This Hero for Hire

by Cynthia Thomason

  “Now that’s just nonsense,” Albee said. “This is the first time you’ve come home for any length of time in years, and I’m concerned about you. Things have changed since you were a girl. I have enemies...”

  “Well, I don’t! At least none other than Sam Jonas.”

  She took two steps until she was standing over Boone. He turned his head to stare up at her with those intense green eyes. “Did you know about this?” she asked.

  “Not before this morning,” he said.

  “Well, you can forget about it. I hereby absolve you of any responsibility for my protection or well-being.”

  Her father fixed her with his most determined glare. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, Susannah. I’ve hired Boone. He comes well recommended...”

  “I’m sure he does, Daddy. I’ve seen him handle escaping chickens, and I can tell he’s a qualified professional.” She immediately regretted the snarky comment.

  “Wow, thanks for that,” Boone said. “I guess I know how to handle chickens. Just maybe not local royalty, is that it?”

  “Sorry, but you don’t have to take this so personally,” she said. “This is no reflection on you. But I can take care of myself.”

  He just nodded his head several times. Was he agreeing with her or biding his time until the governor gave in? Susannah almost felt sorry for him. He’d probably been roped in by the governor’s powers of persuasion and didn’t know how to say no. She didn’t know this cop well, but she’d already determined that he wasn’t the type to be happy playing nursemaid, even if he probably was raking in a good paycheck.

  A few moments of awkward silence followed until the governor finally said, “I’m sorry you’re upset, Susannah, but this is how it’s going to be. Either you let me leave this house tomorrow with a feeling of confidence about your safety or you can gas up that truck of yours and head back to Oregon, where you’re not in the middle of a nasty election. Much as I’d like to have you on my team, and I do, I won’t risk your well-being to make it happen.”

  She was going to lose this argument, but Susannah tried one more point. “So you’d rather have this man...” She almost backtracked at the affront in Boone’s eyes. He was getting good at pretending to be insulted. “...A stranger, move in with me?”

  “He’s not a stranger. He’s a Braddock, for heaven’s sake. Family’s been here for generations.” Albee narrowed his eyes. “And he knows that if he tries anything, I’ll have his hide covering my library floor.”

  Boone pressed his lips together and stared at Susannah’s scowling expression. “I don’t think we need to worry about that, Governor.”

  Now he was insulting her?

  She crossed her arms, tapped the toe of her sandal under Boone’s chair. “Don’t you have anything to say about this?” she asked him.

  “I had plenty to say this morning when this all came up,” he said. “Yet, here I am, having dinner like I was one of the family. But I’ve had a few more hours than you’ve had to adjust to the idea.”

  She switched her focus to her father. “So, Daddy, how will this work exactly? Are you going to have a cot moved into my bedroom so my new best friend can keep an eye on me 24/7?”

  “Now you’re the one who’s being ridiculous and downright out of line,” Albee said. “We have six bedrooms in this house. As long as Boone picks one near yours...and stays there, I’ll be satisfied.” He pointed a finger at Boone. “Just remember, son, I know your mama and daddy.”

  Susannah wondered what communication procedures her father had set up between him and Boone. Was the cop expected to report her comings and goings every day? She knew if the governor had had his way and installed his own security team in the house, she wouldn’t have had a chance to pursue her goal with Cyrus Braddock. His men would report everything to their boss on a daily basis.

  She apparently was going to have to live with this arrangement, so maybe she could make a friendly adversary of Boone, if not a friend in the truest sense of the word. At least he might not run to his boss with every single detail about her activities. After all, they were both pawns in her father’s scheme. More important, because her plan involved Boone’s grandfather, she had to establish a cordial line of communication between her and the cop.

  She stuck out her hand and smiled, though the effort almost made her lips hurt. “I guess I should welcome you to our home, Officer. This is going to be interesting.”

  He hesitated as if he feared she’d magically shoot a fire bolt from her palm. But then he took her hand and held it. Not really a shake, but more a gentle acceptance of the inevitable as fellow victims of gubernatorial manipulations. “I thought we decided earlier that you’d call me Boone.”

  “Fine, Boone. I’m not going to cook meals like this every night,” she said. “And I won’t cook meat, ever. You will have kitchen privileges, but you should know your way around an oven.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I don’t abide messes. Clean up after yourself and don’t expect the housekeeper to trail after you picking up your dirty socks.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Now she wondered if he was actually beginning to enjoy this. He’d undergone a transformation in the past few minutes. When he’d arrived at the front door, he’d looked much like a deer in headlights. Now he exuded a confidence that bordered on cocky. And oddly, she found herself drawn to this side of Boone. He wasn’t a pushover. As long as she could get him on her side...

  He stood. “If we’re done here, Governor, I think I’ll pass on dessert. I’ve got to pack a bag. I’ll be here when you call tomorrow afternoon. I have a few chores to attend to at my grandfather’s place in the morning.”

  “You’re going to your grandfather’s?” she asked. This was the chance she needed. Arriving for a meeting with Cyrus accompanied by the old man’s grandson could be a real bonus. “I’d like to ride along if that’s okay.”

  “You want to go to my grandfather’s? It’s on the other side of town.”

  “I know. Remember earlier when I told you I’ve always thought that piece of property was especially lovely? And tomorrow is supposed to be a beautiful day. A nice drive would be a good chance for us to get to know each other better.” And a great chance for her to let Cyrus Braddock see what buddies she was with his grandson.

  “I think that’s a fine idea,” Albee said. “You two kids get together in the morning, and I’ll talk to you before I leave about election issues, Susie.”

  She walked Boone to the door. Yes, she could make this work. A bit of charm, an appearance of cooperation. She might even persuade Boone to her way of thinking.

  “See you tomorrow, Boone,” she said. “I look forward to seeing your grandfather again. I remember him from when I was a little girl and he brought the ponies to the fair.” And I’m almost one hundred percent certain that he and I will make a deal on that level piece of property.

  Boone’s eyes narrowed and grew a dark, almost forest green. “You won’t see my grandfather, Susannah.”

  “Why not?”

  “He died almost three weeks ago.”

  “What?” She gripped the doorframe. Her mind raced. Despite her shock, she had to say something appropriate. “I...I’m sorry to hear that.” If he only knew.

  “Thanks. His passing was very unexpected. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BOONE TURNED HIS windshield wipers up another notch and glanced at the passenger in his truck cab. “So, exactly what weather forecaster predicted this beautiful day you were talking about?”

  Using her palm, Susannah swiped at the condensation on the window and peered out at the continuing rain. “I can’t remember now. Obviously not a very good one.”

  “You could have canceled, you know. I would have understood.”

 
“A little rain wouldn’t stop me. I wanted to drive out here.”

  “With me?”

  “Of course with you.” She gave him a brief smile. “What good would it do me now to try and avoid you anyway?”

  Boone reminded himself not to be flattered. The Rhodes family seemed to operate with ulterior motives, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Susannah had one beyond her professed desire to “get to know him better” by driving to his grandfather’s farm. Something was up. A woman didn’t just return to her roots and announce that a certain patch of land had stayed in her memory for years. If she did have something up her sleeve, he was going to discover what it was.

  She turned slightly in her seat and seemed to be studying his profile. “I like your cowboy hat,” she said.

  Automatically he removed the hat and set it on the seat beside him. Running his fingers through his hair he remembered he needed a haircut. “Don’t really need it today,” he said. “No sun.”

  “You don’t look anything like a cop today.”

  Of course he didn’t. He was about to feed chickens and muck horse stalls. His oldest worn jeans and rattiest police academy T-shirt was his uniform for barn chores. He smiled. “I’m only a cop forty hours a week. The rest of the time I’m strictly into maintenance.”

  They only had about five miles to go to reach his grandfather’s land. Boone would do what he usually did—feed, water and turn out the two horses if the blasted rain stopped. Then he’d gather the eggs the layers had left him, shovel horse poop and put down fresh straw. When those chores were accomplished, he’d check the farmhouse, make sure everything was as it should be. This was a lonely job these days, now that no one was living in the place.

  He supposed he’d have to decide something about the house and the contents fairly soon. Every stick of furniture his grandparents had purchased for the house remained inside. The china cupboard still held his grandmother’s fancy dishes.

  His brother, Jared, had been sending hints that they should be considering their options with regard to their inheritance. But not yet. Boone still liked sitting on the front porch some evenings and watching the sun set over the Blue Ridge foothills. When his grandfather had built the house fifty years ago, he’d positioned the structure to catch the finest views.

  But hanging onto the house for its views wasn’t the primary reason Boone wanted to wait on a decision. He loved the house. When he was ready to give up his place in town and commit to caring for property full time, he might move out here. Jared wouldn’t be interested in moving in. He liked his modern, fully equipped new place in Atlanta. Jared liked everything he had. A good job that had required a college education, a beautiful wife and two gorgeous girls Boone adored. The man who had everything could wait while Boone at least had his sunsets.

  “How long will we be here?” Susannah asked.

  “About an hour, hour and a half. I’ve hired a local kid to come in the afternoons to repeat the chores I do this morning.”

  “Seems like a lot of responsibility,” she said. “Are you thinking of selling Cyrus’s horses and maybe cutting down on the work?”

  “I’d never do that. First of all, they aren’t my grandfather’s horses. The bay is mine. The palomino is my brother Jared’s.” He thought about adding that the horses were like his family now that Jared was living in Atlanta and his parents were off in their motor home, but he refrained. How could this woman understand that kind of an attachment to a four-legged beast? In fact, despite her campaign for ethical treatment of animals, he wondered if she’d ever had a pet.

  Even though Boone’s family was spread around the country right now, he did have friends, and he was grateful for them. Guys on the force, Bobby and Mike, the two coaches at the high school. Even Menendez if she would only be satisfied with friendship.

  After another few minutes, he pointed ahead. “There’s the old place now.” He rolled down his window and stuck his arm outside. “I think the rain has nearly stopped, too. Maybe I can make quick work of this before it starts up again.”

  He slowed and turned into the gravel drive, bypassing the house and heading directly for the barn. He parked where two well-worn ruts perfectly fit his truck tires. “You want to wait here in case the sky opens up again?”

  “Heavens no.” She jumped down from the cab. “I want to look around. And I’m happy to help you.”

  Gee, what job should he give her? Let her handle two sixteen-hand horses, lift heavy shovelfuls of hay or muck out smelly stalls? Which one would she like? He was pretty sure she’d never done any of those things, but he could appease her if she really wanted to lend a hand.

  “Sure,” he said, joining her at the front of the truck. “How about gathering the eggs from the coop? A basket is hanging just inside the barn door. If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll make sure the layers are outside having their breakfast before you go in.”

  “Why should that matter? I think I proved yesterday that I’m not afraid of chickens.”

  Without thinking, he raised one of her hands. “Have you ever tried to take eggs from under a chicken before?”

  “Never had the pleasure.”

  “Well, they don’t like it. If you don’t ease in from the side without the chick seeing you, she’s likely to leave a trail of peck marks on this delicate hand.” He grinned. “And a few feathers on this clean jacket.”

  “My hands aren’t so delicate,” she said, and he had to agree. She had long, slim fingers and blunt-cut nails. But the knuckles were wide, and her skin was just the slightest bit calloused.

  She took her hand from his. “But I don’t think I’d like to test the ladies’ patience. I’ll wait until you get them outside. And I can do more than gather eggs,” she said, removing her rain jacket and tossing it into the truck.

  “That should be fine for today,” he said, noticing the bright yellow T-shirt she wore tucked into her jeans. She was a ray of sunshine on this cloudy day. He shook his head. He had no business thinking of her in terms of stupid metaphors. She was his job and, on this day, his mysterious companion...one with a soft, semi-delicate hand that had felt surprisingly good nestled in his own.

  “While you get the chicks outside, I think I’d like to walk out to that level field over there,” she said, pointing to an enviable stretch of flat land that his grandfather had farmed for years. Unfortunately, age had caught up with Gramps, and the land had lain fallow for almost a decade.

  “Sure. Go ahead.” Boone started to go to the barn but stopped and turned back when his curiosity got the best of him. Now was as good a time as any to get to the bottom of this concern for Braddock land.

  “Susannah, what’s your interest in this place, that field particularly?” he asked. “You didn’t ride this far merely to get to know me. There’s plenty of time for that. We’re going to be sharing the same house.”

  Her eyes widened. “Well, yeah. But it’s like you just said. We’re going to be living together. I don’t think it’s too soon to get to know someone who’s going to be my roomie.”

  “Okay, but that’s not the full story. And before we leave here this morning, I’m going to find out what it is.”

  She frowned at him. “Now you sound like a cop. I didn’t think you were on duty, Boone.”

  He brushed his hair off his forehead and settled his hat low on his brow. “I’m starting to think I’m never going to be off duty again as far as you’re concerned.”

  “Fine. Obviously you think I have some secret plan, so when the chores are done, we’ll talk.”

  He smiled. “So I’m right? There is a secret plan?”

  “Something like that. And you’ve got to know some time. But go on and do what you have to do.”

  The mystery deepened. Boone walked into the barn and relaxed when he heard the familiar and comforting sounds of his horses. Pawing soun
ds, recognition sounds, whinnies of hunger. He picked up a pitchfork and got to work. This was natural. This he understood. Even if he didn’t understand Susannah Rhodes. Yet.

  * * *

  WITH THE EGG basket draped over her arm, Susannah stood at the entrance to the barn and peered inside. The rain had stopped for good, and the sun was now hot and bright slanting through the cracks in the old wood siding. “Boone, are you in here?”

  “Out here,” he answered. “Come on through the barn and out to the paddock.”

  She walked down the wide aisle, her footsteps kicking up bits of dust and straw. The barn was old but tidy. She expected to wrinkle her nose at smells every bit as offensive as the odors that had clung to her yesterday. But no. She only sniffed leather tack, fresh straw and the fertile scent of grains. Boone had obviously finished cleaning the stalls and replaced the soiled hay with new.

  Coming into the open again, she saw Boone leaning against a weathered, wooden fence. One booted foot was on the bottom rail. His arms were crossed on the top. The felt cowboy hat remained low on his forehead. He turned when he heard her approach. “How’d you do with those eggs?” he asked.

  She showed him the basket. “I don’t know if this is a good number or not, but there was at least one egg in each nest.”

  He looked inside. “About average. I usually gather about three dozen.”

  “I can see why you donate so many. You certainly can’t eat this many eggs.”

  “I’ll make sure they get to the shelter later,” he said, staring back at his horses. “But why don’t you take a dozen back to the house? It’d be nice if I could count on you to fix bacon and eggs every morning.”

  She almost dropped the basket. “What?”

  He turned and gave her a grin that made her heart feel like it had somersaulted in her chest. “Oh, that’s right,” he said. “You’re not cooking for me. I remember now.”

  “Very funny. But even if I were cooking for you, which I’m not, I wouldn’t fix bacon. Even if you fixed it yourself, I’d be concerned for your cholesterol if you ate that breakfast every day.”