Navy SEAL Protector

by Bonnie Vanak

  Her eyes opened and she pushed at his chest. “Stop it.”

  Stepping back, he licked his mouth, as if still savoring her taste. His heavy-lidded gaze met hers, and she saw it sharpen with awareness.

  “Trying to relive old times? Not going to work, Anderson. I’m not that same girl anymore.”

  A muscle ticked in his hard jaw. “I know. I lost control. Shel. You do that to me. This place...”

  He turned around, jamming a hand through his thick hair. “Too many damn memories.”

  She was one of them. But she wasn’t going to let him treat her like she had last time. Best to put distance between them.

  Shelby went outside to grab a breath of fresh air, her nerves more rattled by his kiss than she would ever admit. It wasn’t merely a kiss, but something deeper.

  Connection.

  Chemistry.

  Nick Anderson was the only man who’d ever charged her body like that. Sex with other men hadn’t even come close to the desire she felt with one kiss from Nick.

  One kiss that would remain just that—one.

  She walked around the cabin to the outcropping of rocks by the wood plume that once funneled water from the stream and spring. Henry had built a root cellar near the spring to store vegetables. Far as she knew, it still existed. It also served as a good tornado shelter if you were caught in the open.

  Or a good place to gather her composure, lost when Nick’s mouth had captured hers. Shelby climbed over a boulder and went toward the spring. A hundred feet from the stream bed was a door set in the ground. A rusty ring protruded from the boards. Fishing out her cell phone and using the flashlight app, she then pulled the door open and descended into darkness.

  The air was much cooler down here in the stone-lined cellar, and smelled faintly musty. Shelby ran her flashlight over the walls. Nothing here.

  Except there was something, over in that corner. She walked over to it, and the closer she got, the more her heart raced.

  Silas insisted on keeping nothing down here. Certainly never anything flammable.

  The sight of the red gas can made her blood run cold. She touched the plastic, smelled the faint fumes. Next to the can was a lighter.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. She looked up to see Nick peering down at her, his cell phone also used as a flashlight. Nick joined her and swore softly. “This isn’t for a barbecue. Or to light a fire in the cabin.”

  “No.” She rubbed her arms, suddenly very chilled. “You don’t pour gasoline on an interior fire.”

  “But you do use it to torch something very big.”

  Someone had been here very recently. And they planned to do more than vandalize the ranch.

  They planned to burn it.

  * * *

  If he ever needed evidence that someone threatened his family and his ranch, it was here, stored in the root cellar. Nick wasted no time calling the sheriff again. The cabin had decent cell phone coverage, thanks to a tower nearby.

  He kept an eye on Shelby as they waited for the deputy to arrive on the back hollow road. He didn’t like how pale she looked, the spark gone from those green eyes. He’d put the spark there with the kiss. Damn it, he hadn’t meant to do that, but she looked so pretty standing with the shaft of sunlight glinting on her hair, her mouth so soft and warm...

  Nick continued his search of the area. He found a footprint near the remains of the old mill, marked the spot with a cairn. If the cabin had been vacant all summer, he’d bet this was their culprit.

  Shelby sat on the picnic bench by the stream, staring at the gurgling water. She’d abandoned her search for Henry’s treasure after what they’d found. For a moment he stood, gazing at her. Forget the gold, here was a real treasure. Smart and strong, and all those curves, and her sweet mouth...

  Nick turned away from the temptation of her body. Part of him wished he’d never come home, forget the funeral and burial, for what good was it to regret not saying goodbye to Silas? Not when so much distance had stretched between them, an ocean of anger and bitterness because Nick hadn’t followed in his father’s footsteps and remained on the ranch to manage the family business.

  He’d carved his own way in life, made a career in the teams. Now he roamed.

  Nomad Nick, his friends called him. Never the same place four weeks in a row.

  The rumble of a car in the back woods alerted him. He went to the path cutting through the woods as the Nature County sheriff’s deputy walked through the woods. Nick’s stomach tightened.

  “Nick Anderson,” the man said, his drawl pronounced. “Hotshot hero finally came home. I’m surprised you’re sticking around after your father’s funeral.”

  “Jonah Doyle,” he growled. “Now I have a real problem. You’re it.”

  “Sheriff Doyle to you, Anderson.” The man’s gaze narrowed. “Where’s Shelby?”

  They walked up to the stream, where Shelby still sat at the picnic table. She scrambled to her feet.

  “Hey, Jonah.”

  “Shelby, darling.”

  A flash of jealousy shot through Nick. Jonah was a homegrown boy who’d stuck around, unlike Nick. Made sense Shelby would be on friendly terms with him. She’d probably waited on him a few times at the restaurant. The logic still didn’t calm the tightness in his guts. He had watched Shelby grow from a gangly, cute teenager into a woman with long legs and the kind of curves a man liked to trace with the palms of his hands.

  He’d never had trouble finding a woman to warm his bed. Any woman. But now he found himself wanting more with Shelby.

  Needing more.

  Not a quick bout of sex, love ’em and leave ’em, all parties satisfied. A flash of pleasure, and then pack your duffel and ride away, never looking back.

  More.

  Something more satisfying and lasting than a one-night stand. Hell, not just sex to take the edge off, but long, slow loving, exploring a sinfully delicious mouth, trailing kisses all over her body... Waking up to know she’d be lying next to him, her eyes all sleepy, her hair tousled and her arms eager for him as he rolled over to greet the morning in his own special way.

  But he wasn’t sticking around. Not him.

  Jonah was the kind of guy with his feet planted firmly in Barlow.

  Like Shelby.

  Nick suddenly felt like an outsider. Damn, on his own land, too.

  “This way,” Nick said curtly.

  He showed Jonah the gas can and the lighter, but the sheriff shrugged. “Silas might have stored it here and forgot to tell anyone.”

  Shelby bristled. “I doubt it. He was very careful when it came to anything flammable by the cabin.”

  Jonah’s expression remained guarded. “Sometimes old people get careless. And forgetful.”

  Nick didn’t like the cavalier attitude of his former high school rival.

  “There’s a footprint.”

  Outside, Jonah examined the print Nick had marked and shook his head. “Could be anyone. With those fences all torn down, maybe a hunter looking for squirrel or rabbit. Doesn’t mean much.”

  Small wonder he’d balked at calling the sheriff about the horse-apple prank.

  “You’re as useless as watered-down whiskey, Jonah,” Nick snapped. “Would a hunter store gasoline in the root cellar or cut up tack in the stables?”

  “Temper.” Jonah didn’t smile. “We know all about the vandalism. Silas had us look into it after the break-in at the house. We even patrolled a few times, but we can’t station a man here 24/7.”

  “So you aren’t going to dust for prints?” Shelby asked. “Because no one on this ranch stashed that can in the cellar. And I certainly didn’t slash the tires on my truck.”

  Jonah removed his hat and ran a finger along the brim. “There’s been talk in town about Dan wanti
ng to force Silas’s hand into selling.”

  The sudden intake of Shelby’s breath warned him this was news to her as well.

  “Talk from whom? Town gossips?” Nick got in Jonah’s face. “Beaufort trying to stir up trouble?”

  Jonah backed off, holding up his hands. “I’m only telling you what everyone else knows. Dan was at Martha Horner’s real estate office last week, asking how much it would cost for a real estate appraisal on the ranch. All the ranch. He wasn’t being quiet about it, either.”

  Shelby bit her luscious lower lip. “Dan never said anything to me. I keep the books, manage the bills and cut the checks. If he was shelling out money for an appraisal, he would have told me.”

  Jonah shrugged. “All I know is he told Martha when Silas went, they’d probably sell. Seems Felicity has a hankering to live in Knoxville, closer to her folks.”

  Minutes later, Jonah was headed back to his patrol car. Shelby looked around the grounds, her expression distraught.

  “Right before Silas died, I asked Dan if we should think about selling a portion of the south pasture. I even mentioned it might be good to get a new appraisal to use as a bargaining chip with Beaufort, to know what the land is worth. He said there was no need. Why would he lie to me?”

  Nick decided it was time to have a little chat with his cousin.

  * * *

  That afternoon, Nick waited for Dan in the study.

  Nick had gone into Nashville and purchased battery-operated cameras, installing them outside the cabin. The cameras were the same kind of tracker cameras used on hunting trails.

  Maybe now whoever used the cabin for storage would think twice about setting foot there. He also installed new steel locks on the root cellar and the front and back doors of the cabin. And using his savings, he bought a top-of-the-line security system with night-vision cameras for the outside of the garage.

  He hated this room. With its dark paneling and oppressive, heavy furniture, it looked more like a funeral parlor than an office.

  Amber fluid rested in the glass sitting on the desk before him. Nick raised the whiskey and saluted the portrait before him.

  “Here’s to you, Dad. You left me in a hell of a mess.”

  The liquid burned his throat as he sipped.

  “But damn, you knew how to pick your liquor,” he muttered.

  The drink felt good, sharpened his senses. Nick glanced at the clock on the mantel as the door opened.

  Dan came inside, frowning. “You’re drinking already?”

  “You’re late.” He set down the whiskey, ice cubes clinking against the glass.

  Anger darkened Dan’s face. “It’s Sunday—the day I spend with my family. What’s so damn important you couldn’t wait?”

  Folding his hands on the desk, he leaned forward.

  “When were you going to tell me about the appraisal, Dan? The one you asked Martha about as my father was lying on a hospital bed? Same time you were going to tell me how sick he was?”

  Nick kept his voice quiet, focusing on his cousin’s face. A bead of sweat formed on Dan’s temple, slid down his lean cheek.

  “Whoever told you that is a liar.”

  “Jonah Doyle may be an ass, but he’s no liar.”

  Nick took a file folder Shelby had given him and pushed it across the desk.

  “Explain why you’ve been spending money on video games and entertainment for your kids when this ranch has barely enough funds to purchase grain for the full-board horses.”

  Dan’s expression became mutinous. For a moment, Nick had a wild flashback to his teenage years, when he’d sat in that very seat and Silas lectured him on fighting, drinking or any one of his numerous sins. Silas, his constant air of disapproval each time he looked at Nick. He’d tried hard to please him. He really did, but nothing was ever good enough.

  The Belle Creek was more important to Silas than his only son. Nick found himself competing with horses and tractors and clients for his father’s attention. Small wonder he’d taken the trouble, because at least when he’d gotten caught, Silas was forced to pay attention to him. Only instead of the affection Nick desperately craved, he’d been met with cold, hard disapproval.

  Shelby, with her soft voice and sassy manner, had made those times bearable. He’d leave Silas’s study, stomp out in a temper, determined that he’d prove the old man was right, he was nothing but an out-of-control loser. Only instead of running away or breaking the law, he went straight to Shelby’s trailer.

  They’d talk and she always made him feel special. Different. Worth something, instead of the no-account failure his father said he was turning into.

  Dan folded his hands across his chest, wrinkling the blue silk shirt. “I work hard around here, Nick. I stayed, stuck it out, unlike you, the hotshot hero who couldn’t even bother to call home for Christmas!”

  He went very still, struggling to control his temper. “I was deployed in places where they don’t have access to phones, Dan. And that’s none of your business. What was between Silas and me is private. Stop dodging the question. Why were you seeking an appraisal of the ranch without Silas’s knowledge?”

  His cousin’s shoulders sagged. He rubbed his nose and his gaze darted away.

  “Maybe Silas wanted it. Shelby doesn’t know everything.”

  “Don’t give me that crap. Except for the mortgage, which Silas took care of, Shelby knows every dollar, nickel and penny that comes in and goes out of this ranch. Including the two thousand you spent on a diamond for your wife.” He flung the file folder at his cousin. Papers scattered.

  Dan didn’t pick them up. “It was our tenth wedding anniversary.”

  “And you couldn’t get her something less expensive? Two thousand dollars, when the back pasture fence is broken, and we’re behind on mortgage payments? Two thousand dollars goes a long way in showing the bank you promise to make good.”

  “Felicity had her jewelry stolen. I wanted to give her something to make up for it. You’re a fine one to judge. You don’t know how tough it was to hold this place together when the old man kept the house cold because he insisted heating oil was too expensive. Working your ass off for a measly allowance.”

  Nick sagged in the chair, suddenly weary. “No, I don’t. But that’s no excuse, Dan. Level with me. Would you sell if Silas left the ranch to you?”

  Dan rubbed his hands on his trousers. “I don’t know. Okay, I admit, I asked Martha about a real estate appraisal. I figured it would help convince Silas to sell part of the land. We have only a few horses rough boarding and the income isn’t enough.”

  Nick looked around the study, thinking fast. “Fall’s here, and winter’s coming. More costs. But trail rides are popular this time of year. We could advertise, put the word out.”

  Dan’s mouth narrowed and he sat straighter. “Why do you care? You’ll sell the place and be on the road again before the ink is dry.”

  He couldn’t blame his cousin. Hadn’t he been contemplating the same thing? Nick stood. “Go back to your wife and kids. We’ll talk later. From now on, you’re on a strict allowance, per the legal agreement you’re signing tomorrow. No more spending money on diamonds, video games or pedicures. If we’re going to make this work, we have to cut back.”

  Dan glared at him. “Guess I don’t have a choice if I want to stay. Welcome home, Nick. You walked back into a real mess.”

  Jake walked into the study as his brother pushed past him.

  “What’s got his goat?” Jake took the seat vacated by his brother.

  “Money. What else?” Nick tapped the desktop. “How many clients do you have lined up for lessons this week?”

  Jake sighed. “I had five, but three canceled. They made some excuse about kids having karate practice or soccer. I think the word got out and parents don’t want th
em coming here because we can’t guarantee their safety.” Nick had hoped to build up the riding lessons for a quick cash infusion. Jake had a rep as a good trainer, patient and gentle with kids, especially the younger set.

  They talked for a few minutes about the week’s schedule. When Jake left, Nick leaned back in the chair. He’d come home to a real mess. And he didn’t see how they could get out of it without selling.

  Which would put Shelby out on the streets, without a home.

  Chapter 8

  Shelby wished she didn’t have to work tonight. Sunday nights were usually quiet and tips were meager. Exhaustion crept into her bones. The uncertainty looming over them, along with the nastiness of last night’s incident and the unsettling idea of someone storing gasoline in the root cellar, shook her more than she cared to admit.

  Not to mention Nick’s kiss in the cabin. That was the real reason for her jitters.

  It was only a kiss. Meant nothing, not like it did back then. Nick’s kissed a lot of women, and you’re not an inexperienced virgin.

  But she had to admit, the man knew how to move his mouth. He was pure sex, all those yummy muscles she longed to explore with her fingertips, run her tongue across that solid flesh as he lay back on the bed...

  Do. Not. Go. There.

  Sex with Nick was a very bad idea. She couldn’t allow herself to drift into that fantasy, no matter how much she craved his touch. No matter how much the old feelings flared each time she saw him. She’d loved him ten years ago, with all the passion in her young heart. Now?

  Her responsibilities to this ranch and her nephew came first.

  Holding it together for Timmy’s sake, she knew she couldn’t let herself fall apart. Let herself become unglued. She was the strong one. Always had been.

  “You’re Southern, girlfriend. We Southern gals never let anyone see our spines bend,” Ann often told her.

  But damn, girl, did she really have to wear that stupid cowgirl outfit and the tight hose? Bad enough the skirt was too short.