by Bonnie Vanak
At the hallway’s end, Dan opened a door. Nick blinked. Once this had been his room. No longer.
The bedroom had been converted to a guest room with a white queen-size bed, a pink ruffled spread, pink walls, white girlish furniture and a white rocking chair with bright pink cushions by the window. Nick gave a rueful shrug.
“Felicity thought you might like to be in your old room.” Dan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Except we did some redecorating, thinking you’d never come home again.”
“No worries,” he said easily. “I’m not staying long and I’ve stayed in worse places. Maybe not as pink, though.”
Dan flashed a brief smile at the joke as Nick dumped his pack on the white carpeted floor.
“Bathroom is through that door.” Dan pointed to a connecting door. “No one else is on this floor, so you don’t have to worry about interruptions.”
“Just my boots,” Nick joked.
Dan jammed a hand through his short hair. “Ah, about the boots, don’t worry about it. Felicity makes the rules mainly for the staff, who come into the house to use the office downstairs. Not family.”
Am I still family? The question hovered on the tip of his mouth, but he only nodded.
“Where’s Jake?” he asked.
“He’s at his girlfriend’s, but will meet us at the funeral home.”
Lucky bastard. Maybe his girlfriend had a spare room for Nick. A room with less frills and less Pepto-Bismol decor.
“I’ll need a suit for the funeral,” Nick told him.
“Already taken care of. You can wear one of Jake’s—you’re about the same size. Felicity hung it in this closet.”
As his cousin made to leave, Nick sat down on the pink chair. He was twenty-nine now, no longer the rebellious teen who looked up to his older relative for advice. “Stay a minute, Dan. Tell me what’s been going on. All I heard was rumors about the ranch having financial trouble.”
Dan stood by the bed. “There’s been a lot that’s happened since you left, Nick. Maybe if you had stuck around, if you had cared enough, things would be different.”
Tension squeezed his guts. Once he and Dan had been close. No longer, for the cold anger flaring in his cousin’s eyes told him everything. “I couldn’t.”
No use getting into the past, how Silas had browbeat him until Nick felt smothered, and how if he hadn’t left, he’d have either turned into a ghost of himself, or he’d have gone mad. The old man had kicked him out when he was only sixteen, telling him to “learn to straighten out and you can return.”
Nick survived six months being homeless, living by his wits, until the bitter cold weather drove him back, humiliated and ashamed, to his father. He remained at home another three years and then joined the navy.
No one knew the real reason he stuck it out. He preferred to keep that reason private.
Still, Dan should know his decision wasn’t capricious. “You remember that day when I was fourteen and I found the puppy by the roadside? How I begged Silas to keep it?”
His cousin nodded. “Always thought it was a bad deal that the dog was so sick you had to put it down. Tough call, but Silas said it was for the best.”
Nick gave his cousin a level look. “The dog was fine. I secretly brought him over to the vet to have him checked over. He didn’t need anything more than a deworming, Dan. Silas wanted me to shoot it because he said I needed to grow a set of real balls, and not get all ‘female’ over a damn stray dog.”
Dan blanched. “Silas would never do that.”
Nick gave a grim smile. “Oh, he would never do that to you. But me, he did crap like that all the time. Guess you’ll never understand. But before you go judging me for leaving here, understand I had my reasons.”
His cousin looked away, but not before Nick caught a flash of guilt on his face. “Silas could be tough, yeah. But if he didn’t take us in after my dad died, we’d have been really bad off, Nick. I guess that’s why I could forgive anything he did.”
“You had your reasons for staying, just as I had mine for leaving.” Nick stood and went to his pack, then unzipped it. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”
Dan started for the door. “Like Felicity said, it’s your home, too. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Make sure to lock your window before you go to sleep.”
Lock his window on the second floor? Nick looked up, but his cousin was gone.
Nick went to the closet and opened the door. A black silk suit hung there, the dry-cleaning plastic still encasing it. He tore off the plastic and then tried on the suit. A little tight around the shoulders, but it would suffice.
He hung it up and then went into the adjoining bathroom to shower. When he emerged, in clean jeans and a gray T-shirt, the two boys stood in the doorway. Nick waved them in. They entered, their big blue eyes wide.
They watched him as he unpacked and rummaged through his clothing.
“Daddy says you’re a hero. You’re a Navy SEAL,” Mason said.
Hero? The thought soured him, even as he appreciated his cousin’s compliment.
“I was a Navy SEAL.” Nick hung a hat on the bed’s post.
“Mommy doesn’t like hats on the bed,” Miles informed him.
Wonder if Mommy likes anything on the bed, he thought, and sighed. The boys stood opposite him, so stiff that they resembled wooden bookends.
He wasn’t good with kids, except his best friend Cooper’s family, and these boys looked too wary, too uncertain of this stranger in their home.
Their home, not his.
Nick dug into his knapsack. He removed his one good white shirt, wondering if Felicity had an iron he could borrow. Judging from the woman’s attitude, she probably kept a dozen.
The gun case was stashed at the bottom. He removed it and stared at the pistol encased within.
He’d have to keep his SIG Sauer locked up and wondered if Silas still kept his shotguns and rifles in the downstairs study. Ah, hell.
Bracing his hands on his knees, he felt a bout of piercing grief at what had been lost between himself and the old man. Silas had taught him how to shoot when Nick was ten. Took him hunting in the mountains, and had pride in his first kill.
The old man showed him how to be an expert marksman. Insisted he take care of his weapons, clean them and make sure they were locked up, away from curious fingers.
It was one of the few areas they had in common and didn’t clash about.
“Is that a gun?” Miles asked.
Nick nodded, replaced his sidearm in the backpack.
“Can we see it?” Mason said, his voice growing excited.
Giving his cousin’s son a long look, Nick shook his head. “Hands off. I never let another man handle my sidearm.”
The boy pouted a little until hearing the word man.
“Dad wants to take me hunting, but Mommy says guns are dangerous,” Mason said.
“They are, if you don’t know how to use them. Maybe your dad can convince your mom to let you go hunting next year, when you’re a little older.”
“Daddy keeps a gun under his pillow,” Miles told him, but clammed up when Mason frowned at him.
Odd. Dan had always been a bit squeamish around guns. Necessary on a ranch, but his cousin let Silas do the shooting. Why would he feel the need for home protection with a gun, especially with vulnerable children living here?
Next he removed a small black velvet box and opened it, studying the gold winking in the lamplight.
“What is that?” Mason asked.
Nick removed the pin and showed them. “That’s my Budweiser, my Navy SEAL pin. Only real Navy SEALs get these.”
The boys examined the pin with avid interest while Nick went to the window. He lifted the curtains with the back of one hand, peering into th
e darkness at the twin carriage lights on the garage. Shelby lived out there. Cute, curvy Shelby, who had turned his world upside down ten years ago with that killer kiss...
“If you’re sleeping here tonight, make sure to lock your window. We all have to make sure the house is locked tight before we go to bed,” Mason told him.
Nick recoiled. He glanced down at the ground two stories below. “Why?”
“So no one breaks in, like they did last month.”
Crime, here at Belle Creek? “What happened?”
“Someone went into Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom.” Mason looked troubled.
Nick squatted down by the solemn little boy. “What happened?”
“Daddy says not to talk about it outside the family,” Miles told him.
Nick smiled. “I’m family. You can tell me.”
Miles seemed to consider. “Someone stole Mommy’s favorite pen.”
“Pin,” Mason amended. “They went into our parents’ bedroom and took Mom’s jewelry. Her favorite pin. It had a silver horse with emerald eyes. It was right after that when Readalot died—”
“Daddy was real upset,” Miles interrupted.
“I’ll tell it, Miles.” Mason looked at Nick. “Readalot was our champion jumper. He won lots of competitions. Shelby went into the stables and Readalot was dead in his stall. He was our champion jumper. Hank, the ranch hand, say the horse was healthy as an ox. Someone killed him.”
He needed to find out what the hell was going on around here. Then he remembered he didn’t live here anymore.
Nick ruffled the boys’ hair. “Don’t worry about it. Do as your mom and dad tell you. I’m sure things will be fine.”
But they stared at him with those big eyes. “Will you stay here? Maybe if we have a real Navy SEAL stay here, the bad things won’t happen.”
Tightness formed in his chest. Bad things happened all the time, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to prevent them. But these were young, innocent kids, and while they didn’t deserve lies, they also didn’t deserve adult worries. “We’ll see,” he said vaguely. “I’ll do everything I can while I’m here, okay?”
The words were more BS than the droppings in the pasture, but both boys looked relieved.
“Now, go downstairs to your mom. I’m sure she’s worried about you being up here with big, bad cousin Nick.” He winked at them and they grinned in pure male camaraderie of doing something they shouldn’t.
When the boys left, Nick fingered his SEAL pin. Hell of a price paid for getting it, but not as much as his brothers in arms, who had paid the ultimate price with their lives. The pin meant everything to him. But he’d left the teams after his hospital discharge, when he knew he couldn’t perform up to par, knew he would never be at the top of his game again.
And now he felt more lost than when he’d stormed away from the ranch and Silas’s iron grip when he was nineteen, never looking back.
No reason for him to stay now. But as he gazed out the window, he saw a car pull into the driveway by the garage. Light from the dual carriage lamps showcased a woman climbing out—a woman with dark hair and a gentle sway to her hips.
Shelby. The mouth-watering, kissable Shelby.
He watched her walk across the drive toward the house. Nick checked his appearance in the mirror, finger-combed his hair and went downstairs as the doorbell rang.
Miss Shelby Stillwater. His blood surged, hot and thick. He thought of that kiss and how it had made every cell inside him alive and aware.
Maybe it was time to stay. At least until he could figure out what the hell was going on around here.
Chapter 3
The funeral had been a quiet, dignified affair. No one shed a tear, except her.
But as she’d stood by the graveside, watching the others throw flowers on the casket, she saw Nick rub his eyes. Maybe he and Silas had been on bad terms, but the man was his father.
Shelby had sidled over to Nick, who was standing alone and looking lost, and clasped his hand. He’d looked startled, and then a little grateful.
Now, as they sat in Silas’s downstairs study in the farmhouse, Nick looked neither. Guarded, perhaps. No...wary. And quite uncomfortable, as was she. The last thing she wanted to do, after the emotion of the funeral and the strain of helping to host the reception at the house afterward, was to listen to the reading of the will. She only wanted to collect Timmy from the downstairs rec room, where he was playing with Mason and Miles, then go to her apartment. Maybe take Timmy riding on his pony later.
Lord knew they needed to return to some form of normalcy.
Normal certainly had not been last night, when she’d gotten Timmy from this house. Nick had been in the hallway, leaning against the staircase, his long, muscled body looking hot as sin as he’d hooked his fingers through the loops of his belt hoops. He looked ready for sex.
It had taken all her willpower to murmur a polite greeting and tear her gaze away from him instead of ogling him like a schoolgirl. Fortunately, Felicity had been in a hurry and practically threw Timmy into Shelby’s arms. She’d made a quick introduction of Timmy, and then fled with her nephew as if a blond devil was on her heels.
Today’s somber occasion reminded her that Nick was only here temporarily. Shelby was certain he’d leave right after this. Perhaps even faster than the last time he’d gone away, leaving only the angry rubber of his tread marks on the front drive.
Silas’s lawyer, Kurt Mohler, had gathered them together in this room. Shelby sat straight in the leather chair, trying to keep her nerves from jumping like water on a hot skillet. She doubted Silas had left her anything in his will, but her main concern was keeping her little apartment above the garage, at least until Heather and Pete returned from Iraq.
On the leather sofa, Dan and Felicity and Dan’s younger brother, Jake, looked attentive.
She and Nick perched on the wing chairs near the sofa, while Kurt, who seemed restless, paced before the fireplace. Finally the lawyer turned.
“Silas made his last wishes very plain and clear. Daniel, I want you to know that as the family lawyer, if you wish to contest his will, you have the right to do so. However, it will be a lengthy court battle, which is something I’m sure you can’t afford.”
Her stomach clenched in tight knots. This wasn’t a good start.
Dan frowned. “Why would we want to do that? Uncle Silas was always good to us.”
Kurt removed a gold pen from his suit pocket and began fiddling with it. “As you know, the ranch is deeply in debt.”
She watched Nick frown, his gaze sharp as he scrutinized the attorney. Judging from his reaction, Nick had no idea how bad things were around here. Having done the books for the ranch, she thought she knew. But Silas also liked to handle the family’s personal bills himself and there was the matter of the ranch mortgage.
He’d never let her know the exact amount, only muttered that he’d take care of it.
“How much in debt?” Nick demanded.
Dan stiffened. “That’s not for public knowledge.”
Without his gaze leaving the attorney’s face, Nick snapped, “I’m not the public.”
“All parties in this room need to know what liabilities Silas faced, as well as the assets he owned,” Kurt assured him. “It’s why I asked all of you here.”
The attorney looked at Nick. “Silas took out an equity loan on the house to pay for repairs, using the ranch as collateral. His estate owes the bank two hundred and fifty thousand dollars on the mortgage. I’m afraid he fell behind in payments.”
Dread curled through her. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars! She’d known it was bad, but not that bad. Silas had been nonchalant when he’d mentioned he owed money. No wonder he always looked so pinched and worried.
“What about the assets?” Felicity a
sked.
The woman had a poker face. If she had shed a single tear, Shelby hadn’t seen it. Felicity hadn’t always been this cold and brittle. Not until all the mysterious incidents started around the ranch, and Silas had mentioned that money was tight.
Secretly Shelby wondered about the odd coincidence of the sabotage happening concurrently with Silas’s announcement. Dan managed the ranch. He knew Silas owed money, and maybe he’d mentioned it to his wife. Felicity had high standards. She’d insisted on the elaborate renovations to the house. Was she also behind the vandalism as well, acts designed to make Silas sell the ranch?
“The assets are the ranch and the house and all the outbuildings, a life insurance policy, a policy to pay for the funeral and all associated costs only, and a very small investment account.” Kurt stooped and looked at them grimly. “There is a very good offer on the table for the ranch, and the house, from Chuck Beaufort. More than enough to pay off the loan, with a nice sum to purchase a new house in a good part of town.”
Dan looked uncertain. Felicity reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand. “What does Mr. Beaufort plan to do with the ranch? He’s a developer, not a farmer.”
Kurt’s gaze was impassive. “He has plans for a theme park, which will bring in plenty of tourists and new business to town. The view of the mountains is splendid from the pasture.”
Clenching her teeth, Shelby fisted her hands in her lap. Chuck Beaufort would take the serene pastures and the wild, overgrown forest, with its tangle of brush, and bulldoze everything. The Belle Creek had been in the family for generations. Maybe she didn’t have any kind of family connection to the place, but it had been the only real home she’d ever had.
How could the lawyer propose they sell? Had he ever ridden over the lush pastures at dawn in spring, fresh dew beading the grass, the leaden sky bursting into gold as the sun peaked over the mountaintops of the Smokies?
Had he ever hung on a fence railing, listening to the wind sweep over the hills, watching the children play in the yard as the horses peacefully cropped the grass? The air was so pure and fresh here, it hurt her heart to think of the ranch turning into a concrete playground for wealthy people.