Navy SEAL Protector

by Bonnie Vanak

  Gently, he untangled himself from her tight grip. “Hey, darling, don’t cry. It’s okay now.”

  Shelby sniffled. “All those wasted years. If I knew you’d written to Silas, tried to stay in touch, I’d have demanded he answer you.”

  Nick smiled a little. “I know. You were always there for me, Shel. Thanks.”

  “So does this mean you’re going to stay?”

  Chuckling, he wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb. “We’ll see, Sweet Pea.”

  They had a big job ahead of them.

  Chapter 18

  Leaden light filtered through the frilly pink curtains at the bedroom window as Nick awoke the next morning. The sky was gray with the approaching dawn. He stared at the ceiling, amused at the stars glued there. Peace filled him. Last night, making love with Shelby had been incredible. He could spend a lifetime with her, and never get enough.

  Curled against him, Shelby slept, her long hair tousled, a faint red mark on her neck where he’d loved her last night. Nick stroked the mark of his possession, reminding himself to be gentler in the future. She had delicate skin.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a sleepy smile. “Good morning, hot buns.”

  Chuckling, he stroked her hair. “Hot buns?”

  “You do have a very cute butt. What are you doing awake?”

  Nick grinned, liking the new nickname. “Admiring you,” he said softly.

  Shelby reached out, touched his cheek. “I could do the same to you. Except it’s too early.”

  “It’s almost six,” he pointed out.

  “Well, you promised we could sleep in.”

  “This is sleeping in, sleepyhead,” he teased, tugging at a strand of her silky hair. “Even if the stars are still out.”

  At her puzzled frown he pointed upward. Shelby sighed. “Those stars make me sad.”

  “Then let’s pull them down and toss them into the sky, where they belong.” He didn’t usually get this whimsical. “I don’t want to see you sad.”

  “It won’t matter. Felicity put them there, and no one had the heart to tell her to take them down.” Shelby glanced upward. “They were for the baby.”

  His stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. “What baby?”

  “A little over a year ago, she was pregnant with a daughter. But Felicity miscarried at five months. This bedroom was going to be hers.” Shelby rested her head on Nick’s shoulder. “It’s why she’s become so rigid in the past year, between the loss and the ranch losing money. Felicity tries to control whatever she can, because it seems like everything is slipping out of her grasp.”

  Now he understood his cousin’s wife better. Nick was glad she seemed to be making a turnaround. But today he didn’t want to talk about his family. Today was for celebrating a small victory, and for Shelby.

  Rolling over, he gave her a deep kiss.

  Shelby looked up at him tenderly as he pulled away. “Why, Nick Anderson, you must be a morning person.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  And then he pulled her into his arms once more to show her exactly how much he was.

  * * *

  Nick showered quickly and dressed in a flannel shirt and gray sweatpants.

  Shelby had fallen asleep, a slight smile on her face, when he emerged from the bathroom. Nick grabbed his cell phone and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  Whistling, he went downstairs to make coffee. When it was finished he fetched a big mug with a horse on it and poured a cup. Standing at the French doors overlooking the pasture, he admired the sunlight dappling the oak and magnolia trees near the house.

  His cell phone rang. Nick picked it up from the kitchen counter. Jarrett was an early riser, like him. But this wasn’t Jarrett’s number.

  “Kurt,” he said, answering the phone. “What’s up that you’re calling before seven on a Tuesday morning?”

  A long, heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Nick. Bad news. The bank has called in your loan.”

  The phone nearly fell from his fingers. Nick gripped it so tight, his fingers hurt. “What the hell? When? How?”

  He listened to the details, his stomach tightening. When he hung up, Nick nearly threw his cell across the room. Instead he sat at the table, and buried his head into his hands. Should have known that son of a bitch wouldn’t want to stall.

  Beaufort. Beaufort hadn’t liked being thwarted at the council meeting. He still pulled the strings, and now he’d pulled the ranch’s loan.

  They had twenty-four hours to pay back the entire loan, not just the sixty thousand dollars for the back payments and the balloon that had been due.

  There was no way on earth Nick could pay back a loan of that magnitude in one day. Bracing his hands on the kitchen table, he stared out at the pasture that had been in his family for five generations.

  He was going to have to sell.

  * * *

  Nick was selling the ranch, leaving her homeless.

  Shelby struggled to breathe as he told her the news over breakfast. They were alone in the house, as Dan and his family had gone back to Knoxville to look for a new house. Jake was spending the night in town with friends.

  She could only stare helplessly at him, unable to summon even a fake smile as she’d done when her sister left.

  His chocolate-brown gaze remained steady, the small tic in his cheek the only evidence of emotion. “The bank called in the note last night, Shel. I’m going to make all the arrangements. By tomorrow afternoon, Belle Creek won’t be mine. I’m meeting Kurt Mohler at his office downtown later today to sign the papers.”

  A tremendous roar sang in her ears. She wanted to shake her head, get rid of the sound buzzing there. It sounded like the crash of all her hopes and dreams.

  “Nick, you can stall for more time... Silas would be heartbroken.”

  He tensed and shoved a hand through his hair. “I already informed Dan and Jake. Dan and his family made plans to move to Knoxville. Jake has a bead on a job training champion jumpers in upstate New York. As for Hank, Mario and John, I’m going to give them severance, of course.”

  She bit her lip. “So I’m out of a job. And the apartment, too, it seems.”

  “Soon as I have the cash from the sale, I’m putting thirty thousand dollars into your personal account for all you’ve done for the ranch, Shelby. It’s enough to fund a fresh start, or go to Paris and study art.” He shoved a hand through his thick, short hair. “I’m afraid you’ll have to vacate the garage apartment. I’m certain Beaufort will want everything emptied so he can demolish it. I can help you with that.”

  Her voice held only a slight quaver. “And where are you going?”

  Nick flicked his hand into the air. “I don’t know yet. Maybe head south to Florida for the winter.”

  Tightness compressed her chest, so tight and hot she could barely breathe. Shelby looked out the French doors, struggling to comprehend his words. Her helpless gaze took in the oaks and sycamores turning brilliant colors, the horses peacefully cropping grass in the pasture. All this would soon vanish. She tried to memorize it, as one would memorize each brushstroke of a favorite painting. She couldn’t move, couldn’t make herself leave him, leave the table and return home to make arrangements to find another place to live.

  Home? She had no more home. After eighteen years of security and stability, she felt adrift. A festering panic seized her—she knew this was the end of something quite precious and important and perhaps she’d never get it back. Not the home she’d known for nearly two decades.

  Nick.

  Shelby wanted to hold on to the moment, to capture it like artists put ships into bottles. She wanted to turn back the clock to the moments before her world crashed down. Nick was leaving, moving on, and what they had shared, the laughter, sharing and lo
ve, was about to vanish.

  It hadn’t been more than mere sex, or friendship. It had just...been.

  He wants to get rid of you. Time to move on, and pick up the pieces and get out. Don’t be a fool and stand here, letting him see how much he’s hurt you. C’mon, Shelby, have a little pride and dignity.

  But it hurt far too much, an excruciating pain that settled in like an old friend stretching its legs, the same hurt that haunted her ten years ago. This time, it was worse. Shelby gripped her coffee cup so tight her hands hurt. Gathering her lost composure, she forced herself to speak slowly and quietly, forcing down the bubble of hysteria that wanted to shriek and holler.

  “Thank you for the kind offer, Nick, but I’ll find a place on my own. Pay me what the ranch owes me for the work I’ve done for Belle Creek. No more.”

  “Fine. Seeing as you haven’t taken a salary six months, it’s more than thirty thousand dollars.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this. Nick, there has to be a way to fight it,” she blurted.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’ve done all I can.”

  “So you’ll pack up and leave. Run away like you did ten years ago.” Misery engulfed her and she released her hands on the coffee cup. She hurt enough, without having this pain. Shelby rubbed her aching fingers.

  Mouth compressed, Nick stared at the doors. “I’m not running. But I know when it’s time to give up.”

  “Like you gave up being a SEAL? Gave up on Silas and trying to understand him? And now you’re giving up on Belle Creek.” Her voice dropped. “On us, Nick. I could have helped you make this work. I was willing to try. You’re stronger than you think, Nick. Don’t give up. You have it in here—” she pressed a hand to her heart “—to give it a fighting chance.”

  A tic began in his cheek. “I gave it a fighting chance, Shelby, but I know when something is futile. Unless you have two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to spare, Belle Creek will be sold. As for my father, that’s my private business.”

  “This is your home.” She pushed away the coffee cup. Liquid sloshed over the side, spilling onto the table. “My home, too.”

  The cheek tic became more pronounced. “Why stay here, anyway? Barlow isn’t special. Take the money, start new someplace else. Go to Seattle with Heather, travel, but don’t stay here. There’s nothing here for you.”

  She gave him a long look, filled with sadness, anger and hurt. “Yes, you’re right. I thought there was, Nick. There was you. But not anymore.”

  Leaving him sitting at the table, she went upstairs to gather her things. She had much packing to do, and not much time.

  Her heart ached with each step she took up the stairs.

  Chapter 19

  He had something special with Shelby, and now it was lost.

  Nick felt like the lowest kind of worm as he rode on his Harley to the graveyard. Maybe his dad was right. He was a failure. He’d given up on the ranch. Given up on a future with Shelby, the only woman he ever truly loved.

  Startled at the thought, he pulled into the cemetery. Love? Yeah, he had done it all right. Fallen in love with the girl next door, the one woman he would yank out his eyeteeth to prevent anyone from hurting.

  No, you did a good enough job of that yourself.

  Near a group of trees and a serene pond, Nick parked his bike on the access road and switched off the motor. Bypassing the graves with their bronze vases of red, blue and pink silk flowers, he headed for the mortuary, where the ashes were interred. On the marble facade were bronze markers. One read simply Anderson. Silas and Marlene.

  He rested his hand against the cool marble, his throat closing.

  “Hey, Dad.” He swallowed hard, looked around. No one here. So quiet. Peaceful. A fountain bubbled in the midst of the pond flanking the building. Oak, maple and hickory trees had begun to shed their colors.

  Seasons changing. Life going on.

  So many regrets.

  A bronze vase of red and blue silk flowers sat atop the marker reading Silas Anderson. Someone had thoughtfully placed the flowers there to remember Silas.

  Shelby, maybe. Or Jake or Dan. He was glad they’d done it. Made the place seem less cold and bleak.

  He struggled to contain his feelings. Needing control, he began to read the nearby markers.

  Anderson, Judith.

  Nick blinked back tears and stared at the stone. He’d never come here, never had a reason, for Silas wasn’t sentimental and after losing Nick’s mom, he said visiting the dead was a waste of time. Best way to honor your mother is hard work, doing what she wanted for you, Silas had snapped when Nick had timidly asked about visiting her grave.

  He never noticed the name. Too much of a coincidence. Anderson, Judith. A small round photo was set into the marble. A round face, laughing eyes and dark hair.

  Pretty, animated. A relative?

  Nick studied the other markers. His uncle Charles. Aunt Ida next to him. Dan and Jake’s mother, Gert, and their father, James.

  Who was Judith Anderson?

  Only twenty-four years old when she died twenty-nine years ago. Silas never mentioned a cousin or any other relatives. Yet here she was, buried in the family crypt.

  Someone had left a faded teddy bear, its brown fur turned nearly white, beneath the marker.

  A note was scribbled next to it. He picked it up, unfurled it.

  Miss you, sweetheart. My love will always be with you.

  Johnny

  Who was Johnny?

  Nick didn’t like mysteries. Liked them less with his family. Silas wasn’t around anymore to ask. Maybe he should have come home sooner. Maybe he could have talked the old man into going to the hospital quicker, giving him a fighting chance. Moisture stung his eyes. He didn’t wipe away the tears, but let them flow this time.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispered, looking up at his father’s bronze marker. “I’m sorry I disappointed you. Sorry I didn’t come home sooner so I could say goodbye.”

  He removed his SEAL pin from his jeans pocket, and placed it next to the red and blue silk flower arrangement.

  “This is for you, Dad. I hope wherever you are, you’re proud of me. I did it for me, but I did it for you, too.”

  Nick walked to a nearby bench and sat, burying his head into his hands, releasing the grief over all the lost years. Maybe that was their problem. Too much alike, clashing against each other. He thrived on challenges, like Silas had. Sought them out, needing adventure and action—he hadn’t been content to stay in Tennessee, his feet firmly planted on the ground like his cousins had.

  Yet now, he realized there was more to life than roaming. He’d been restless, impatient to grab adventure by both hands. The rebellious teenager was gone now, replaced by a man sobered by too many brushes with death.

  Maybe life was about a different kind of adventure, the type you had when a woman waited for you at home, and you never knew what the next turn in the road with her would bring.

  He felt the pull of the road already, but it wasn’t as insistent as before. Because of Shelby. Not just the ranch. Shelby, with her willingness to fight, to rise above everything life doled out to her and make it count. Shelby, who sacrificed everything to take care of her sister, and her nephew.

  While he’d run away to seek thrills, she’d been staying here in Barlow, her feet firmly planted on the ground. As steady as the flowing seasons.

  Shelby deserved a second chance, just as Belle Creek did.

  Filled with dread, Nick dug out Silas’s letter from his pocket and finally read the rest of the letter.

  When you were young, I was hard on you because I feared you were headed to a bad end. If I was too tough and didn’t show enough affection, I am sorry. You are too much like your father, stubborn and proud,
but I love you. I only want the best for you. You’re a grown man now, and you’ve done well. Find a good woman, Nicolas. Find her and hold her close, and never let her go. She’ll be the one to stick it out with you through the hard times and celebrate the good.

  I had faith in you all those years ago, son, and I have faith in you now. Don’t let our feud be the reason Belle Creek is destroyed. Years of living history are etched in that soil. We Andersons owe it to the town, to good people like Shelby, who love the ranch, to save it. No matter what you decide, I’ll always be proud of you.

  Your loving father, Silas

  Nick smoothed out the paper with a trembling hand. His old man was proud of him. No matter what. Words he’d always longed to hear stood out in stark relief on the white paper.

  Selling Belle Creek to Beaufort was selling himself out, and depriving the town of a landmark. He could do this. Hell, Shelby had faith in him. Shelby believed in him. Hometown hero.

  No, only a man determined to do what was right, and save a living piece of history.

  Swallowing hard, he dug out his phone and scrolled through the contacts. Maybe there was a way to save Belle Creek after all. He did have friends. Before he’d been too damn proud to tell them, same as he’d been too proud to ask for help after he’d been sprung from Walter Reed.

  Jarrett Adler answered on the first ring. “Nomad. Coop told me your family home was in trouble. You okay?”

  Nick leaned his arm against the tree. “Jarrett, I have a favor to ask...”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Nick waited in the office of a local attorney Jarrett recommended. The wire transfer of the cash and the legal documents would take another hour. Plenty of time before the midnight deadline imposed by the bank.

  Take that Beaufort, he silently thought.

  Former Navy SEAL Jarrett Adler had married into a very wealthy family. And Lacey, Jarrett’s devoted wife, readily agreed to paying the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars Belle Creek owed to the bank, and giving Nick a new mortgage with a more reasonable interest rate.