Their Rancher Protector

by Sasha Summers

  “What can I do?” Kyle asked. “To help?”

  Skylar didn’t hesitate for long. If she didn’t calm Brynn, Mya might wake up. The two of them had that twin connection. If Brynn was crying, Mya would cry. And once Mya started, she had a hard time stopping. “Can you get the baby? She’ll be fine if you just pick her up.” Skylar hurried to Brynn, knelt, drew her daughter close, and pressed playful kisses all over Brynn’s face. “Hey, sleepyhead. Did you know you were taking a nap with Jet? He was making doggy snores, sleeping right there, between you and Mya.”

  “Jet?” Brynn wiped the sleep from her eyes. “I did?” she sniffed, her breath wavering. “Where Jet?”

  “There.” Skylar loosened her hold so Brynn could see the dog. He’d returned to his spot beside Mya. “See?” She wiped the tears from Brynn’s cheeks.

  Brynn nodded, smiling. “Silly.”

  “He is silly,” Skylar agreed, tickling her tummy.

  Her uncle sighed loudly. “I don’t want that damn dog—”

  “Frank,” she said.

  “That dog needs to get out of my house. Visiting hours are over.” Frank took up his spot in his recliner, picked up the remote, and turned on the television. “It’s too loud.”

  It wasn’t. Not anymore. Brynn was calm and Greer... She wasn’t crying either.

  Skylar glanced over her shoulder, all the while cradling Brynn in her lap. She didn’t know what she’d expected but it wasn’t the image in front of her. Little Greer wide-eyed and silent, staring curiously up at Kyle. Kyle, his well-muscled arms holding Greer, wearing the exact same expression. Wonder, uncertainty, and, possibly, fascination. There was something about seeing her tiny baby cradled against the expanse of Kyle’s rock-hard chest that stirred an ache inside.

  Being out here, in the middle of nowhere, with no one to talk to—no one invested in her girls—wasn’t easy. She exchanged letters with some of the moms from Fort Pendleton, but it wasn’t the same. From birthdays to teething to first steps to meningitis, she’d weathered it all on her own. And she was fine; she was. But for a split second, she didn’t feel fine. She felt...lonely.

  Enough. She was a Marine’s wife. She had to be tough. It was the job.

  Skylar drew in a deep breath, pressed a kiss against Brynn’s head, and eased her daughter from her lap. “How about we get some juice and cookies and go have a picnic in the clubhouse?”

  Brynn popped right up then, all smiles. “Okay, Momma.”

  “Not my cookies.” Her uncle pointed the remote at Brynn.

  “No, Unca.” Brynn shook her head, her smile vanishing.

  Skylar glared at her uncle. He had no right to intimidate Brynn. Not now. Not ever. “Just get the yummy ones, Brynn.”

  Frank must have picked up on just how close she was to putting him in his place because he took one look at her and turned all his attention to the television.

  She hadn’t realized that Kyle was next to her until he spoke. “Mya’s a sound sleeper.”

  “You would be, too, if you couldn’t hear a thing. She’s deaf.” Her uncle sighed again, shaking his head. “What the hell do you think all those posters are poking holes in my walls for?”

  “Uncle Frank.” Skylar counted backward from five. It was true. Mya was deaf. But the way he spit it out was almost accusatory. Like it was a personal affront to him that Mya had lost her hearing. Like the stupid thumbtack holes were single-handedly depreciating his home’s value. “Kyle is my guest. He came a long way so the girls and I could meet Jet. Please be considerate—”

  “Considerate, huh? What about me? No one ever asked me if I was okay having a damn dog in my house, Skylar. Some dog you know nothing about, too. What if he bites one of the girls? Did you think about that?” he huffed. “Don’t you sass me about being considerate.”

  According to her uncle, he was never the problem. Everyone else was. She’d gotten used to it. Being as isolated as they were, she didn’t have much choice. But Kyle was watching, narrow-eyed and tense, which made it impossible to pretend her uncle’s behavior was acceptable.

  “How about I take Jet outside?” Kyle offered. “Maybe Brynn could help? Jet loves to play fetch.”

  “Thank you.” Skylar attempted to smile but she was pretty sure it didn’t work. “Brynn, do you want to go out with Jet and Kyle? Maybe you can show them the clubhouse.”

  “I wake Mya?” Brynn asked. “Gentle?” Brynn knew her twin so well. If Mya woke and Brynn was gone, she’d panic. Since Mya had lost her hearing, she’d become even more dependent on Brynn.

  “Gently.” Skylar nodded, reaching for Greer. “I’ll take her. She probably needs a change anyway.” Watching Kyle’s fascination give way to panic—like her baby girl was a ticking time bomb—almost made her laugh. She was pretty sure a dirty diaper couldn’t compare to what he’d seen on a tour in Afghanistan.

  “Oh. Right.” Kyle handed Greer over with the greatest care. What was it Chad had called him? A gentle giant? She could see it now.

  As soon as Greer saw her, her baby girl cooed and kicked her little legs.

  Kyle chuckled. “She knows who you are.”

  Frank grumbled something about missing his shows followed by the increase of the television volume.

  Real subtle, Frank. Skylar risked a glance Kyle’s way. The poor man had had no idea what he’d be driving into today. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He frowned. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He had more to say; she could tell. But whatever it was, the slight shake of his head and the compressed line of his lips told her he was holding back.

  “Mya,” Brynn murmured, drawing all eyes. Brynn knew her sister couldn’t hear but old habits were hard to break. Mya had been a precocious two-and-a-half-year-old, always watching and learning and laughing. Meningitis hadn’t just taken her daughter’s hearing; it had taken Mya’s confidence, too. To Skylar, that was the worst of it. “Mya.” Brynn bent over her sister, using her eyelashes to give Mya butterfly kisses against her cheek.

  Mya grinned, but her eyes stayed shut.

  Brynn added pats and tickles and hugs and, before long, Mya was sitting up, smiling ear to ear. When Mya saw Jet sitting beside her, staring at her with big brown eyes, Mya looped her arm around the dog’s neck and gave him a hug. Jet rested his head on top of hers, making that little contented grunt that was the equivalent of a cat purr.

  The simple show of affection, her girls and their father’s rescued dog, tugged even harder at Skylar’s heart.

  “Outside?” Brynn said, pulling Mya up.

  “Daw?” Mya asked.

  Brynn nodded. “Outside.” She pointed.

  Mya took her sister’s hand, patted Jet and headed for the door.

  “Thanks for taking them out. I’ll change Greer, get some cookies and juice boxes and be right out—okay, Brynn?”

  “ʼKay, Momma.” Brynn nodded, already leading Mya and Kyle outside.

  “Why is he hanging around, Skylar?” Frank was up and out of his recliner, hovering over her as she laid Greer in the portable crib that also served as a changing table. “I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. He’s after something.”

  “Frank.” She swallowed, focusing on her daughter—on giving Greer the smiles and attention she deserved. But once Greer was changed and secured back into the front pack, she faced her uncle. “He’s here for the girls, because Chad asked him to come. And whether or not you like it, this is our home, too. That’s what you said, remember?” She hadn’t meant to add that last bit. It was a dig, and they both knew it. He’d said all sorts of things to get her to do what he wanted. But there was no point in stirring him up—he’d never back down or see what he did as wrong. He honestly believed he’d been trying to better their circumstances. It had never occurred to him that betting Chad’s death gratuity money could result in a loss. Not just a little bit, all of
it... Everything she had to live on and provide for her children.

  But the damage was done. Her uncle was scowling. “You want him to stay so you can get him to feel sorry for you, fine by me. Get him upset over the sad state of Chad’s widow, needing a handout.”

  She brushed past him, grabbed the package of cookies and three juice boxes from the refrigerator and headed for the front door.

  “No one is keeping you here,” Frank barked. “You don’t like living under my roof—you go find yourself someplace else to live. Go on. How’re you going to make it with three mouths to feed?” He shook his head. “It’s my retirement check that supports you, don’t forget that.”

  Don’t say a word. Don’t respond. But the way he’d treated Kyle, the way he’d spat out Mya’s deafness, the way he’d looked at her as if she was ungrateful... It was too much.

  “How can I forget, Uncle Frank? Every time Greer needs diapers or baby food, you remind me how much we are taking from you.” She summoned as much courage as she could. “But don’t you forget that you spent all the money Chad had left for me and the girls. We have nothing. We can’t leave. You know that. You did that. I promise you as soon as we can go, we will.” She turned, proud of herself—until she saw Kyle Mitchell standing in the doorway.

  * * *

  Kyle Mitchell had grown up in a verbally combative family. Not when his father was alive. No, he had only golden memories of that time. But when his mother had remarried... Well, there wasn’t much he liked to remember after that. The one good thing that had come from all the yelling and door slamming and words that left gaping wounds and ever-lingering self-doubt was Kyle’s ability to shut down his anger. He’d vowed never to let anger overtake reason. No excuses.

  But right now? It was a struggle.

  It hadn’t taken long to see how stressed and exhausted Skylar was. How could she not be? Not that she let on, she was too proud. And, dammit all, he understood.

  But this man was her family. Skylar’s words were stuck on repeat, cycling through his mind and threatening his vow to keep his temper under control. What this man had done to his niece—to children? Kyle’s stomach roiled at the idea of such a betrayal.

  He saw red.

  The defensive tilt of Frank Kline’s head, the challenge on the man’s face, wasn’t helping Kyle with the whole control-your-temper thing.

  “Cookies,” Skylar said, the word brittle and forced—enough to make him stop imagining how gratifying it would be to knock that look off Frank Kline’s face.

  “Good.” He cleared his throat and tried again, hoping for a little less menace this time. If he were looking at Skylar, he might be able to manage it. “Good.”

  She all but herded him outside. Her light brown eyes remained fixed on his face until she’d pulled the door closed behind her.

  He drew in a deep breath, crossing the near-rotten wooden porch to grip the railing. If Skylar could keep it together, he could, too. Another deep breath.

  Behind him, he heard Skylar walking down the metal ramp. His gaze trailed after her, across the dusty patch of dirt and cacti and weeds that acted as the yard, to the girls’ clubhouse. “Cookies,” her singsong declaration reached him. She stooped and disappeared through the door of the clubhouse.

  As clubhouses went, it wasn’t much of one. Sheets of plywood with rough-cut holes for windows and a door. He ran a hand along the back of his neck, his gaze sweeping the horizon. None of this was right. His grip tightened on the railing. By now, he shouldn’t be surprised at the evil man was capable of. But this sort of betrayal, by her own family, was far worse. It was personal.

  “Kyle?” Brynn called out, her head peeking out of one of the windows. “Jet cookie?”

  Jet stuck his head out, almost like he knew what Brynn was asking and was waiting for an answer.

  Kyle smiled. “Maybe one. Careful, or he’ll try to eat them all.” His grip on the railing eased and he trotted down the metal ramp to the clubhouse. He could be angry later, when he was alone. Right now, he was going to have some cookies. He stooped, peering inside the clubhouse. “Hmm.”

  “It’s cramped.” Skylar smiled, bouncing Greer—who was free from the reverse backpack thing—on her knee. The girls sat on a wooden child-sized outdoor bench against one wall. Jet sat in the middle of the clubhouse, intently watching as the cookie bag was passed. “We’ll make room,” Skylar said, scooting her lawn chair over just enough for him to sit on the packed dirt ground.

  “Cramped, huh?” he asked.

  “Come in, come in.” Brynn waved him inside.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sat, his long legs stretched out through the front door so as not to take up all the room. “I like your clubhouse.”

  “Momma made.” Brynn was all smiles. “Princess house.”

  “I thought so.” He accepted the juice box from Skylar. “Veterinary tech, kid-juggler, and builder. Sounds like you’re handy to have around.”

  Skylar smiled, though she was having an extra hard time meeting his gaze. “The girls and I went walking and found some old wood—”

  “An’ a snake,” Brynn added.

  “And a snake.” Skylar nodded.

  “It tried to bite Momma,” Brynn said, shuddering.

  “But he didn’t bite me.” Skylar patted Brynn on the head. “And I took care of that snake.”

  “With a shovel.” Brynn’s eyes went round. “Bye, snake.”

  Kyle burst out laughing then. “Bye, huh?”

  Skylar cooed at Greer. “Mommy’s not going to let those bad ol’ rattlesnakes anywhere near her baby girls.”

  Kyle watched the exchange, his admiration for the woman growing. “You found the wood, took care of the snake, and then what happened?”

  “Momma carried it, mostly.” Brynn pointed at the plywood overhead, then the walls. “Mya and me helped.” Her little finger tapped some smaller boards, quite proud of herself. “We all worked real hard.”

  “It was hard work.” Skylar smiled. “But we did it all on our own, didn’t we?” She was facing Mya, her fingers and hands moving, each action clear and intentional.

  Mya nodded, pointing at her chest. “Me, too.”

  He smiled and gave both the girls a thumbs-up. “Good job.”

  Mya smiled. Brynn smiled. And Skylar...was staring at him. Interesting. As soon as he’d caught her, she’d looked away. But she’d definitely been staring. Too bad he didn’t know what she was thinking. Right now, he had so many questions, he was damn near bursting with them. But something told him he needed to be careful with her. For someone who didn’t have much, pride was something she couldn’t afford to lose.

  “You get lonely out here?” he asked, before he’d thought through what he was saying.

  “With this crew?” She shook her head.

  “I’m sure they keep you busy. I was talking friends?” Or someone special? But then he paused and asked, “Do you have a car?” Surely, she did. Surely, she had one thing that was just hers—something she could pack up the kids in and take for a drive, a little getaway?

  A one-shoulder shrug. “Only Frank’s.” Her brows rose. “It’s a clunker.”

  Brynn laughed, making a horrible groaning-cranking sound. “Like that.”

  “That doesn’t sound normal.” He chuckled but was having a hell of a hard time finding the humor in all of this. She was stuck—in every sense of the word. When was the last time she’d had time to herself? Seen someone other than her asshole of an uncle? Had a view that wasn’t downright...depressing? She was strong, he got that. But even the strongest of people needed a break now and then. He knew that firsthand. He had an idea. “Is there a place to eat in town?”

  “There’s three restaurants. A Dairy King. Flat Brush Bar-B-Que Café. And... I never remember the other place but Frank loves it—”

  “Dairy King or the café it is.” He
had no interest in setting foot in any place that man frequented. It was childish but he damn well didn’t care. “You up for it?”

  Skylar’s eyes went round—that’s where Brynn got it from—and her lips parted in surprise. “Umm...”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed Skylar was a beautiful woman. Her shirt was threadbare from washing and her jeans had frayed patches, but she was beautiful. Her eyes, too. So much to see in those golden-brown depths. Intelligence. Caution. The total love she had for her girls...

  “That’s very nice of you but we’d just delay your homecoming.” Those eyes of hers seemed to be searching his face—looking for something.

  “I’ll leave tomorrow. It’s too long a drive to start now.” Whatever plans he’d had were no longer relevant. He had no idea what to do about Skylar’s situation but leaving her here, like this, was wrong. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. And he still hadn’t broached the idea that Jet was supposed to stay here but he knew that wasn’t going to go over well. He’d figure it out. He just needed more time. “You and me and the girls for a fun night on the town.”

  Mya interrupted then, waving her hand before patting Jet on the head. “Who?”

  “Jet,” Brynn repeated, looking for help. “Momma.”

  “Right.” Skylar held out her hand. “J.” She swung her pinkie in a J shape. “E.” Her hand fisted. “T.” She tucked her thumb between her pointer and middle fingers. Then she pointed at the dog and said, “Jet.”

  “Jeh.” Mya nodded.

  Brynn nodded. “Yup. Jet.” She smiled, Mya smiled—and now he was smiling, too.

  Kyle held his hand out. “J?” He copied what Skylar had done.

  Mya watched.

  “E.” He made a fist.

  Mya stood, using her little hands to correct his thumb placement.

  “Thank you.” He winked at Mya, earning him a little nod and a sweet smile in return.

  “Thank you.” Skylar showed him the sign. “Though she does a pretty good job of reading lips.”