Delaney dropped her head and gently tugged the hem. “Oh, this?” She looked up at him and smiled tentatively. “Yes. Once she was accepted, her friends Travis and Troy bought her half dozen of these.”
“Travis and Troy?”
For the first time since he’d been here, Delaney’s expression relaxed into a smile. Easy, bright, it made her look healthy and happy and all the more attractive.
“They’re boys she grew up with.”
“Platonic, I assume?”
Delaney laughed and set her gun down by the dish cloth. “Not by their choosing.”
Of course not, he thought. Felicity was as attractive as her mother, but with an entirely different appeal. Delaney had an air of strength about her, a determined set to her jaw, dark brows and spirited brown eyes that posed a sexy contrast to her long blonde hair, the color of pale wheat silk. Her body was petite, mostly covered from sight at the moment, yet she moved with a swagger that shouted confidence. Until tonight. He smiled inwardly as she handed him a mason jar with water. With a nod of thanks, he sipped, taking her in from over the rim. It was a swagger her jeans embodied well. And if there was one thing Nick liked in a woman, it was confidence.
Felicity was a different caliber entirely. Strawberry blonde, she was fair-skinned and he’d bet fair-hearted as well. From the two brief conversations he’d had with her, he could tell she was smart but had a gentle way about her. Unlike her mother who was accustomed to the hard work of horses and stables, Felicity was the product of indoor practice and study. She was refined, content to be part of the orchestra rather than take center stage.
Unlike her mother. Something told him Delaney could strut across a stage like nobody’s business, the audience demanding encore after encore. An audience of mostly men, that is. Nick cooled his thoughts with a long, deep swallow of water and emptied the glass. “Thanks.” He handed it back, purposely retaining hold as her fingers closed around his. “I needed that,” he said, enjoying the slight bump to her gaze.
But he was best parked outside, where his mind had no distractions. Nick couldn’t trust himself not to “touch” if he stayed inside with Delaney any longer. “If you need anything,” he said, slowly arching a single brow, “I’ll be right outside that door.”
Delaney slanted a glance toward the door and said, “I feel silly having you sit outside all night.”
“Would you rather I sit indoors? That sofa looks mighty comfy.”
“Nice try.” With her hands wrapped around his glass on the counter, a subtle smile drifted over her face.
And if Nick wasn’t mistaken, he’d venture to bet she was harboring a hint of desire herself. Perfect. “I’ll always try,” he returned, indulging in the moment. As she walked him to the door, he added, “Try and get some sleep, will you?”
“Are you my father, now?”
“Oh no, far from it—of that, you can be sure.”
Nick went outside and Delaney locked the door behind him. Lingering, she turned, hands encircling the cold metal knob. It was an odd feeling, knowing he was just outside her door. On the one hand, it felt nice, knowing he was there, should the stranger come back. She’d been surprised the man with the gun had the nerve to track her down. But he couldn’t have followed her. Nick had run him off back on the trail. She turned, and gazed through the carved lines of the glass door. The only way the man could have known where to find her, was through Clem. He must have told Clem about her, and Clem had ordered him to come after the pictures.
But she couldn’t believe Clem would really send an armed man after her. If she didn’t cooperate—which she wouldn’t—he might actually shoot her. Nervous energy pushed her from the door, propelling her to the kitchen. Did Clem really have it in him? He’d always been a low-life in her book, engaging in petty crime through the years, disorderly conduct and the like, but nothing ever serious. To her knowledge, he had never landed himself in jail.
Perhaps circumstances dictated desperate measures. If Clem knew she was on to his gold theft, he might indeed be capable of doing anything to cover his crime. Delaney rinsed and dried Nick’s glass, her thoughts wandering to the front porch. Suddenly, she was glad he was here. She didn’t trust anyone or anything at the moment. Anything except his ability to protect her.
Setting the glass on the dish rack to dry, Delaney went into her bedroom. Retrieving the camera from under her pillow, she sat on the edge of her bed and scrolled through the images again. There were three she decided were worthy for Ernie’s viewing. Three she could use to prove there were men on the property who shouldn’t be. She dropped camera to her lap. But she still had to prove their connection to Clem. Somehow, she had to get photos of him with his men. She had to prove her case beyond reasonable doubt. Ernie would defend Clem unless she could show him for the guilty scalawag he was. But how?
It was only a fluke she’d caught sight of them together in the first place. If only she could share her discovery with Nick. Maybe he’d be able to think of a way to draw the connection. He’d proven himself pretty handy so far. She glanced toward her front porch. The thought of him sitting outside her door evoked images of him staring down that man on the trail today, chasing him away from her cabin tonight. Nick was a brave one. A strong one. When the noise hit and the lights went out, she had felt totally safe in his presence. There wasn’t the slightest doubt that Prince Harris would take care of whoever was outside.
Prince Harris. She smiled at her new nickname for the man. Had a nice ring to it. Delaney’s thoughts detoured back to the porch. What was he doing right now? She glanced at the small clock on her dresser. It was eleven o’clock. Did he really intend to stay all night? Would he sleep out there?
Now what kind of body guard would that make me if I slept on the job.
The recollection threaded warm sensations of pleasure through her thoughts. Maybe he could use some coffee. It would get colder as the night went on. Abruptly, she rose. Grabbing a light jacket from her closet, she slipped it on and headed outside.
Turning the handle, she eased her head around the door jamb. Nick was sitting in the far chair, still as night. His eyes sought hers through the dim light. Only the rhythmic sawing of crickets and katydids came between them.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said.
“Why—do you think he’s come back? Did you hear something?” Nerves drummed in her midsection as she glanced out into the black of night.
“No.”
She breathed easy.
“That’s not what I’m referring to.”
“Oh.” Her heart tripped. There was no mistaking the intent of his words. Spoken low, but spoken clearly, she understood what he was insinuating. She ventured out anyway. Well, he was a man, wasn’t he? Men forever made innuendos, were always on the prowl for a willing partner. It didn’t mean anything if a woman didn’t let it.
Besides, she wasn’t out here to flirt with him. She was out here to help him. “Actually, I wondered if maybe you could use a cup of coffee.”
“No thanks.”
“But how will you stay awake?”
“It’s not a problem.”
Idling, she said, “That chair can’t be comfortable.” At six four, Nick dwarfed the rocker, the seat barely wide enough to accommodate him.
“It’ll do.”
“You know,” she said, padding her socked feet closer to him. “I appreciate you doing this...” Delaney slid her gaze around the porch. “Standing watch and all.” She felt a tiny rise of embarrassment, magnified by the slow grin pulling at his mouth. “You must be tired, and with the front door locked, I should be fine.”
“It’s no trouble, Delaney, though your repeated attempts to get rid of me are duly noted.”
“What?” She evaded his quiet, knowing smile and objected, “I’m not trying to get rid of you. All I’m saying—”
Nick raised a swift finger to his lips.
Did he hear something? Delaney took two steps closer to him, stopping behind the r
ocker next to his. “What?” she whispered. “Is someone out there?”
He shook his head. “Just didn’t want you to ruin the moment.”
Indignation flared hot in her breast, fueled by his mocking grin. “If you insist on standing out here,” Nick said, “why not have a seat? Less visible that way.”
Delaney didn’t know whether to kick his chair or sit, as he suggested.
Nick chuckled softly. “C’mon, I won’t bite.”
Wasn’t he the one who said it wasn’t a good idea for her to be out here? But sit she did, pulling the jacket more tightly around her shoulders. Not like she could sleep, knowing he was out on her porch, that someone might be lurking out in the dark. Delaney glanced to her side. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Perfect temperature. Reminds me of the mountains of my youth.”
“You grew up around mountains? Where?” she asked, suddenly intrigued.
He turned to her, his gaze roaming her seated figure. “Montana.”
“Montana?” Why did that surprise her? Because she pegged him for a city boy? Delaney looked down at the planked floor. Of course, he did look as if he belonged in the mountains. She recalled that first day with him on the trail, when he interrupted her as she spied the men in the woods. It had struck her then how at home he seemed in the wooded terrain. Nick Harris had rugged good looks. Skin lined from years in the sun, his build strong and capable, he could easily pass for a rancher or a lumberjack. His attire contributed to the aura. Jeans and boots seemed to be the staple of his attire.
But mountain men didn’t drive sports sedans. They drove trucks.
“Ever been?” he asked.
Delaney turned back to him. “Been where?”
“Montana,” he chided gently.
“Oh.” She shook her head. “No.” Delaney hadn’t been anywhere but Tennessee. In fact—she lifted her head and gazed out into the dark—she’d never been more than a hundred miles from here.
“It’s a beautiful state. My parents still live there. In a small town outside Whitefish.”
“Whitefish?”
“Ever heard of it?”
She shook her head, ignorance swelling in her heart, the late night hour crowding in.
Nick smiled. “Not surprised. It’s pretty remote. Unless you’re familiar with Glacier National Park, you’ve probably never heard of it.”
Delaney wasn’t. Couldn’t pinpoint it on a map, couldn’t find it without searching for it by name, because home was all she needed.
When she didn’t reply, Nick remained quiet. Pulsating sounds from the crickets and frogs filled the porch, cold crept under the sleeves of her jacket. Neither said a word. Delaney wondered what Nick’s life was like in Montana. Were those mountains similar to Tennessee? She’d heard they were bigger, grander, but mountain living was mountain living. Being surrounded by trees and hills couldn’t be all that much different, could it?
Delaney tucked her feet beneath her, the position hoarding warmth as she sat motionless. Odd that she didn’t feel uncomfortable in his presence. Odd she didn’t feel the need to talk, to make conversation. There was something about Nick that felt easy, uncomplicated. It appealed to her.
“This is a beautiful property, Delaney.” She tensed. The last thing she wanted to do was rehash his designs on her land. “You and Felicity, this small town... It reminds me of where I grew up.”
Her ears sharpened. She wanted to hear more about Montana, how similar it was, how different, but she didn’t want him to think she was interested. He might sense it as weakness on her part and try again to convince her to sell.
“The terrain is different, but the feel of the land, the people, it’s all the same. Guess clean living and good people don’t look all that different, no matter where you are.”
Delaney tuned in.
“You’re lucky to stay connected. Family and tradition is something you don’t miss until you’re thousands of miles away.”
“Maybe you can understand why I’m fighting so hard to keep Ladd Springs, then.”
He nodded. “I do. It’s why my offer specifically included a section of land to remain in your name. Yours and Felicity’s,” he corrected.
“A section.” Delaney looked away. “As though I’d be happy with part and not all.”
“Sometimes life changes what we want into what we need.”
She didn’t need reminding she was in a bind—a bind that might cease—should she prove Clem’s involvement with those men.
“I’m not here to take you away from your home, Delaney. On the contrary. I want to ensure this stays your home.”
Latching her attention onto the outdoor light, the single floodlight hanging from the opposite end of the porch, she replied quietly, “It already is.”
This cabin was her home. It was her mother’s home. She wasn’t sharing it with anyone. No one but Felicity.
“I’m sorry,” Nick said. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. After all,” he added, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You only came out to offer me coffee.”
Chapter Fourteen
Delaney awoke early the next morning and dragged herself into a hot shower. She hadn’t slept worth a hoot all night. How could she? Between visions of a stranger swirling around her cabin and thoughts of the formidable Nick Harris outside her door, she was lucky to get a wink in edgewise!
She was curious about his early life in the mountains, an existence that mirrored her own. Until he made it sound like she was after more, and she’d promptly dismissed herself from his presence. Truth was—she didn’t trust herself. She was intrigued by his life but didn’t want him to take advantage of her interest. Didn’t want him to trip her up. There was no way this land would fall into his hands. She merely liked the idea that there was a positive side to the man.
The man. Knowing Nick was outside her door was far more pleasurable than she had believed possible. Finishing her shower in record time, she dressed, combed her wet hair, firmed her resolve and went to the front door. Unlocking the knob, she hoped he liked grits. It was about all she had at the moment.
“Rise and shine,” she said and stuck her head outside. She glanced in both directions and her heart fell. Did he not stay for the duration like he said he would?
Disappointment seeped in as she slowly closed the door. Maybe the light of sunrise woke him. If he did stay, she couldn’t imagine he stayed awake the entire time. He must have fallen asleep at some point. Bypassing her kitchen, Delaney decided against breakfast. She had too many things to do and not enough time to do them. Packing the camera, her wallet and cell in the backpack, she slung it over her shoulder and headed for the stables, wondering if she’d see Nick again today.
But by four o’clock there had been no sight of him. Not on her way to the stables, not at the house, no sign of his car on the road as she drove into town. Delaney parked her truck down the street from Fran’s Diner. It was the only space available, which was unusual for a Sunday. Most folks around here were at home this time of day.
But not Fran. Her diner was seven days a week, breakfast, lunch and dinner. On more than one occasion she’d been known to quip how the Lord understood a woman who needed to work. His flock needed to eat and she was their servant. It was a sentiment that appealed to Delaney. A woman needed to do what a woman needed to do. From taking care of her family to taking care of business.
Delaney swept inside the front door, the clang of bells loudly announcing her arrival. She had yet to find out what had transpired between Nick and Felicity the other day but Fran would know. Delaney scanned the bar counter, the red stools, the slew of vacant tables. The place was empty. But this wasn’t her busy time. It was the lull between the after church crowd and the dinner crowd, the latter not set to arrive for another hour or so. A few booths were occupied, but no one she knew. Which was surprising. Nine times out of ten, Delaney knew someone dining at Fran’s.
“Hey sugar!”
At the familiar drawl,
Delaney spotted Fran’s red hair through the window to the kitchen, could even make out the blue eye shadow. The elder woman waved, then pushed out through double doors. Dressed in starched white uniform, red apron tied at her waist, Fran ran a zillion miles an hour, but she never passed up an invitation to visit. Give her a wink and a wave and she was all yours—so long as her patrons weren’t waiting for food.
Delaney waited counterside. “Hi, Fran.”
The older woman came over directly and met her with a warm embrace, a veil of Shalimar perfume enveloping them. Pulling away, she noticed the scratches on Delaney’s arms. “Good Lord! What happened to you?”
“Lost a fight with a tree.”
Fran’s brown eyes became saucers. “Did you fall out?”
Delaney smiled. “Something like that.”
“Bless your heart, child, but you need to leave this minute and see a doctor about this!”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? It looks like a bear tried snackin’ on you for lunch!”
Delaney hadn’t come here to talk about her injuries. She’d come here to talk about Nick. “It’s nothing, really. Listen, I wanted to ask you—did you see Felicity here the other day?”
Fran’s brow gathered in question. “Now, you know I was just about to ask about that pretty daughter of yours. Does she need a peach pie?” She cast a hand toward the front display case, golden pastry tops lining three levels of trays. “I have three on the shelves right now.”
Grateful they had moved into easier territory, Delaney gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Between you and Ashley, the girl could eat her weight in pie!”
Fran frowned. “Now you know Ashley doesn’t know her way around a peach orchard, let alone a peach pie.”
Delaney laughed. “How about you tell her that, not me?
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