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“Oof.” Instead of her intended dash to the store, she slammed into a hard wall of man.
“Addie.”
She looked up at Noah, whose hand curled around her arm. He looked down at her, something like concern or confusion hidden underneath all that hair and stoicism.
“Everything okay?” he asked in that gruff voice that suggested no actual interest in the answer, but that was the thing about Noah. He gave the impression he didn’t care about anything beyond his horses and cows, but he’d fixed up that truck for her even though she hadn’t asked. He played with Seth as if people who hired housekeepers usually had relationships with the housekeeper’s kid. He made sure there was food for Ty, room for Vanessa and Clint, and work if any of them wanted it.
He was a man who cared about a lot of people and hid it well.
“I just...” She looked back at where the strange, unspeaking man had been. There was no one there. No one. She didn’t know how to explain it to Noah. She didn’t know how to explain it to anyone.
The man hadn’t said anything threatening. Hadn’t done anything threatening, but that hadn’t been normal. “I thought I saw someone...” She looked around again, but there was no sign of anyone in the sunshine-laden morning.
“As in someone someone?” Noah asked in that same stoic voice, and yet Addie had no doubt if she gave any hint of fear, Noah would jump into action.
So she forced herself to smile. “I’m being silly. It was just a man.” She shook her head and gestured with her free hand. “I’m sure it was nothing.” Which was a flat-out lie. As much as she’d love to tell herself it was nothing, she knew Peter too well to think this wasn’t something.
She blew out a breath, scanning the road again. There was just no other explanation. He knew where she was. He knew.
“Addie.”
She looked back at Noah, realizing his hand was still on her arm. Big and rough. Strong. Working for Noah had made her feel safe. Protected.
But this wasn’t his fight, and she’d brought it to his door.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
“For what?” he asked in that gruff, irritable way.
Seth lunged for Noah, happily babbling his favorite word over and over again. “No, no, no.” Addie tried to hold on to the wiggling child, but Noah took him out of her arms with ease.
“Aren’t you supposed to be back at the ranch? You know I get groceries on Wednesdays. I could have picked up whatever for you.”
“It’s feed,” Noah said. “Couldn’t have loaded it up yourself with the baby.” He glanced at the grocery cart behind her. “We’ll put the groceries in my truck.”
“Oh, I can handle...”
“He always falls asleep on the way home, doesn’t he?” Noah asked as if it wasn’t something that he knew Seth’s routine. Or that he was letting Seth pull the cowboy hat off his head, and then smash it back on.
Noah moved for the cart, because you didn’t argue with Noah. He made a decision and you followed it whether you wanted to or not. Partly because he was her boss, but she also thought it was partly just him.
“Let’s get home and you can tell me what really happened.” Noah’s dark gaze scanned the street as if he could figure everything out simply by looking around.
She knew it was foolish, but she was a little afraid he could. “I swear, nothing happened. I’m being silly.”
“Well, you can tell me about that, too. At home.” He handed her Seth and then took the cart.
Home. She’d wanted to build a home. For Seth. For herself. But if Peter had found her...
She couldn’t let herself get worked up. For Seth’s sake, she had to think clearly. She had to formulate a plan. And she couldn’t possibly let Noah know the truth.
Noah didn’t think running away was the answer, that she knew after listening to his lectures to Clint.
Beyond that, regardless of his personal feelings for her—whether they existed deep down or not—he had a very clear personal code. That personal code would never let a woman and a baby run away without protection.
Which would put him in danger. Very much because of her personal feelings, she couldn’t let that happen.
“Okay. I’ll meet you back at the ranch.” She smiled pleasantly and even let him take the cart of groceries and wheel it down to where his truck was parked on the corner. She frowned at that. “If you were in town to pick up feed, why are you here?”
Noah didn’t glance at her, but he did shrug. “Saw the truck. Thought you might need some help loading.” Then he was hidden behind his truck door, loading the groceries into the back seat.
Addie glanced down at Seth. “I really don’t know what to do with that man,” she murmured, opening her own truck door and getting Seth situated in his car seat. She supposed in the end it didn’t matter she didn’t know what to do with him. If someone was here...
Well, Seth was her priority. She couldn’t be a sitting duck, and she couldn’t bring Noah into harm’s way. This wasn’t like the poison or the fence. This was directed at her. That man had stared at her. Whether or not those first two things were related didn’t matter, because this was about her.
Which meant it was time to leave again. She slid into the driver’s seat, glancing in her rearview mirror, where she watched Noah start walking back toward the store to return the now-empty cart.
Addie had become adept at lying in the past year. She’d had to, but mainly she only had to lie to strangers or people she didn’t know very well. Even that initial lie to Laurel, and the past three months of upholding it with everyone, hadn’t been hard. Pretending to be Seth’s biological mother was as easy as pie since he was hers and hers alone these days.
But finding a new lie, and telling it to Noah’s face—that was going to be a challenge. She changed her gaze from Noah’s reflection to Seth in the car seat. She smiled at him in the mirror.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ll take care of it.” Somehow. Someway.
* * *
NOAH HAD UNLOADED the groceries at the front door, and Addie had taken them inside, the baby monitor sitting on the kitchen table as they quietly worked.
He should have insisted they talk about what had transpired at the general store, but instead he’d gone back out to his truck and driven over to the barn to unload the feed.
Then he’d dawdled. He was not a man accustomed to dawdling. He was also not a man accustomed to this. Every time something bad had happened in the first two months, he’d been the one to find it. Little attacks that had been aimed at the ranch.
Whatever had shaken Addie today was about her. What she’d seen. He could attribute her shakiness to being “silly” as she said, or even her previous “situation” with her ex, but he didn’t know what that was. Not really. He certainly hadn’t poked into it. He was not a poker, and Addie was not a babbler. It was why this whole thing worked.
But she’d eased into life at the Carson Ranch. So much so that Noah, on occasion, considered thanking Laurel and Grady for forcing his hand on the whole housekeeper thing. She’d made his life easier.
Except where she hadn’t. Those uncomfortable truths he’d had to learn about himself—he was lonely, he liked having someone under his roof and to talk to for as little as he did it. He liked having her and Seth in particular.
Which was his own fault. She didn’t carry any responsibility for his stupid feelings. Even if he’d had a sense of triumph over the fact Addie didn’t jump at random noises anymore, and she didn’t get scared for no reason. Both with the poison and the fence, she’d walked on eggshells for a few days, then gotten back to her old quietly cheerful self.
He’d never told her about the footprints and they’d never returned. So maybe he’d overreacted then. Maybe he’d been silly, but whatever had rattled her at the store was something real. Which meant they needed to talk about it.
But he wasn’t the talker. He was the doer. Grady or Ty went in and did all the figuring out, and Noah brought up the rear, so to speak. He was there. He did what needed to be done, but he was no great determiner of what that thing was. He left that to people who liked to jack their jaw.
Which was when he realized what he really needed. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and typed a text. When he got the response he’d hoped for, he put his phone away and got back to his real work. Not protecting Addie Foster and whatever her issue was, but running a ranch.
He worked hard, thinking as little about Addie as possible, and didn’t reappear at the main house until supper. He stepped up onto the porch, scraping the mud off his boots before entering.
The blast of warmth that hit him was an Addie thing. She opened the west-facing curtains so the sun set golden through the windows and into the kitchen and entryway every day. Whenever he stepped in, she had supper ready or almost.
Seth slammed his sippy cup against his high-chair tray and yelled, “No!” Noah was never sure if it was a greeting or an admonition.
Noah grunted at the boy, his favorite mode of greeting. He sneaked a glance at Addie to make sure she still had her back to him, then made a ridiculous face that made Seth squeal out a laugh.
Noah advanced closer, but he noted Addie was slamming things around in the kitchen and didn’t turn to face him with her usual greeting and announcement of what was for dinner.
It all felt a little too domestic, which was becoming more and more of a problem. He couldn’t complain about being fed nightly by a pretty woman, but sitting down with her and her kid for a meal every day was getting to feel normal.
Integral.
Noah hovered there, not quite sure what to do. Laurel had assured him via text she’d come in and figure out whatever was up with Addie after he’d contacted her, but Addie did not seem calmed.
He cleared his throat. “Uh. Um, need help?” he offered awkwardly.
She turned to face him, tongs in one hand and an anger he’d never seen simmering in her blue eyes.
She pointed the tongs at him. “You, Noah Carson, are a coward. And a bit of a high-handed jerk.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, but Addie didn’t wilt. Not even a hint of backing down. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared right back at him. In another situation he might have been impressed at the way she’d blossomed into something fierce.
“Because?”
She huffed out a breath. “You went and told Laurel I was having a problem when I told you I was not.”
“But you were.”
“No. I wasn’t.” She pointed angrily at the table with the tongs. “Sit down and eat.”
He’d never seen much of Addie’s temper. Usually if she got irritated with him she went to some other room in the house and cleaned something. Or went into her room and played with Seth. She never actually directed any of her ire at him.
He didn’t know what to do with it. But he was hungry, so he took his seat next to Seth’s high chair, where the kid happily smacked his hands into the tiny pieces of food Addie had put on his tray before Noah walked in.
She slammed a plate in front of Noah. Chicken legs and mashed potatoes and some froufrou-looking salad thing. Usually she didn’t serve him, but he wasn’t one to argue with anyone, let alone an angry female.
She stomped back to the kitchen counter, then to the table again. She sat in a chair opposite him with an audible thump.
Her huffiness and sternness were starting to irritate him. He didn’t have much of a temper beyond general curmudgeon, but when someone started poking at him, things tended to... Well, he tended to avoid people who made him lose his temper. Addie’d never even remotely tested that before.
But she sure was now.
“I can handle this,” she said, leveling him with her sternest look. She shook out a paper towel and placed it on her lap like it was an expensive cloth napkin and they were in some upscale restaurant.
“What? What is this thing you can handle?” he returned evenly.
She stared right back at him like he was slow. “It’s nothing. That’s why I can handle it.”
Noah wanted to beat his head against the table. “You were visibly shaken this morning, and it wasn’t like it used to be.”
Her sharp expression softened slightly. “What do you mean?”
Noah shrugged and turned his attention to his food. “When you first got here you were all jumpy-like. This was not the same thing.”
She was quiet for a few seconds, so he took the opportunity to eat.
“I didn’t know you noticed,” she said softly.
He shrugged, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth and hoping this conversation was over.
He should have known better. Addie didn’t poke at him, but she also didn’t leave things unfinished. “I need you to promise you won’t call Laurel like that again. The last thing I need is well-meaning people...” She trailed off for a few seconds until he looked up from his plate.
Her eyebrows were drawn together and she was frowning at her own plate, and Noah had the sinking, horrifying suspicion those were tears making her blue eyes look particularly shiny.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll handle things. Don’t bring Laurel into this again.” She looked up, as if that was that.
“No.”
“What did you say?” she asked incredulously.
“I said no.”
She sputtered, something like a squeak emanating from her mouth. “You can’t just...you can’t just say no!”
“But I did.”
Another squeaking sound, which Seth joined in as if it was a game.
Addie took a deep breath as if trying to calm herself. “A man stood in my way and wouldn’t move. He said nothing, and he did nothing threatening. It was nothing. Calling Laurel, on the other hand, was something. And I did not appreciate it.”
“If what happened this morning were nothing, it wouldn’t have freaked you out. What did Laurel say?”
“She said you’re an idiot and I should quit and move far away.”
“No, she didn’t.” He didn’t believe Laurel would say something like that, but there was a panicked feeling tightening his chest.
“Noah, this isn’t your problem,” Addie said, and if he wasn’t crazy, there was a hint of desperation in her tone, which only served to assure him this was his problem.
“You live under my roof, Addie Foster. You are my problem.”
She frowned at him as if that made no sense to her, but it didn’t need to. It made sense to him. The people in his family and under his roof were under his protection. End of story.
Chapter Four (#uc35f7e3b-0925-5a2a-81c6-0aab782a6dc3)
Addie ate the rest of her dinner in their normal quiet companionship. Quite honestly, she was rendered speechless by Noah’s gruff, certain proclamation.
You are my problem.
He had no idea what kind of problem she could be if she stayed, and yet no matter how many times she’d chastised herself to pack up and leave immediately, here she was. Cleaning up dinner dishes while Seth crawled in and out of the play tent she’d placed on the floor for him.
You are my problem.
