Protected by a Hero

by Susan Stoker, Cristin Harber, Cora Seton, Lynn Raye Harris, Kaylea Cross, Katie Reus, Tessa Layne

  “I need a contractor. You’ve been recommended to me repeatedly as one of the best around. I’m hoping me owning the house won’t stop you from considering working with me on it.”

  Yeah, good call on putting the mayo jar down. “You want to hire me as your general contractor?” After the way things had gone between them, she had to be pretty desperate to reach out to him on this. She had balls to call him, he’d give her that.

  “I might. I’d like to set up a meeting with you about it. If you’re interested. I’d understand if it would be too uncomfortable for you, but I’m anxious to get going on this and I want it done right. From what I’ve heard, you’re a perfectionist and you won’t rip me off. Those are both pluses in my book.”

  He didn’t know who she’d been talking to, but then a lot of people in the area knew him, or at least knew his family. “I’d be open to a meeting,” he said cautiously. “When did you have in mind?”

  She let out a soft laugh that did something to his insides. A stirring. “How about now?”

  He thought about it for a moment, even looked down at Grits, who was of course at his feet, on the off chance that Wyatt dropped something in the middle of making his lunch. Could he stomach working on the house, knowing he didn’t have a chance at owning it? And what if she wanted to do something he didn’t agree with, like rip something down he thought should stay?

  “I could meet you in a couple hours.” He didn’t want to seem too eager. He had a sandwich to eat, and then he needed to get cleaned up. “One o’clock?”

  “Sure, I’ll be here at the house. Does that work?”

  “Yes. I’ll see you then.” He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his jeans pocket. “Have to be one hell of an offer, to get me to bite,” he said to Grits, who wagged his tail and gazed up at him adoringly.

  Now he was curious as to what her plans were, and whether she could afford him and his crew. Because that project wasn’t going to be cheap, or fast. Wyatt got to work making his BLT, and “accidentally” dropped a few crumbles of bacon that Grits sucked up almost before they hit the floor.

  After showering and taking care of his stump and prosthesis, he grabbed his laptop and a pad of paper before getting Grits’s harness and leash out of the closet. “Wanna go in the truck?”

  Ears perking up at the word truck, the dog raced over, ears flying, and stood wriggling in place while Wyatt slipped on the harness. He was a sweet little fella, but had absolutely no recall and a strong hunting instinct. Wyatt had already seen the dog had a tendency to chase things. A barn cat, a bird, and even a fly that had gotten trapped in the house the other day. Grits had chased it down for the better part of thirty minutes before giving up. No way Wyatt was letting him off leash in an unfenced area.

  Outside he spotted Scott, one of the wounded vets he and his dad hired to help them around the property, heading out of the barn. “Possible job offer?” Scott asked him, indicating the notepad Wyatt held as he headed over.

  “Maybe.”

  “In town?” He pushed his sandy brown hair out of his face.

  “The old Miller place.”

  He stopped. “It sold?”

  “Last week.”

  Scott winced. “Oh, man, I’m sorry.”

  Wyatt nodded. “Big job. Would keep us all busy for a few solid months at least.”

  “Well let’s hope you get it then,” he said with a grin and Wyatt was glad to see that spark of life in him. Lately Scott had seemed to be sliding back into depression, just one of the demons he wrestled with from a combination of PTSD and the brain injury he’d suffered in Afghanistan. His recent divorce hadn’t helped matters any either.

  Scott had missed work a few times over the past month, something that had cost him a few jobs before Wyatt had hired him. Since Wyatt had talked to him about it he’d been steady ever since and Wyatt and his dad were glad for the help around the farm.

  In the Army Scott’s MOS had been as an interior electrician, and he was damn good at electrical work, which was why Wyatt liked to hire him on building jobs. Steady work for a few months would give him and the other guys a purpose, a reason to get up each morning, and give them the satisfaction that came with putting in a solid day’s work. He owed it to them to try and get this bid.

  “I’ll let you and the others know if anything comes of it,” Wyatt said, and headed for his truck with Grits trotting beside him.

  It took fifteen minutes to drive to the Miller place. As he turned up the driveway, he braced himself for the inevitable wave of heartache that hit him when the house came into view.

  Grabbing his stuff, he lifted Grits down from the passenger seat and walked him up to the front porch. A little cute, furry backup was a welcome icebreaker right now.

  Austen appeared in the front doorway as they reached the top step, and without the anger and fear tearing at him this time, her welcoming smile hit him right in the solar plexus.

  Standing there before him, she seemed to glow from some inner light source. She had on a snug T-shirt that outlined the pert curve of her breasts, and faded jeans that hugged her long, strong-looking legs, her curly hair tied back into a ponytail.

  “Hi there. Who’s this?” That smile grew even wider as she crouched and reached a hand toward the dog, who stretched his head forward but didn’t go toward her, tail down, just the end of it wagging. Unsure, but craving the affection she offered.

  “Grits.”

  She looked up at him, those gorgeous silver eyes sending another jolt through him. He’d been so caught up in his own emotional reaction before, he hadn’t realized just how pretty she was. “Grits?”

  “I know. I didn’t name him. He’s a rescue.”

  Her expression melted as she looked back at the dog. “Hey, cutie. I won’t hurt you. C’mere.” She stayed absolutely still, hand held outward, palm up, her posture nonthreatening, and she didn’t stare into Grits’s eyes. Wyatt could tell a lot about a person by the way they acted around a dog, and so far, he liked what he was seeing in Austen.

  He stood there watching her as she waited, and Grits took a cautious step forward, his tail rising slightly and gaining speed. The dog clearly wanted to meet her, but was still a little unsure. Her actions told Wyatt she was no stranger to dogs, and she obviously seemed to like them. More points in her favor.

  “He’s still a little unsure around strangers,” Wyatt explained.

  “It’s okay.” She stayed still, crooning softly to Grits for a few moments, the soothing sound of her voice stroking over Wyatt like a caress.

  Grits stretched his neck out to sniff her upturned palm, then began licking it. Austen gently scratched the underside of his chin, knowing enough to not raise her hand to try and pet him on the top of the head, which would have frightened him. Three seconds after that, Grits practically climbed into her lap, his entire body wriggling, his tongue flicking like a lizard’s at any part of her he could reach.

  “Oh, he’s so soft and sweet.” Austen laughed and ruffled the white fur on Grits’s chest. “So, does this mean we’re friends now?”

  “Think so.” Wyatt couldn’t help but smile. In his experience, dog lovers were good people. One more mark in Austen’s favor, even if she had bought the house out from under him. Though to be fair, it wasn’t like she’d known he’d wanted it.

  She raised her eyes to his, gaze warm, and stood before holding out her right hand. He noticed there was a diamond ring on her finger, but her left hand was bare. “How about we start over? I’m Austen.”

  He accepted the handshake, unprepared for the shot of electricity that raced through him at the contact. “Hi. Nice to meet you again.” He’d come here with the intent of being professional, nothing more, but she was being so nice he couldn’t help wanting to be nice.

  “You too.” She withdrew her hand, glanced down at Grits. “Think he’d let me hold him now? I don’t want him to step on any nails or anything sharp I’ve pulled out.”

  “I’m sure he w
ould.”

  “C’mere, sweet baby,” she crooned, bending to scoop him up. Grits all but melted into her hold, and Wyatt couldn’t blame him. He felt like a jerk for the way he’d acted earlier, when she seemed like such a nice person. It wasn’t like she’d connived to steal the house from him.

  He cleared his throat, feeling stiff and awkward. Apologies had never been easy for him. “Listen, I’m sorry about how I was the other day.”

  She waved a hand. “I’m over it, so apology accepted.”

  He blinked, somewhat surprised she hadn’t chastised him for his behavior or made him grovel a little more.

  “Ready to see what I’ve got in mind?” she asked him.

  “Sure.” He followed her inside, a flood of bittersweet memories hitting him at the familiar smells of the old wood and the sights around him. It made him sad to see how bad the place had gotten.

  “I’d like to start with the kitchen, then do the bathrooms. That way I can at least live here while the rest is being worked on.”

  He nodded, looking around. She’d taken the boards off all the windows, flooding the entry and kitchen with natural light. Judging from the pile of rubble already on the kitchen floor, she’d been busy.

  Bits of mint green cabinets and speckled Formica countertop lay in heaps on the tarps she’d laid out. They’d been pretty much bombproof, so he knew what kind of muscle and time it would have taken to dismantle them. In addition to being a dog person, Austen Sloan also seemed to be a hard worker.

  “I like the bones in here, so I’m not going to change anything structurally. I want to put in a small island along with the cabinets, and have a gasfitter install a line for the stove. I’m going to be doing the carpentry work myself,” she told him, stopping in the center of the half-demolished kitchen.

  Light filtering through the tall windows at the back of the kitchen brought out warm brown highlights in her dark hair. Her skin looked smooth and soft. So touchable. It had been forever since Wyatt had touched a woman that way, and this one was off limits.

  “Okay,” he answered, surprised and impressed that she could handle that herself. “You a carpenter?”

  “Sort of. I did it on the side for years, but I was a firefighter for the past nine years.”

  “I heard.”

  She appeared surprised for a second, then she smiled. “Gotta love small towns. I’m still getting used to how things operate here. Way different than back in Philly.”

  “Yeah.” Philly, huh? “You planning to work as a firefighter here?”

  “Not sure yet. I want to get my feet under me for a while.”

  He wanted to know why she’d come here in the first place but held off on asking. That was too personal and he was here to do a job, not get to know her, even if his social graces weren’t rusty. Which they definitely were. “Want to show me what else you have in mind?”

  “Sure.” Carrying Grits, she took him through the entire house, giving Wyatt a general idea of her vision.

  The tight band that had been squeezing his ribcage eased a little more with each room they toured, because it was obvious she cared a great deal about restoring the house and doing a good job of it. He asked dozens of questions about the materials she had in mind, what kind of finishing.

  Halfway through the upstairs tour, he got a text. Reading it, he frowned, and for a moment wondered if maybe Easton was playing some kind of twisted joke on him.

  I’m watching you. How does it feel to be hunted?

  What the hell? Someone either had the wrong number or was playing a prank on him, and he didn’t have time for either. He was about to ignore it and put the phone back into his pocket when another message came in.

  I’m going to make you pay for all the lives you’ve ruined.

  At that he went dead still. Definitely not Easton. And the wording sent a chill down his spine.

  His first impulse was to ignore it, but he couldn’t. It hit too close to home, made him wonder if someone was referring to his past. And he didn’t have the first clue who would send him anything like that. Who the hell is this? he fired back.

  A reply came in a few seconds later. By the time you find out, it will be too late.

  Fuck this.

  He blocked the number and put the phone away, oddly shaken by the blatant threat and telling himself he’d look into this more later. When he looked back up, Austen was watching him with those startling silver eyes.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll get back to them later.” The words were already burned into his brain. If he found out who it was, he’d make them sorry they’d ever decided to mess with him. “Keep going.”

  “Like I was saying, I’d like to have the master bathroom attached, and add another full bath down the hall, which will mean losing one of the guest rooms.”

  Wyatt followed her down the narrow hall they’d have to widen, making note of the things she listed. It was hard not to stare at the shapely curve of her ass and her long legs, but he made sure she couldn’t see him doing it and it helped distract him from those texts, at least for the moment. From what he could tell she didn’t plan to change the overall structure except to take down a few partition walls to open up a couple of the rooms.

  “Everything’s going to need to be gutted and taken right down to the studs,” she said as they stepped out of the upstairs bathroom. “The electrical and plumbing are ancient, and even though I’ve had everything inspected, we’ll need to check the structure for stability as we go.”

  Nodding, he jotted down more notes on his pad. “What’s your budget like?” Because all this was going to be expensive, and budgets tended to balloon with something this big.

  At that she tensed, and the inner glow he’d noticed in her seemed to dim a bit. “It’s tight. I can afford the materials, but I might not be able to cover all the labor. Whatever I can’t pay to have done, I’ll have to finish myself. That’s another reason I called you. I heard you have a good reputation in terms of being fair, and not ripping people off. I’m hoping me owning the house won’t affect your quote.”

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m honest.”

  Her lips curved into a slight smile. “That’s pretty rare, in my experience.” She scratched Grits’s chest with her free hand. “So, what do you think? I know it’s a lot to take on. Will you consider it and give me a quote?”

  He wasn’t going to walk away now that he understood what she wanted to do with the place. He could still put his stamp on the house, metaphorically rebuild some of what he’d destroyed. It was better than nothing and would have to be enough. “I’ll take this home and work on it today. As soon as I have an estimate I’ll call you, and I’ll be sure to work with your budget as much as I can.”

  “Great.” Relief flooded her face.

  “And you should also know, I hire veterans pretty much exclusively.”

  “Sure, that’s fine. I heard you were in the Marine Corps.”

  “Thirteen years.” He’d intended to be a lifer like his dad…right up until the day he’d been wounded.

  Wyatt waited, expecting her to ask about his scars now, but she didn’t. That surprised him, but then maybe someone in town had already told her what had happened to him.

  “My guys are all either wounded or disabled to some degree,” he added. Some people weren’t comfortable with that, and that was their prerogative, but if she was one of them, he wouldn’t take the job.

  “As long as you can vouch for them and their work, that’s fine by me.” No hesitation, no hint of concern about having potentially traumatized military-trained men showing in her expression, the way a lot of other people did. She was making it damn hard for him not to want this job.

  He had no further questions and had hours of work ahead of him to put together the quote. “Great. So, can I have my dog back now?” Well, his dog for now, anyway.

  Chuckling, she hugged Grits to her, kissed the top of his soft little head. “I dun
no, he’s so adorable, I just might steal him from you.”

  Maybe once this job was done, if he thought it would be a good fit, Wyatt might consider letting Austen adopt Grits. Right now, the dog was his to look after. Wyatt took him when she handed him over, got some sloppy kisses on the chin by way of greeting. “He’s a licker.” Nothing he’d said or done so far had broken the dog of the habit.

  “Yes, I see that,” she said on a laugh, and followed him out to the front porch. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you, but I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out and consider the job.”

  Her words seemed genuine, and he appreciated the way she’d acknowledged his predicament without making a big deal of it. “You’re welcome. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  “Okay. Bye, Grits,” she called out as Wyatt reached the gravel of the driveway.

  Once in the cab of his truck, his cell buzzed with another text. Steeling himself, he pulled it out and read the message.

  You can’t get rid of me by blocking a number. You can’t escape. I’m coming for you.

  A twinge of unease hit him. Whoever this asshole was, he was persistent. Wyatt would call his sister, Charlie, to see if she or any of her tech buddies could find out who the caller was.

  Though he doubted anyone would be dumb enough to threaten him and not take precautions to cover their tracks. As a former Marine, with one brother the team leader of one of the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team sniper units, and another on the DEA FAST team, a potential stalker would be nuts to target him.

  Then again, whoever was behind this likely wasn’t playing with a full deck to begin with. Keeping that thought firmly in mind, he put his phone away and started his truck.

  As he drove away from the house with Grits perched beside him on the front passenger seat, he glanced up into the rearview mirror. Austen stood on the porch, watching him. If he was honest, she looked good there. The place suited her. And he was glad she cared about the property so much.

  He pushed out a long breath and considered his next move. The house and the Miller family meant enough for him to take on this project. That way he could ensure he did everything possible to restore the house and preserve at least some part of the family’s memory.