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Maria Wilder waved a hand. “Don’t be silly. We don’t mind.”
She led Kayla up the stairs to a bedroom that was small but bright and airy. A quilt covered the twin bed. A rocking chair nearby had another quilt folded over the arm. Braided rugs in soft spring colors were scattered on the wood floor.
“It isn’t much but it’s clean. And most of Boone’s smelly past has been evicted. Shoes, clothes, high school uniforms that got shoved in corners and forgotten.” Maria Wilder turned down the blanket on the bed.
“It’s perfect.”
Boone’s mother gave her a quick hug. “Are you hungry?”
“Prepare to be fattened up, Stanford.”
His mother swatted at his arm. “Behave. No one likes to go to bed hungry. And young ladies don’t like to be told they need to be ‘fattened up.’”
“I’m fine, but thank you. We grabbed fast food on our way.”
Maria made a face. “Bah. Fast food isn’t real food.”
“Really, I’m fine. But thank you. I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep.”
Maria glanced at her watch. “You should go to bed now. Morning comes early around here.”
Kayla covered a yawn. She agreed, it was bedtime. She looked at Boone, who was already heading for the door. The limp she’d noticed previously was more pronounced tonight.
“Get some sleep and try not to worry.” He stopped just short of exiting.
She nodded. Of course she wouldn’t worry. She was in a strange home with people she didn’t know. And someone she didn’t know wanted to harm her. What did she have to worry about?
“Stanford?”
She met the dark gaze of her protector.
He smiled that easy smile of his. “Don’t worry.”
Of course.
“If you need anything,” Maria said, “don’t hesitate, just ask.”
They left and she was alone. What she truly needed, they couldn’t give her. She didn’t even know how to put a name on the empty spaces in her heart. For several years she’d filled those spaces up with anger, with rebellion and a lifestyle that had worn her out physically and emotionally.
She always wondered about the people who seemed emotionally whole and happy. How did they do it, find that happiness?
Alone she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands splayed on the cottony softness of the quilt. On the stand next to the bed was a Bible. It was small, leather bound and worn. Her gaze wandered from that small book to the needlepoint picture on the wall with a Bible verse she’d heard most of her life. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
The words were lovely and encouraging. But her heart still felt empty.
* * *
“She’s a lovely girl,” Boone’s mom said as she followed him out to his truck. He opened the door of the old Ford and leaned against it.
“Mom, go ahead and say what you want to say. I need to get home and get some sleep.”
“You need to get off your feet.”
“Yeah, that, too.” He took a seat behind the wheel of the truck, his hand on the key.
“Just be careful. She’s pretty and lonely.”
And there it was. He let out a long sigh. His mom knew him better than anyone. She also had a hard time remembering that her kids were growing up. “No need to worry. I’m going to do my job and then return her to her family.”
“She doesn’t have a family, not really.”
He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. “Now I know where I get the fixer complex. From you. You’re worried about me getting too involved.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “But you know that you’re just as bad.”
She laughed. “I won’t deny that. I look at this girl, and I see that she’s lonely and hurting and could easily fall in love with her rescuer.”
“I’ve been hired to do a job. I’ll make sure all she feels for me is annoyance.”
His mother patted his cheek and smiled. “You’re so handsome, my son. And so clueless.”
“Stop.” He leaned and gave her a hug. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He headed down the driveway to the RV. It always felt good to come home, even to his thirty-foot camper. The place was quiet. It had a front deck he’d built earlier in the spring. His dog was curled up on a patio chair, waiting for him. Yeah, home sweet home.
He limped up the steps and sat down on the chair next to the dog, propping his feet up on the footstool. Man, it felt good to stretch. He reached, rubbing the calf muscle of his right leg. The pain eased.
He let out a deep breath and relaxed again.
The collie that had been sleeping half crawled into his lap, resting her head on his leg. He brushed a hand down her neck. “Good girl.”
She pushed at his hand with her nose.
“You’re right, time to go inside.”
He eased to his feet and headed inside. The door wasn’t locked. It never was. He flipped on a light and headed for the kitchen. Halfway across the small living area, he stopped and took a step back.
“What in the world are you doing in my house?” he yelled at the man sprawled on his couch.
“Sleeping,” Daron McKay grumbled. “And I could sleep a lot better without all the yelling. Did you get her settled?”
Daron tossed off the afghan and brushed a hand over his face as he sat up. Boone limped across the room and settled into the recliner.
“Yeah, my mom has her. And is already worried about feeding her. And keeping her safe from me. Or maybe me safe from her.”
Daron perked up at that. “Your mom is a smart woman. We should hire her.”
Boone tossed a pillow, hitting Daron in the head. “Go away.”
“You’re the one who told me the place is always unlocked.”
“I didn’t mean for you to move in here. You have a place of your own just down the road. A big place. Paid for by your dear old dad.”
“It’s too big and empty.” Daron shrugged and plopped back down on the couch. “I’ll pay for the food I eat and the inconvenience.”
“I like to be alone.”
“I know. It’s easier to pace all night if there’s no one watching.”
They both did a lot of pacing. For different reasons. He gave his business partner a long look and wondered just how bad Daron’s nights were. Since they usually stayed out of each other’s heads, Boone could only guess. And since they dealt with their shared grief, their shared memories of Afghanistan, by being men and not dealing with it, he wasn’t about to get all emotional now.
“My pacing is none of your business, McKay. We’re business partners, not the Texas version of the Odd Couple.”
Daron had stretched back out on the sofa and pulled the afghan up to his neck. “You can argue all you want, but you know you like my company. And if we’re the Odd Couple, I’m the clean freak and you’re the messy one. How is our client?”
“You’re the slob. And she’s scared. Even if she pretends she isn’t. And probably lonely. I don’t know.” Boone stretched his legs, relieving the knots in his muscles. “There’s something she isn’t telling us.”
“Charm it out of her.”
“You’re the charming one in this partnership. I’m all business. Luce is, well, Luce.”
“She’s only happy with a gun in her hand,” Daron quipped.
It wasn’t really the truth, but they liked to tease her.
“Yeah. So you charm Miss Stanford. I’ll keep her safe.”
“Nah,” Daron said. “I think I’ll let you try charming for once. I’m out on this one. She’s a handful and I’m not patient.”
“I was going to make a sandwich.” Boone pushed himself out of his chair. “Want one?”
“I ate all of your lunch meat. Sorry.”
“I’m changing my locks.” Boone headed for the kitchen, where he rummaged through the cabinets, not finding much to choose from. He grabbed a can of pasta and decided to eat it cold, out of the can.
Daron joined him in the kitchen, his face haggard, his dark blond hair going in all directions and his shirt untucked. For the supposed neat one, he was a mess. Boone accepted that it was going to be a long night. He could feel it in his bones. Literally. He could feel it in the places where skin and muscle had been ripped, in the bones that had been broken. He could feel it in his mind. And that was the worst.
For the first time he was thankful for the distraction of Kayla Stanford. And even for Daron. If he had something to focus on, he’d concentrate less on the pain, on the memories.
But Kayla Stanford proved to be the wrong place to direct his thoughts. Because when he thought about her, what came to mind was the haunted expression she tried to cover up with a smile. The way her scent, something oriental and complex, lingered in the cab of his truck. He sniffed the sleeve of his shirt, because he could still smell her perfume.
Daron gave him a long look, eyes narrowed and one corner of his mouth hiked up. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I smelled something. Probably you.” He made a show of smelling the canned pasta. “Maybe it’s this?”
“You’re losing it.” Daron grabbed Boone’s sleeve and inhaled. “And you smell like expensive perfume. Lucy doesn’t wear perfume.”
Boone couldn’t help it, he took another whiff. When he did, his eyes closed of their own volition. He thought he would picture her teasing smile. Instead, he pictured the woman sitting in his truck trying to hide the tears that slid down her cheeks.
Yeah, it was going to be a long night. He had her scent clinging to his shirt and the memory of her tears. The two combined equaled disaster as far as he was concerned.
Chapter Four (#ulink_230f7b2f-8cff-55e8-b55c-594eac152f1d)
Someone screamed and Kayla shot straight out of the bed, her heart racing and her legs shaking as she stood in the middle of the unfamiliar room. White curtains covered a window that revealed a view of fields that stretched to the horizon and the distant hills of Texas Hill Country. A cat was curled up at the foot of her bed. A cat?
She looked at the calico feline, white with black and orange patches, and wondered how it had gotten in here. The cat stretched and blinked, fixing green eyes on her, as if she were the interloper.
The scream echoed through the house a second time and she realized it was more of a shriek. Someone else shouted, then a door slammed. Obviously the entire family was up. And if she hadn’t been mistaken last night when Mrs. Wilder gave the list of names and locations of her children, there were several of them.
Although she was tempted to hide away in her room, Kayla dressed and brushed her hair. Before walking out the door of her borrowed bedroom, she glanced back at the cat.
“Don’t you have mice to chase?”
The feline yawned, stretched and closed her eyes.
“I don’t like cats,” she said out loud. The cat didn’t seem to care.
“I don’t like them much myself. Did the screaming banshees downstairs wake you up?”
She spun to face a younger man, maybe in his early twenties. He had dark curly hair cut close to his head, snapping brown eyes, dimples and a big smile.
“I’m Jase.” He held out a hand. “I’m the middle brother and also the smart one. No offense to your bodyguard.”
She still hadn’t spoken. He took her by surprise, with his easy banter and open smile. A few months ago she would have flirted. But she had given it up along with everything else. For the past few months her goal had been a less complicated life.
This did not fit those plans.
“I would say ‘cat got your tongue.’” He glanced past her to the cat in her room. “But that’s pretty cliché.”
“Um, I’m just...” She couldn’t speak.
“Overwhelmed?”
“Maybe a little,” she admitted.
“The cat’s name is Sheba. As in queen of. She lives up to it. And she wouldn’t chase a mouse if it crawled across her paws. Let me walk you downstairs. There’s safety in numbers. And there’s probably some breakfast in the kitchen. We usually eat after we’ve fed the livestock.”
“You’ve already fed the livestock? What time is it?”
He laughed. “Just after seven. And yes, we’ve fed, pulled a calf and gathered eggs.”
“Pulled a calf where?”
He gave her a sideways glance and grinned. “Pulled meaning delivered. The calf wasn’t coming out on his own so we helped the mama with the delivery. There’s nothing like starting your morning with a new life. Which I guess is why I’m premed.”
While they’d been talking he’d led her downstairs and through the house to the big country kitchen, where it seemed half the county had congregated for breakfast.
Boone’s mom, Maria, was standing at the stove. Two young women who looked identical were setting the table. Another sister, a little older than them, was at the sink, auburn hair falling down to veil one side of her face. A toddler on pudgy legs, her curly blond hair in pigtails, was playing with bowls and wooden spoons.
“Welcome to our zoo,” Jase Wilder said with a big smile that included everyone in the room. “The twinkies over there are Esmerelda and Alejandra. Better known to all as Essie and Allie, named after our grandmothers. They’re not as identical as they like to pretend. In the kitchen is Mama Maria, whom you met last night. Michaela and her daughter, Molly. And my lovely sister Janie.”
