Brotherhood Protectors: Texas Ranger Rescue (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Cynthia D'Alba

  “This is Fiona.”

  “Oh, hi, Ms. Samuels. Like I said, this is Chase Adams, your new producer and audio engineer. I thought, if you’re available, I’d introduce myself.”

  Fiona hesitated. She wasn’t good with new people, and she’d counted on Lori being here as a buffer.

  His voice sounded like that of the host of the “TV Guy” podcasts, but his name wasn’t Chase. What was it? Buzzard? No, that wasn’t it. Brain? No. Brian? No. Something that started with a B.

  “Ms. Samuels?” Chase said, jarring her from her thoughts.

  “Hold on. I’m coming. Give me a minute.”

  The kitchen and living rooms were one big combined area that opened to the second floor. When someone entered her foyer, if the person walked forward, they’d pass between a couple of columns and into the living room. Turn right, and there was the kitchen. Look up, and they’d see the small living area on the second floor near her office where she spent much of her time. Between where she stood in the kitchen and the front door, only the columns filled the space.

  She petted Huck, told him to stay and walk swiftly and confidently toward the door. She’d walked this path so many times that, as the old saying goes, she could walk it with her eyes shut. Still, she knew exactly where she was by the way her feet sounded as they clicked on the old planks.

  As she neared the door, her shins collided with something wooden that shouldn’t be there. The object skittered backwards. Fiona cried out and fell forward, her arms flailing for something to brace herself. There was nothing. She landed with a loud thud on the hardwood floor.

  Chapter Two

  After ringing the bell, Chase paced a little on the front porch. She’d told him to hold on. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting Fiona Samuels. What if she was a complete bitch and he hated her? His favorite fantasy would be kaput.

  He’d been lying his ass off when he’d told Hank he didn’t have a crush on the woman. Of course he did…with her voice. For all he knew, she could be three feet tall or seven feet tall. She could be a brunette, blonde or bald. Internet information on her was surprisingly sketchy.

  Besides, none of that mattered. He was here for a job, and that was it.

  The sound of wood crashing on wood echoed, and then he heard her cry out. He tried the door handle, but the door was securely locked. Rattling it in the frame did nothing. After a quick glance around, he pulled a lock pick from his pocket and was inside in under thirty seconds.

  A petite woman lay sprawled at his feet, her legs entangled with a two-step ladder. A German Shepard stood near her head and growled his displeasure at Chase’s arrival.

  “It’s okay, Huck,” she said. “Okay.”

  “Are you hurt?” Chase knelt on the floor. “Anything broken?” She shifted away when he touched her leg. “Hold on,” he said. “I just need to get you untangled from this ladder.”

  He easily threaded her left foot and leg through the ladder’s opening. After snapping the ladder’s legs shut, he braced it against the wall.

  Until now, all he’d seen of Fiona Samuels had been the curve of her hips and a tight, heart-shaped ass. Those were definitely a sight to behold. But then Fiona pushed herself up until she was sitting, her legs extended. With one hand, she scraped back her long red hair off her face and his heart stopped.

  She was stunning.

  Light freckles dotted her cheeks on either side of a cute, pert nose. Her lips were full and lush, and he imagined what it would be like to kiss them. But he couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark-tinted sunglasses, which she slid into place on her nose.

  “Thank you,” she said in that oh-so-familiar husky tone. “I forgot about that stupid ladder. What did you do with it?

  His brow furrowed. “I put it over there,” He pointed to where it was propped against the wall, but either she didn’t understand or hadn’t heard him, because she didn’t as much as glance in that direction.

  “You know,” he began, “if you didn’t wear such dark glasses in such a dark house, you probably would’ve seen the ladder before you tripped.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you up.”

  Her head didn’t move to look up at him, which seemed odd.

  She huffed out a breath. “I’m blind, you ass.”

  He let his had fall to his side. Then as she struggled to her feet, he reached out to take her arm. She snapped it away.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, relieved she couldn’t see his face, both for the vicious scars he wore and for the embarrassment he was sure blazed across his cheeks.

  “Don’t be,” she said. “I’m used to it.”

  “Damn,” he whispered under his breath.

  “One thing about having low vision is that my hearing is excellent.” For the first time, she turned toward him. “Please don’t cuss in my home.”

  He gulped. “Sorry.”

  “Come on in to my living room and let’s talk.” She turned, took a couple of steps, and stopped. “There shouldn’t be anything between me and the sofa, unless someone forgot to put something away.”

  “There’s nothing.”

  She confidently strode to the couch in the living room and sat. If she hadn’t told him she was blind, he would never have known from her actions. He followed and sat on the sofa. Huck trailed behind, finding his place on the floor next to Fiona’s feet.

  “You have a nice voice,” she said. “Ever think of doing audiobooks?”

  He laughed. “Never.”

  “You sounds so familiar. Have we met before?”

  “I’m sure we haven’t.”

  “So very odd. I’m usually quite good with voices. It’ll come to me. Now, tell me about yourself. How many audio projects have you done?”

  “Is this a job interview?” he asked in a joking tone. He hated to lie, but to tell her this was his first one didn’t seem like a good idea either. Of course, he’d done thousands of podcasts, so his experience with recording and editing ran deep, but he’d never worked with audiobooks specifically.

  She chuckled. “No. You must be good, or Sadie would never have recommended you. I have to admit I’m a little nervous. I’ve had the same producer on the last five or so books, so working with someone new feels strange.”

  “I understand. I assume you have a particular way you work.”

  They spent the next half-hour talking about reading and books. Their tastes ran surprisingly in the same vein, but she was better read than he, and that said something since he always had a book in his hand, or rather on his digital reader. She tested out a few of the voices she planned to use during the recording and got his opinions on which ones sounded better. And finally, she explained her expectations for his work.

  His talk with her prior audio producer had him comfortable with the job. In fact, this was seriously an easy job and he wasn’t sure why Sadie had insisted he do it. There were hundreds of people who could produce this book. But knowing Sadie, this was her way of getting him out of his apartment and back into the world.

  Still, it would be a fairly easy job and he would be able to continue his own work from here.

  “Would you like to see where you’ll be working?”

  “Sure.” He looked around. “Down here?”

  “Third floor.”

  Glancing upward, he pictured trying to navigate all those stairs with his eyes shut. He’d probably break his neck.

  “Let’s go,” he said, rising and turning toward the stairs. To his surprise, she turned in the opposite direction and walk toward a door at the end of the kitchen. He felt sorry for her. Obviously the fall had shaken her more than he’d realized and she was turned around in her own house.

  “I hate to say anything, he said, “but the stairs are this way.”

  She paused, and he thought he heard her sigh. “I know my own house. I’m not turned around.” She gestured toward the door. “Elevator.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  She pushed a button on the w
all, then opened a wooden door. Beyond it was a small box that about three people could stand inside. Today, it held two people and a large dog.

  “How do you know when the elevator car is there?” he asked.

  “Easy. The door won’t open if the car isn’t there. So, if you’re on the third floor, you can’t open the door and step into emptiness.”

  “Hmm. So there’s no way to open the door without the car there? You’re sure?”

  She pushed the button to start the car moving up. “I’m sure. Why? You scared of falling down the elevator shaft? A dramatic end to your life, like on those silly television shows?”

  “No,” he answered with a snort. “Of course not. I think having an elevator in your house is cool.”

  She smiled, and his heart swelled. He’d bet anything that she had no idea how beautiful she was. He couldn’t help but notice. He was scheduled to work with her for the next month to six weeks. How he was going to keep his lips off hers would be the challenge.

  The next hour was spent with him exploring the top floor. He had to admit, she’d spared no expense in getting it right. It was obvious the lounge had been planned to make the producer’s life comfortable. The views were even better than those in his hotel room, and that was saying something. Evening had broken while they’d been talking, and stars were beginning to pop in the dark sky. He couldn’t help thinking how awful it would be to not be able to experience it.

  In the small kitchen built into the lounge, she pulled out a couple of bottles of water.

  “Have a seat.” She gestured with her bottle, not exactly pointing to the seating area. “Any questions?” Once seated, she removed her glasses and set them on a side table, revealing soft green eyes.

  At first, he got angry at her blindness. How could any Higher Being take away this beautiful woman’s vision? It was wrong on so many levels.

  The only positive he could think of was for himself. He could spend hours staring at her and she’d never know, and he couldn’t seem to take his gaze off her. This might be a long month.

  Hmm, he wondered if he could stretch it to eight weeks or even Thanksgiving.

  “Hello?” Fiona said. “Did I lose you?”

  Chase chuckled. “No ma’am. Just thinking about the work,” he lied. “No questions. You have an impressive set up.”

  “Thanks. Harold—my old producer—always bragged on everything.” She opened her arms. “Plus, in the end, all this makes me sound fabulous.”

  “Nope. It’s not this fancy setup that makes you sound so great. That would be all you.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, and her mouth formed an O in surprise. “You’ve listened to me.”

  Embarrassed to admit his fanboy state, he said, “I do my homework.”

  That answer seemed to please her. “Do me a favor.”

  “Sure.”

  “Say, ‘This is the TV guy’.”

  His gut tugged. “This is the TV guy.”

  “I knew it.” She pounded her hand on the arm of the couch. “You’re Blake Blakely, aren’t you?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You’ve listened to my podcasts?”

  “I love them. Never missed a one.”

  Again, he felt a blush climbing up his neck and was thankful she couldn’t see it. “Well, between you and my mother, that accounts for my audience.”

  She laughed. “Doubt it. You’re good. I love the way you describe the scenes from Battle for the Throne. I tried listening to the show, but there were so many sword battles that all I heard were clangs and grunts. But you make that show come alive for me. I can see all the action in my head.”

  “Aww, thank you.”

  “Did I embarrass you?”

  “Maybe a little, but I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s actually listen to my podcast.”

  “Why do you do them if you don’t want people to listen?”

  “For my mom. That’s where the name comes from. Her maiden name was Blake, so Blake Blakely was kind of an inside joke. When I was in Afghanistan, I used to do A Day in the Life Of podcasts for her and any family back home who wanted to keep up with me. Plus, the podcast let her know I was alive and healthy. They were boring as heck, but she enjoyed them.”

  He thought back to the day an IED tried to kill him. There’d been no podcast that day, or any day for the next six months. His family had known immediately something had gone very wrong. So while he’d thought the podcasts were a great way to keep his mother—and others—in the loop, in the end, his sudden disappearance off the air had freaked them all out. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d be in a ton of danger since his job was primarily at headquarters, but he’d been wrong.

  “They weren’t boring.”

  “What? You heard those?”

  She shrugged. “It’s what I do to relax. Sighted people watch television. I listen to podcasts.”

  “I’m a little stunned.”

  “Don’t be. Now, if you don’t have any questions…” She stood.

  He followed, coming to his feet. “What time do you want to start?”

  “Be here at nine.”

  “Will do.”

  “And, thanks for the rescue from the ladder monster this afternoon.”

  He chuckled. “Good thing you left the door unlocked.”

  “Unlike me, but yeah. Good thing.”

  ***

  After Chase left, Fiona went back to the kitchen to finish preparing something for dinner. She thought maybe she liked her new producer. Heck, she’d been in love with his voice since the first time she’d heard it.

  She’d always wondered if the guy doing the soldier podcasts was the same guy doing the TV Guy podcast. But there was a slight difference in the timbre of the voice on both podcasts and she’d decided it was different men. In person, she could hear the slight change in his voice. He still had a fabulous tone, but now it was a tad deeper.

  Did his face match the deep, masculine rumble of his voice? If so, he must be irresistible to women. She’d certainly found herself drawn to him with every word. She could listen to him talk for hours. At one point, she’d had the inane urge to lay her head on his chest while he spoke just to soak up those sexy vibrations. Of course, that impulse had been followed by the one to trace his face with her fingers.

  She sighed. No way would a man like him be attracted to someone like her. She remembered what she looked like. Sure, she’d been twelve the last time she’d looked in a mirror, but age didn’t change the basics. Horrible red hair with a galaxy of freckles. Her eyes had been boring green instead of a pretty blue like her friend Becky had had. No boobs, although that had changed a little. She’d had no figure at all back then, and that seemed to remain accurate.

  No, she was sure sexy Chase Adams had to beat women off with a stick. Maybe she could screw up a lot and keep him around a little longer, like push the recording all the way to Thanksgiving.

  She put him out of her mind and pushed her glasses to the top of her head. The sun was completely gone and night had fallen. Her day vision was mostly wavy shadows with a thick, misty gray fog, but at night, she could see a little more. Not much, by any means, and certainly not enough that would alter her vision from 20/500, but enough she could at least make out her refrigerator.

  She leaned over to rub the ache in her shin, and Chase Adams once again filled her head. That stupid ladder accident. It’d been unlike her to have forgotten that the workman had left it there to keep Huck off the refinished wood. Nothing like a horrible first meet. Instead of viewing her as a self-sufficient woman, albeit a blind one, she was sure he felt pity for her.

  And she hated pity.

  She’d have to be more careful in the future and pay attention.

  And maybe remember to check the locks on her doors. Good thing it had been unlocked this evening.

  The next morning, Fiona was buttering her toast as Lori arrived at her usual eight-thirty.

  “Good morning,” she chirped as she entered the kitchen from the
rear door. “How’s your incision this morning? What are you eating? Is that the butter? Hold on. I have fresh strawberry jelly.”

  Fiona felt the tub of butter being jerked from under her knife and the plop of a glass jar on her granite counter echoed in the large room.

  “Bobby and I made jelly last night. It’s delicious.

  “Great,” Fiona said. “Another sugar temptation.”

  Lori laughed. “Sorry about that. So tell me about last night.”

  “Last night?”

  “Didn’t you meet your new producer last night?”

  Fiona startled. “I did. How did you know?”

  “You posted it on Facebook.”

  Fiona groaned. “Right.”

  “But you failed to give any relevant details, so spill!”

  “I’ll trade you a cup of coffee for the info.” Fiona handed her assistant an empty coffee mug.

  “Sounds like a fair trade.”

  Fiona took a seat at the table. The hiss and sizzle of the pod coffee maker filled the room, followed by the aroma of fresh coffee. The event repeated as Lori made a second cup.

  “Now,” Lori said, pushing a hot mug into Fiona’s hands. “Tell me all.”

  “Mostly we talked about the job, what my plans were for the book, how Harold and I had made it work on my previous books, and so forth. Then we went up to the office and he played around with all the computers and recording system for a while.”

  “Was he cute? Argh. Sorry. I can’t believe I asked that.”

  Fiona laughed. “I don’t know about his face, but his voice is dreamy and deep. When we were in the elevator, our bodies got pressed together, so I know he’s a little on the thin side. But he smelled wonderful. That reminds me. Have you smelled smoke in the house?”

  “Smoke? Like a fire?”

  Fiona tapped her chin. “No. More like pipe smoke.”

  “Not since Harold left. Why?”

  Harold had been a pipe smoker, and even though he never lit up while he was in the house or studio, he sometimes would carry the scent on his clothing.