Protected by a Hero

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

  She shook her head again. “But what about Dax? I can’t afford–” She faltered. She probably could for what he was paying her, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave her son. She didn’t have anyone in town she trusted besides Dottie, and the woman had given her so much already, she wouldn’t dream of imposing further. Dax didn’t like being away from her either.

  Travis gave her a reassuring smile. “Dax too. And if we work late, he can go to sleep on the couch.”

  “Once school starts, he’ll have to go to bed early.”

  “No problem. You tell me what he needs, and I’ll take care of it.”

  Her insides turned to pudding even as her heart beat out a warning. Falling for him because he was sweet to her son would surely end in heartbreak.

  “Pick you up at four?”

  “Today?” her voice cracked, stuttering along with her pulse.

  Travis handed her a folded piece of paper. “What’s this? Oh.” Her breath stuck in her throat as her brain registered the amount on the check. More money than she’d ever held in her life. Her hands went cold and clammy in the morning sun. “Travis?” She met his eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

  Hunger flared in his eyes, heating her blood. And just as fast, his eyes shuttered and he nodded curtly “Yep. We have an agreement.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And about that…the other night…”

  Ah, yes.

  She swallowed down the ache that blossomed in her throat. The other night had been a mistake. Holding up a hand, she stopped him with a smile that felt just shy of genuine. “Dax and I had a lovely time.” Somehow, she managed to keep the catch out of her voice. But she couldn’t stop the painful squeezing in her chest. She’d never be good enough for a man like Travis. She was too poor. Too burdened, too… everything.

  Her only consolation was the tortured look that flickered briefly across Travis’s face. “We’re going to be working closely together. So it’s probably good we establish some boundaries.”

  She nodded vigorously, blinking hard at the sudden itch in her nose. “Of course. We’ve always been professional with each other. Why would that change?”

  “Exactly,” he answered a little too enthusiastically.

  An awkward silence settled between them.

  This would not do. If she was going to survive working with him, she not only had to get a grip on her libido, she had to be able to talk to him like he was a normal person, not the super sexy superhero cop she’d imagined him into. She filled a paper cup and held it out. “Coffee?”

  His hand brushed hers and remained a second too long. Electricity raced up her arm, swirling around her nipples and settling in an ache between her legs.

  “Thanks,” he murmured, taking it from her.

  She could do this. “Day off today?”

  He shook his head, eyes hooded as he stared at her intently. “Nope. Helping Hope Sinclaire break a set of mustangs she’s rescued.”

  “Oh.” That seemed to be the only word she could form around him this morning.

  “Once I know what I’ve gotten into, and it’s safe, do you think Dax would like to come and watch?”

  It would be so much easier to keep her distance if he didn’t demonstrate such a soft spot for Dax. “I’m sure he’d love to. He thinks the world of you. And between his visit to the Hansens and the pony rides at the fairgrounds, you’ve succeeded in making a horse nut out of him.”

  Travis grinned at her and cocked an eyebrow before taking a sip of his coffee. “Good. Then my plan is succeeding.”

  “And what plan is that?”

  “Someone’s gotta teach Dax how to be a proper cowboy. So it’s a date then?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll let you know when. In the meantime, meet you back here at four?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Travis lifted the cup. “Thanks for the coffee.” He turned and headed down the street.

  She couldn’t help staring as he walked away, mesmerized by the way the jeans molded to his ass. Until she caught Dottie staring at her with a knowing smile tipping up the corners of her mouth.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Of course, she’d had to wear the blue shirt today. The one that made him want to drown in her big blue eyes. With a grunt of frustration, Travis crushed the empty paper cup and tossed it in the nearest trash bin as he walked down Main.

  Four construction trailers stood in the middle of the street. Reconstruction would begin in earnest today. That would give everyone something positive to focus on for the remainder of the long, hot summer. With luck, some of the buildings would be finished in time for the holidays. He could only hope.

  But even the prospect of a brand new Main Street wasn’t enough to pull his thoughts from Elaine for more than a second. She’d looked so sweet and uncertain, standing there, staring up at him. The urge to fist his hand in her ponytail and tilt her face up so he could take a taste of that full mouth had been powerful, and had his cock pressing painfully against his zipper.

  And what had he done right after he’d insisted they keep strict boundaries? Gone and made a date with her by way of bringing Dax back to the Hansens’. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Another rule broken.

  How many rules did he have to break before he got burned? The odds were increasingly against him where Elaine was concerned. He was a former Navy SEAL for chrissakes. The sharpest of the sharp. He could calculate wind drift for a bullet from a thousand yards away. He could kill a man before the man was even aware he was there. Why couldn’t he exercise any self-control where Elaine was concerned?

  He’d have to do better.

  He’d calmed down by the time he joined the Hansens down by their training pen. “Where’s Cassidy?”

  Parker gave him a look of surprise. “I didn’t know she was coming this morning.”

  “She better,” he growled, irritation flashing through him. “We had a deal.”

  Parker scowled, then turned to Hope. “What do you need us to do?”

  She gave each of them a hard look. “These horses are already spooked. We want to gentle them, and that starts with our first interaction. Follow my instructions and we’ll be good. Go all cowboy on me, and we’re gonna have problems. Understand?”

  Parker and Gunnar nodded, and she swung her gaze to him. “Travis?”

  He nodded once, not caring that he was glowering. Where in the hell was Cassidy?

  An hour later, they were hot and sweaty. The horses were calm in their new environs, and still no sign of Cassidy.

  “Travis,” Hope called out. “You’re up first.” She held out a harness and a lead line. “We’re starting from scratch here. You’re going to have to get the horse to trust you enough that she’ll let you put on a halter.”

  “What do I do?” He could do anything, she just needed to show him once and he’d have the sequence committed to memory.

  She chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s more being than doing. For now, just walk around the ring.”

  The big bay snorted at the other end of the pen and eyed him warily. He could do this. How many times had he charmed virtual strangers, gained critical information his unit was able to use to save lives? Except once, the voice in his head condemned.

  “Get the horse moving,” she called quietly. “Pick a direction.”

  He raised his hands and the horse started, trotting around the fence and stopping on the other side of the ring. He dropped his hands. “Now what?”

  “You have to keep it moving. Move in closer.”

  Focusing on the horse like she was a target, he advanced. She whinnied and hopped, moving around to the other side. After several tries, he succeeded in getting the horse to circle the ring, but even after Hope demonstrated how to build trust and get the horse to let her put on the halter, Travis failed repeatedly, frustration growing with each attempt.

  “Okay, back off for a sec. Walk with me,” Hope tugged on his sleeve. “What’s her name?” Elaine’s face shimmer
ed before him. “Flipper,” he responded automatically. He hadn’t thought of the imaginary mascot Weston had made up during a low point in BUD/S training for years. Flipper the man-eating mermaid had gotten them through the worst moments of their ordeal. But he was on land now, with no threat of having his balls chewed off. Of course, failing in front of the Hansens didn’t feel swell.

  “What’s going on, Travis?” Hope barked at him exasperatedly. “You’re confusing the horse. You’re sending it all sorts of mixed signals. I don’t know what kind of stuff is going on with you, but you either need to let it all out in the ring and get through it, or leave it on the other side. Flipper here deserves better.” She crossed her arms, waiting.

  Shit. Weston might as well be sitting on his shoulder. He could just see Weston’s smug grin as Hope went on. “You might be able to bullshit your friends, but a horse can always tell when you’re bullshitting.”

  Whose story are you living, Man? He could hear Weston asking. Weston was right. He should be living a good life for his fallen comrades. A life of enforced solitude didn’t honor the dead. It just made him dead.

  “Earth to Travis.” Hope waved a hand in front of his face. “You wanna try again? Or are you done?” The challenge in her voice was clear.

  “I’m in.”

  “Good. Let’s go again. Follow me.”

  This time, he settled his thoughts the way he did on a mission. Focusing only on the work in front of him, letting his awareness heighten. He was surprised when he checked his watch forty-five minutes later. He’d completely lost track of time in the pen with Hope. Instead, focusing on Flipper’s breathing, and the way she pricked her ears, or licked and chewed. His heart lifted the moment she dropped her head and let him place the halter over her ears. He gave her an appreciative scratch. “Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re a good girl.”

  “Good job, Travis. You made good progress with her today.”

  Excitement buzzed through him. There had been a moment in the pen when Flipper looked at him, and he swore she looked right into him. Right through the shit and into his soul. He wasn’t one to get hippy-dippy, but Hope was right. Somehow, Flipper could sense the bullshit. And when he’d let it go, had settled into his breathing, she’d calmed right down. He had to tell someone. There was too much energy ricocheting through his body to keep it all to himself. He pulled out his phone, then deflated.

  Who was he going to call? Weston?

  Elaine.

  His chest grew tight, and he slowly replaced the phone, excitement draining from him.

  Parker cleared his throat. “So I heard you’re running for sheriff?”

  Shit – how long did that take? He wasn’t ready to go public, even if he’d pretty much slapped Steve Lawson’s face with a glove the other day. He didn’t even have a website up yet. “I see the rumor mill is fast at work,” he answered a little too brusquely.

  “No one would be better.”

  Travis snorted as he fisted his hands on his hips, toeing the dirt. “Thanks. Not a done deal. Not sure I want the job.” He’d do the job. Hell, he’d be a great county sheriff, and people would be safer because of it. But given the billboards popping up, it might not be easy to beat Lawson. Weston had mentioned the day before that Lawson had the ear of the governor and other elected officials in the county, along with a hefty bank account.

  Travis could match it with his own funds, but every dollar he spent now took him a step farther from his dream of someday restarting the ranch. At least the barn was done and looking great. Too bad it would go unused except for a few as-yet-to-be-acquired horses.

  As soon as he could politely make his excuses, he took his leave, promising to return as often as his schedule would allow. He’d intended to go straight home, to shower and change before returning for Elaine and Dax. But instead, fifteen minutes later, he found himself staring at the new front door of Millie’s Organic Grocery.

  What in the hell was he doing? He didn’t cook. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking. Not real cooking.

  The kid would need dinner. And something better than the microwave burritos he usually grabbed from the gas station. Travis’s hand hovered over the handle. It wasn’t too late for him to turn around. No one would be the wiser.

  “Travis?” Millie Prescott yanked open the door just as he reached for the handle. Adrenaline shot into his legs, making them twitch. He should go. This was a bad idea.

  She stared at him quizzically. “Are you lost? Dottie’s is two blocks over.” She smiled up at him hopefully, her yellow hair a fuzzy halo, and he glanced behind her at her stocked shelves, taking in the markdowns.

  Shit.

  Even though she’d come through the storm relatively unscathed – her building had been narrowly missed – she was still struggling. He made a note to remind the force at their next morning staff meeting to make sure and stop by. It wouldn’t hurt him to stop by either. Maybe learn to cook, even though he’d never stop eating at Dottie’s or Gino’s Trattoria, or ordering tamales from Luci Cruz. He cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. “I need help,” he finally blurted out.

  Millie’s face lit with a huge smile. “You’ve come to the right place.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  At four o’clock sharp, Travis pulled up in Weston’s truck. Elaine had barely managed to get Dax showered and into a clean pair of shorts – he’d positively squirmed with excitement when he heard they were going to be visiting Travis’s ranch.

  “Does he have horses, too?”

  “I don’t know, kiddo. You’ll have to ask him.”

  Dax bounded over and waited impatiently as Travis hopped out of the truck looking positively yummy. Heat pooled between her legs. He’d showered and changed into a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Now she could secretly drool over the corded muscles and veins in his forearm as he drove.

  She couldn’t hear what Dax asked as he bent to give the boy a fist bump, but her pulse skittered at the smile he gave her son. Even Dax’s father, when he’d been alive, hadn’t shown this much interest in him. Travis seemed to genuinely like Dax, and it made her throat go all itchy.

  Travis stood, turning the weight of his gaze to her, heating her like a hot poker. “Shall we get started?”

  Business. This is just business, she reminded herself sternly. But she couldn’t help answering his smile with one of her own. His hand burned a hole in the small of her back as he followed her around the truck and opened the door for her. “Wait here while I get Dax settled.”

  He turned to help Dax into the back seat, and she caught a whiff of his spicy cologne. But it was the view of his shoulders stretching his shirt tight across his back as he bent to secure the seatbelt that had her squeezing the door handle to steady herself.

  Travis straightened and turned, towering over her in the small space the open door created. Her mouth went dry and she focused on the line of buttons going down his front, grateful for once that she couldn’t see his eyes through his aviators. He extended his hand. “Need a hand?” His voice scraped over her, sending a delicious shiver down her spine.

  All he’d have to do to win the election was say that to every woman in the county. How could anyone resist a voice with the burr of Elvis, but none of the drawl? Packaged in a hard body with a million-dollar smile? Lawson didn’t stand a chance. At least she hoped so. She shuddered to think what would happen to her if he won.

  Dax kept a running commentary from the backseat the entire drive from town. It was better this way, wasn’t it? No pressure to fill the silence with small talk. No opportunity for a misstep. But when the truck pulled over a little rise and she laid eyes on the big red barn and the two-story farmhouse with the wrap-around porch across the yard, she gasped. Her hand flew to her throat. “This is lovely, Travis. You have a lovely home.”

  A far cry from the dingy two room walk-up she’d lived in as a child before she’d finally run away. Or the abandoned house she’d squatted in the first time she
took a knife to her arm. The scene in front reminded her of a picture book she’d seen once as a little girl. So pretty. So… normal. Longing pressed on her chest. She’d never be able to give Dax anything as nice as this.

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it a home. At least right now. But it’s been in my family for generations.”

  “It looks like a storybook.”

  “Not what it used to be. Don’t have time for the upkeep.”

  “Will you have more time if you’re elected?”

  Travis grimaced and shook his head. “Probably not.” He sighed heavily.

  Open mouth, insert foot. She hadn’t even left the truck and already she’d misspoken. “Do you miss it?”

  Travis glanced over as he brought the truck to a stop. “Ranching? Sometimes. It’s a tough job. Seven day a week job. No vacation.”

  “Kind of like being a police chief. Or a Navy SEAL.”

  He let out a little laugh, nodding his head. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

  It spoke volumes to her that he’d chosen careers that demanded a high work ethic. Admiration filled her. She’d never met anyone who worked as tirelessly as he did.

  “As a rancher, you call your own shots. And you live close to the land. Both of which I like.”

  He looked unsettled. His finger tapped relentlessly on the steering wheel. He seemed like he wanted to say more. “But?”

  He shot her a look full of consideration. “I’m good at what I do. Crime’s down. People know each other better. We have a strong community, and I like to think I’m part of why that is.”

  “I think that’s why you’ll make a great sheriff.” He had to win.

  He shot her another grin that made her weak in the knees. “First, I have to win.”

  “Let’s get to it, then.”

  She slid down off the seat, and was struggling with the seat latch when she felt his hand at her back again, solid and warm. His breath skated across her neck, setting her pulse racing. “Need help?”