’t kill each other…well, I don’t know if it’ll ever happen.”
Hope blinked a few times. “Really?”
Sure, her parents argued every now and then. Never about anything serious, and never for longer than it took for them to kiss and make up. But Wyatt? And Clay? And Boone?
Wow. She honestly had never guessed.
Boone turned away. She wondered again what he’d been doing upstairs alone if they’d come as a unit. Or were they a pair and an ex? Or maybe three exes? The permutations were more difficult for her to contemplate at the moment than calculating the therapeutic index of a particularly complex drug.
“Yeah. It isn’t as easy as your parents make it look.” Clay murmured to her. A sigh raised and lowered her on his shoulder. “A relationship between two people is tough enough. Add another layer and… Yeah. We’ve only dreamed of getting all that in harmony for long. It’s a nice thought, though.”
A million questions raced through her mind. She might have asked them if Wyatt hadn’t rendered her speechless by tugging his black T-shirt over his head and tossing it to her. Washboard abs proved Jade right—he had the nicest body she’d ever seen on a guy. Including movie stars. Okay, well, she hadn’t seen many others unless the ranch hands counted.
In her estimation that gave her enough experience to appreciate his spectacular physique. A shiver wracked her.
His pupils dilated at her reaction but he otherwise ignored it. “Here. Put that on. One of the deputies just came through the door. Sheriff Compton can’t be far behind.”
Clay sighed as he relinquished his hold on her just long enough to help maneuver her sore limbs through the material of Wyatt’s shirt, which still radiated his warmth. It smelled amazing. Like soap and man and maybe hay. A flash of something—premonition, she supposed—granted her a glimpse of herself giggling between these two cowboys as they stargazed on a late spring night.
Every fiber of her being screamed, Yes!
“What is it?” In tune to her reactions already, Clay peered into her eyes. The concern and affection he leveled at her did funny things to her core.
Uh oh.
She knew.
Chapter Two
“Hope!” Sawyer Compton charged the loft of Two Left Boots. “Hope, where are you?”
Wyatt rushed to meet the man at the top of the stairs, glad they were on the same team. Facing off against the rampaging sheriff would have been extra unpleasant. He would have done it without hesitation for the pure girl nestled in his partner’s arms. “She’s over here. Clay’s got her.”
The sheriff’s face transformed before Wyatt’s gaze as the seasoned law officer canvassed the room. Stony, he took in the trash littering the floor. Then his mouth pinched and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he noted the blood soaking through Clay’s shirt. Finally, his countenance relaxed as he registered the three Compass ranch hands protecting his brother’s daughter.
When Hope peeked from behind Clay, the early signs of a shiner in progress were clear. Sawyer cracked his knuckles.
“They didn’t get much further, but I wish like hell we’d shown up a few minutes sooner.” Wyatt kicked himself for the distance they’d allowed Boone to shove between them. Honestly, he’d been relieved when the other man had opted to slum for a fuck buddy instead of sticking awkwardly by their sides. Their friendship might never recover from the mistake he’d allowed them all to make. That didn’t mean he didn’t root for the guy to
find what happiness he could. It had to be more than he’d gleaned from Wyatt and Clay.
“You did your best. Thank you,” the Compass Brother rasped to Wyatt without taking his stare from his niece. “I owe you boys. Our family does.”
Wyatt didn’t bother to tell the guy their actions had nothing to do with Compton clout and everything to do with the ghosts of his past paired with common decency. Never would he let a woman be brutalized again if he could stop it. Clay knew. Wyatt couldn’t survive failing another girl.
Like he had Kiri.
Taking his silence as acceptance, Sawyer strode around the sectional and crouched by Clayton’s knee. He held his arms out to Hope and muttered in a gruff tone, “Ah, baby. What did they do to you? I’m here. No one’s going to touch you again.”
The gorgeous girl in Clay’s arms sobbed. The dam broke and tears rained down her cheeks after dangling from her thick, curled lashes like diamonds. Shock and something like jealousy—toward Clay or Hope, he wasn’t sure, maybe both—speared Wyatt when she refused the solace her uncle offered and nestled closer to Wyatt’s man instead.
Whoa.
Sawyer Compton looked up, his raised brows making him appear as stunned as Wyatt.
Despite the power that radiated from the man all three cowboys in attendance respected, Clay didn’t hesitate. He embraced the young lady they’d admired from afar and supported her with the quiet sureness he’d granted Wyatt in the darkest hours of the night.
He knew just how tempting it was to believe in that relentless affirmation of peace ahead. It built confidence that the world would come to rights again soon.
Unlike Wyatt, Hope didn’t show her appreciation by fucking the shit out of Clay, though maybe she would have given it a try if her uncle hadn’t lingered a hairsbreadth away. The clench of her swollen fingers on Clay’s nape just before she buried them in his ultra-soft tawny hair gave her away.
Now this was trouble they didn’t need.
Because Wyatt felt it too. Something swirled between the three of them. Endorphins could account for some of the exhilaration storming his better sense. Not all of it, he suspected. Watching Clay melt, his restraint dissolving in the wake of Hope’s tears, Wyatt had to act.
He closed the gap between them and laid his hand on Clay’s other shoulder. While Sawyer studied them, he squeezed, reminding the other guy of his presence and where they were. Now wasn’t the time to find another stray to take in. How had that gone with Boone?
Thankfully, his partner stiffened. His caresses on Hope’s spine morphed into awkward pats. The woman sniffled and blinked. Those almond eyes of hers nearly cracked both him and Clay when she darted a wide, watery stare between them.
Damn, she was potent.
“I—I’m sorry.” The questions in her eyes at Clay’s sudden change punched Wyatt in the gut. It had to be better to stop this before it got started, though. No sense in misleading her. Certainly not when the stakes were so damn high. They couldn’t afford to lose their jobs. It would kill them to leave the place they’d come to love as if it were their own.
“You’re fine.” Clay tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. He likely couldn’t resist. Wyatt didn’t blame the guy either. “Just, maybe you’d better tell your uncle how this went down. Sooner you do, sooner you can go home.”
Mention of Compass Ranch and that cute little bungalow she lived in with her wild cousins made more moisture trickle from her eyes. She bit her abused lip, then nodded.
Hope couldn’t believe she’d survived the past hour. Or two, she supposed. Somehow the aftermath seemed worse than the attack itself at times. Embarrassment stained her cheeks all over again as she recalled admitting to Uncle Sawyer that she’d instigated tonight’s drama by blabbing her secret wish to the wrong guy. He’d only nodded, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before her mom came knocking at her door with some follow-up questions.
Ack. Mortifying. Relief mixed in with her dread, though. It might be nice to unveil her true aspirations to her mother, the one woman who could understand and offer advice.
Just not tonight, please.
She glanced at the mirror on the back of the passenger’s visor in Compton Pass’s ancient cop cruiser, which Uncle Sawyer called a classic. Whatever. She couldn’t help the giggle that rose in her at the sight of three badass cowboys smooshed together like ducks in a row behind the metal mesh dividing the guys from her.
Wyatt’s shoulders easily took up more than his fair share of the bench seat. His bare chest drew her attention and reminded her that she wore his shirt, while tree-trunk thigh pressed to Clayton’s from hip to knee where they both tried to spread their legs out. Poor Boone was squished into the minimal remaining space. He’d even had to remove his hat to fit.
Right as they turned into the gravel parking area in front of her house, a stab of pain in her cheek reminded her of the damage there. All designs of scurrying inside and tucking into bed without any more commotion were squashed when a booming call reverberated against the windows of the car.
“What the hell is this, Saw?” Her father marched up to the patrol car, peering into the rear of the vehicle as his brother climbed from the better-days Chevy. Hope averted her face, dodging the beam of the motion-activated light her Uncle Sam had installed on the Compass Girls’ home. “We came to bring the girls some leftover strawberry pie from Mom. They got awful twitchy when we realized Hope wasn’t here. I don’t know where the hell she is. They wouldn’t crack. Probably out all night with that weenie she’s been dating. And now you’re bringing me three dumbasses to deal with? What’d they do? ’Cause I’m not feeling very lenient at the moment. Give me a reason…”
In the rearview, she saw Clayton wincing. The ranch hands were trapped by the doors that only opened from the outside. Like fish in a barrel, they waited to be put out of their misery.
“Shit.” She gritted her teeth even as Wyatt chuckled. She thought she heard him murmur, “Still cute.”
Then she flung open her door and stepped from the car.
“Hope Elizabeth?” Her dad’s voice had that tone to it. The one that meant he teetered on the cusp of erupting. “What the—?”
“Hang on, Si.” Always the voice of reason, her other father offered her a chance to set things straight. She took it.
“Daddy,” she whispered as she stepped into the beam of brightness, which probably highlighted the damage like a stage spotlight. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Okay?”
“Jesus.” Colby blanched, his face seeming to glow in the shadows. For a moment, Hope thought he might get sick. Then he devoured the space between them with his long strides and ran his knuckles ever so lightly over her puffy cheek. “Little one, no. Someone hit you?”
“Don’t worry, Daddy.” She hugged him tight around his waist. “I punched him back. As hard as I could. Pretty sure there’s at least one guy who won’t be having kids anytime soon either.”
He chuckled, though the strangled sound held no amusement. “That’s my girl. We’ll get your mom out here to take a look. She’ll make sure you’re okay.”
Hope nearly lost it again when he rocked her in his gentle hold as if she were made of glass. She knew he wouldn’t trust anyone’s judgment but her mom’s. And not because she was a nurse.
“Your shirt. What are you wearing that enormous baggy thing for?” Her dad, Silas, clenched and relaxed his hands repeatedly before he could keep going. “What the fuck happened to your clothes? Somebody start fucking talking. Right. Now.”
Uncle Sawyer cleared his throat when her dad roared. “Maybe we’d better go inside, call Lucy. You know, settle down a minute before we dig into the details?”
It wasn’t that easy to derail Silas Compton.
“Did these little bastards dare to lay their hands on you?” Her father grew so still and so quiet, Hope wrenched from her daddy’s light embrace. With Colby gawking after her, she threw herself against the patrol car to keep her dad from destroying the wrong people.
“No.” She stared Silas straight in the eye and defused his mounting rage. Uncle Sawyer mimicked her refusal, but her dad only looked at her. “They fought for me, Dad. Bloodied their own hands to protect me when I got myself in trouble. Don’t you dare bark at them. Or worse. They deserve so much better. For sticking up for me when I was stupid.”
“Hope—” Uncle Sawyer tried to calm her. No use.
Now that she was home, everything seemed too much. The nightmare of the evening, her dashed dreams, and the intensity of the reaction to the guys penned in behind her… It was more than she could handle.
She turned and pressed her unswollen hand to the glass of the window as she bent at the waist to peer inside. Clay reached over and matched the gesture. She swore the pane heated between them. Wyatt’s eyes turned molten as he stared into hers, then clenched Clayton’s knee.
Linked, she smiled her goodbye with a nod to Boone thrown in. Then she fled.
“Hope!” Her dad bellowed, but she didn’t pause. As she stumbled up the stairs, she was glad to see her cousins and Daniel pouring from the front door. They surrounded her and drew her into their oasis, insulating her from the world outside.
At the last second, she stole a glance over her shoulder. Enough to see her father lend a hand to Wyatt as he unfolded himself from the patrol car. Uncle Sawyer did the same for Boone, then Daddy extended his arm to Clayton, clapping each man on the back as they joined their elders—bosses, mentors and idols—for what was sure to be a graphic debriefing.
God help her.
“Holy shit, Hope.” Sterling hugged her as they tottered across the threshold. “When you go bad, you really do it right, don’t you?”
Tears mixed with laughter as her universe tilted again, returning to somewhat normal. “Guess I’m talented like that. Can I tell you about it in the morning?”
“Go. We’ll try to deflect the Mothers. I’m sure they’re on their way by now.” Jade waved toward the stairs to their bedrooms. “Hurry so we don’t have to lie when we say you’re in bed.”
