Her Secret Protector

by Roxanne Snopek

  He was helping her, he told himself, to protect her from the vast army of creeps out there.

  He chuckled at himself. Who’d have thought a New York software and security king would end up here, acting like a gentleman-farmer-cowboy ready to defend a young lady’s honor?

  The whole scenario was a stretch, him raising a handful of Black Angus cattle for the fun of it, with a rag-tag herd of horses, retired, like him, and some laying hens that seemed to think they were retired.

  He laughed aloud and the cows flicked their tails in annoyance.

  Some gentleman.

  His smile faded. Some king.

  He ought to do Carrie Logan a favor and direct her to someone who didn’t have the potential to damage her by association.

  “Come on, boys.” The dogs followed Ethan to the barn, where the horses were awaiting their daily treats. While the initial introductions had been a little touchy, the animals all accepted each other now, which was good because in Montana, dogs that chased livestock rarely lived to do it twice.

  “Freeloaders.” He moved from one horse to the next, rubbing muzzles and patting necks. “It’s summer. You’ve got the best graze land around, and still, you’re not happy.”

  He didn’t regret the choice to take responsibility for his younger brother’s mistakes. Vincent had never denied dipping his fingers into the company pot, but he’d never explained it, either, which made Ethan think he’d been in more trouble than anyone knew.

  Investors, however, didn’t care about extenuating circumstances. They had demanded a fall guy and rather than see Vincent destroyed, Ethan stepped up. He was financially set, after all. It was the perfect opportunity to start over, start fresh. And aside from Vince, he had no one to keep him in New York.

  Scandal had a way of scattering friends. Not to mention fiancées.

  Though it had hurt at the time, ultimately he’d been spared a ruinous divorce, so in his mind, he’d come out ahead.

  Most importantly, Vincent seemed to be making good use of his second chance. Brothers had to stick together. Even if they were on opposite sides of the country.

  A set of whiskery lips tugged on his shirt sleeve.

  “All right, all right.” He held out a handful of carrots, divvying them out equally. One went to the big, pushy draft horse who’d once stood for months at a time with a catheter attached to her bladder.

  One went to the pretty thoroughbred he’d picked up at a sale, rather than see her go for slaughter. The unsightly scar on her front leg had made her invisible to the pleasure-riding crowd, but her personality was sweet and gentle as anyone could want.

  Maybe someone would be able to use her for trail rides. Wasn’t there a woman running a summer camp, somewhere? He could offer to let her use the mare as a show of goodwill?

  As Ethan tossed a couple of carrots to the twitchy mustangs who still wouldn’t let him touch them, he wondered if maybe he could offer Carrie a similar deal. She was already concerned about his fee – as she should be – but what if she agreed to be something of an ambassador for him.

  She might even be able to put in a good word with the local business association so they’d finally allow him to join.

  Feeling buoyed by the idea, he approached the ancient, grumpy Shetland pony who’d come with the property.

  “I haven’t forgotten you, Shandy,” he said, holding the carrot out. “Now. Behave yourself.”

  The old gelding put his ears back, shook his head, and snapped yellow teeth at Ethan’s fingers.

  “Uh, uh, uh,” he scolded mildly, withholding the carrot. “Try again.”

  Shandy had belonged to the tenants who’d been on the ranch when he’d bought it. The pony had been their daughter’s, but the animal was too old and too cranky to start over with another child. Ethan had promised them that it could stay on the ranch and live out his time in peace, never expecting him to last the first winter, let alone four more after that.

  Finally, with great reluctance, the pony took the treat politely.

  “See?” He patted the little animal on the neck. “It pays not to be such a crab ass.”

  Ethan cleaned up the feed room, swept the floor and put away the veterinary supplies before going back outside into the sunshine, then called the dogs to the far corral he’d fenced for obedience and agility work. Whenever he knew he’d be gone most of the day, he made sure to give them some dedicated exercise before he left.

  The training area had once been a horse paddock, a feature that had been the deciding factor when he purchased the property four years ago. Half of the enclosure was open, half was covered, with one wall that protected the area from the prevailing winter winds.

  “Good boys, good boys,” he crooned, tossing them each a tug toy and hauling them around for a few minutes. Eventually they began tugging with each other, and then it devolved into a wrestling-chasing-running-for-the-hell-of-it it free-for-all.

  Suddenly they stopped playing and, as one, lifted their heads. Ashur let out a low growl, his hackles up. The other two ran to the fence, barking frantically.

  A bear, probably. This far out of town, there were always a few wandering around, making a nuisance of themselves.

  “Enough!”

  He called the dogs and, with great reluctance, Ashur and Mars left the fence line, muttering and growling deep in their throats. Gun, however, was beside himself, snarling and throwing himself at the rails, smart enough not to pursue, but too dumb to know that a bear might pre-empt him.

  “Gun! Here!”

  Ethan used his most authoritative voice and this time got the dog’s attention. Gun’s tail went down and he slunk, still rumbling his concern, to join his companions.

  He definitely needed more work.

  On the way back to the house, Mars lifted his head, then let out a woof. Instantly the other dogs joined in and ran over to the driveway. A moment later, Ethan heard the crunch of tires on gravel, and then, a van appeared.

  The logo on the side read Animal Control.

  “Dogs, here,” he shouted. “Come!”

  They returned to his side reluctantly, always ready to make new friends and curious about another visitor so soon after yesterday.

  This, however, wasn’t likely to be a social call.

  “Good morning,” said Ethan, striding toward the van.

  A man dressed in coveralls stepped out of the van, holding a clipboard against his chest. He glanced around him, a worried frown on his homely face. The name embroidered underneath the municipal logo identified him as Melvin.

  “Mr. Ethan Nash?” he said, peering out from behind the open van door.

  “That’s me,” said Ethan. He walked forward and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. Melvin, is it?”

  Ethan knew exactly where this was going, but he wasn’t about to make it easy on the man.

  “Uh, yeah,” said Melvin, stepping out to return the handshake. “Likewise.”

  Again, he scanned the yard.

  “If you’re looking for my dogs, Melvin,” said Ethan, pointing, “they’re over there. They’d love to meet you but some people find them a little intimidating, so I told them to wait.”

  Melvin’s eyes widened. He looked down at his clipboard.

  “We had, uh, a complaint.” He unclipped a piece of paper and handed it to Ethan. “About the dogs.”

  “My dogs?” Ethan allowed incredulity to fill his voice. “Those three over there?”

  “Roaming at large.” Melvin sounded like he had a golf ball stuck in his throat. “In a public area.”

  “That’s odd,” said Ethan, crossing his arms and keeping his gaze on the other man. “My property is fully fenced, as you see. And my dogs never leave it without me.”

  “Sorry, man. I’m just the messenger. It seems there was some concern about the safety of children.”

  Blondie-Amanda. It had to be.

  Ethan looked over to where the trio of canines waited expectantly.

  “Those clowns? T
hey love children. Come here, boys,” he called.

  Melvin jumped back, but Ethan caught him by the arm. “Come on, these guys are big teddy bears. You’ll love them. You do like dogs, right?”

  “Of course, whoa! Hey, now.”

  Ashur and Mars skidded to a stop and dropped into a polite sit at Ethan’s side. Gun’s arrival was more of a crash-landing into the back of Ethan’s knees, but he still sat, panting happily at the new friend in front of them.

  “Say hi, boys,” said Ethan. As before, each dog lifted a paw and waved it at Melvin, who was instantly charmed. He squatted down and greeted them all in turn and when he stood up again, Ethan knew he’d changed the man’s opinion.

  “What happened at the park was a misunderstanding,” said Ethan. “I spoke with the women involved and when I left, they didn’t seem upset anymore.”

  “They didn’t file the complaint, Mr. Nash,” said Melvin, looking even more uncomfortable now, but not about the dogs. “It came from the Mayor’s office.”

  Chapter Five

  ‡

  “I’m deeply regretting some of my life decisions right now.” Carrie stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, and cast a dark glare at her perky cousin. “My eyes hurt. My head hurts. My hair hurts. I blame you.”

  “You had four itty-bitty glasses of wine over three hours, plus nachos and jalapeño poppers,” said Jess, sweeping toast crumbs off the counter. She was fully dressed, hair done, makeup on. “You’re hardly on track for detox. Have some coffee, you’ll be fine.”

  Carrie took a tentative sniff in the direction of the coffee pot. “Ugh.”

  “A big plate of bacon, eggs, hash browns and waffles is the best cure, but since you live in the boonies, and we’re out of groceries, I’d suggest toast slathered with butter and jam.” Jess gathered her purse, then glanced into the mirror beside the fridge and smiled, bright and brittle.

  “Why are you so chipper?”

  The grin fell away and Jess’s jaw tightened. “This is my game face, honey. You know what they say. Fake it ’til you make it. Worth a try.”

  Her armor cracked for a brief moment, just long enough for Carrie to see the effort it took for her to appear strong and impenetrable. The job at the garage was indeed hellacious for a girl who liked things pretty and clean and fun. But she was doing it. No one kept Jess down for long.

  At least, not until now.

  Jess gave her hair one last pat. “I’m off to work. Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck.” Carrie’s voice softened. “You never have.”

  “Shows what you know.” Her voice was husky. “Coffee, Care-Bear. And carbs. See you tonight.”

  She gave Carrie a quick hug, then left the house in a swirl of perfume and hairspray. A moment later Carrie heard the disturbing rumble and thump of her cousin’s junker car starting up in the driveway. The thing was a deathtrap.

  Even though Jess was dealing with so much of her own crap, she’d been an excellent, non-judgmental shoulder for Carrie to unload on. It felt good to share her worries with someone who cared, and reminded her of how much she’d missed having her cousin around.

  She took a quick shower, dressed, gave Belinda enough attention to keep her from destroying the place, then poured a cup of coffee and sat down with her laptop. She clicked into her usual social media sites, eventually making her way onto Bethany’s personal page. She was curious how the poor girl was doing.

  Over the past year, Bethany had posted tons of romantic photographs documenting their engagement and the wedding plans. Carrie’s heart went out to her, thinking of how much more difficult a broken engagement was now, in the days of instant information and breakups via status updates.

  Would she have taken all her photos down, or just stopped posting?

  She thought of what Ethan had said about how nothing was really secure anymore. Did Bethany know how vulnerable her images were, how many people were out there, looking for ways to hurt others, just for the sake of hurting them?

  To her surprise, there was no announcement about the wedding being off. The romantic pictures were all still there. And there were new ones, too!

  Only nine weeks to go! read one caption.

  A drop of coffee caught in Carrie’s throat as she registered the close-up photo of a woman’s hand, outstretched so that her diamond ring sparkled in the light.

  She started coughing, sloshing her mug, sending liquid splashing dangerously close to her keyboard.

  “Damn!” She managed between throat spasms. She grabbed a handful of tissues and blotted the spill, then went back to the page. It must have been someone else. Or it was an old photo she’d somehow missed.

  Nope. It was Bethany Kyle. Posted this morning.

  Can’t wait to be together forever! said the next one, in case Carrie wasn’t convinced. Bethany and Elliot, arm in arm, backlit by the sunset over Cherry Lake.

  Again, just posted.

  “What. The. Hell.”

  “Toodles,” called a voice from the kitchen door. “Anyone home?”

  Aunt Pansy. The woman, who was Grandfather’s age and a good friend of his, walked all over town winter or summer, rain or shine. She had no family of her own that anyone knew of, nor was she actually related. She’d just been Aunt Pansy to everyone as long as anyone could remember.

  She always had numerous invitations to holiday dinners, knew the inner workings of pretty much every family, and had a special fondness for Nate Jackson’s offspring, especially Carrie and her cousins. That old Jackson shine.

  Could use a little polish, that shine.

  She heard the sound of the front door closing as Pansy made herself at home.

  “Carrie? I just passed Jess on the road. I know you’re here. I brought muffins. Heard you were out painting the town last night. Figured you could use some fortification.”

  Carrie closed her eyes. “Hey, Aunt Pan.”

  She got up from the couch and met the woman in the kitchen.

  “Look at you,” said Pansy, shaking her head. “That Jessica. She’s a bad influence.”

  “It’s not her fault,” said Carrie automatically. She reached out for the paper bag. “Morning glory?”

  Pansy nodded. “Carrots, raisins, pineapple, nuts, bran. Plus bear-claws. Cures what ails you. Is that coffee fresh?”

  “Of course.” Carrie gestured for Pansy to sit down at the table.

  “So?” she said, her wrinkled face alight with curiosity. “How’s my girl today?”

  In some ways, Pansy was more like a mother to her than Cathy was, thought Carrie as she fixed a mug for the woman. She listened. More to the point, she seemed to know intuitively when something was wrong. Which made her both an enormous comfort, and a danger.

  It was tough to keep things from Pansy.

  “I’m okay.”

  Pan arched an eyebrow.

  Carrie shrugged. “Business troubles.”

  “Too much work, not enough time?”

  “Something like that.”

  Not at all like that, but she didn’t want to worry Pansy unnecessarily. Ethan would take care of her real problem and no one would ever be the wiser. “Hey, do you know what’s going on with Bethany Kyle? She called me to say her wedding was off. But this morning, I saw new photos on her SnapShot site.”

  Pansy took a muffin, tore it in half and handed one piece to Carrie. “Oh, that girl is never going to have a life until she gets out from under that steel thumb of her father’s.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “So she told you the wedding was off, did she?” Pansy wiped crumbs from the corner of her mouth. “In so many words?”

  “She did.” Carrie paused. “Well. She was crying. And she said she had to cancel. She sounded heartbroken. I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t take it personally, Care-Bear.” Aunt Pansy reached across the table and patted Carrie’s hand. “Like I said, her daddy runs the show. She’s your friend, but you know how it is. The one with the
cash makes the rules.”

  Carrie blinked. “Are you saying the wedding’s still on… but she dumped me? She’s not going with Forever Yours anymore?”

  Hurt battled with anger inside her. She’d refunded the deposit, thinking the poor girl was suffering.

  “Poor thing, she’s even more of a good girl than you are,” said Aunt Pan. “It’s no life at all, spending your days in the center of the boat where you can’t see the view. You’ve got to go to the edges now and then, get things rocking, if you want to live. You know what I mean, I think. Don’t you?”

  Pansy looked at her curiously, searchingly, as if expecting a particular answer that Carrie wasn’t ready to give her.

  Except for Jess and now Ethan, no one knew about the work she used to do. Well, Jess, Ethan and the women who’d hired her. And she doubted any of them were talking.

  Aunt Pansy watched her for another moment, then changed the subject.

  “So, did you have fun last night?”

  Fun? Carrie tried to remember. There’d been laughter and music. Her cousin had definitely had fun.

  Good old Jess, with her lousy childhood, mud-spattered past, and at best, a lukewarm welcome back to the town she’d vowed she was done with, had kicked up her heels as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She’d danced with every guy in the place and even forced Carrie to get up with a few.

  But mostly, she’d watched in quiet awe and a bit of envy. She wouldn’t mind slow dancing, but that was the sort of thing you did with someone you cared about. Not any old guy with his elbow up on the bar.

  Ethan moved like he’d be a good dancer.

  “It was good to get out,” she told Pansy.

  “So, dish. Who went home with whom?” Pansy leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. “I need to get started on my knitting now, if there are any babies coming next winter.”

  Carrie laughed, despite herself. “Sorry to tell you, but Jess and I came home together, at the same time and we each went to bed alone. You’ll have to look elsewhere for your babies. And since when do you knit?”