Navy SEAL Protector

by Bonnie Vanak

  He squatted and flipped down a rubber-coated piece of metal. “These are for whoever rides with me. Footpads so you can rest your feet. Nicer than pegs.”

  Opening a saddlebag, he gestured for her purse. As he stored it in the saddlebag, she rested a hand on the leather seat, a little stab of emotion arrowing through her as she thought of women behind him, their hands clinging to him. “Have you ridden with many women?”

  He gave her a burning look. “Yes, in the past,” he replied evenly. “But none compared to you, Shel.”

  A warm tingling filled her. She sensed a deeper meaning behind his words, but didn’t question it. Nick held out his hand. “C’mon, Shel. It’s late and you must be dead tired.”

  Taking a step toward him was a step out in trust. She took a deep breath. What did she have to lose? She’d never taken risks before. It was about time to see what the rest of the world had to offer.

  Shelby took his hand, felt excitement as a smile of pleasure touched his mouth. He flipped down the footpads and helped her onto the bike, but the skirt was way too short. Nick hesitated.

  “Don’t happen to have jeans or pants handy?” he asked.

  Shelby frowned. “I’ll manage.”

  Managing seemed to be her skill set lately. Never failing to adapt, make it work. For a wild moment, she wondered when a time would come when she didn’t have to manage, and things would work for her instead of her working for them.

  The front door of the restaurant banged open and Natalie stormed outside. Shelby’s stomach tightened. Now what?

  “Shelby, where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “You can’t leave yet.” Natalie put her hands on her hips. “Everyone else clocked out and you were supposed to scrub the ladies’ room floor. And the men’s.”

  Temper rising like molten lava, Shelby narrowed her eyes as she walked closer to the restaurant owner. “Since when? That was always the assistant manager’s job.”

  A smug smile touched Natalie’s face. “Since tonight. I’ve rearranged everything. The last server to leave is responsible for cleaning the bathrooms.”

  It would always be like this. Natalie making the rules, changing them to suit her, and humiliating Shelby. Working eight hours for a few dollars in tips because Natalie made certain to give her the tables she knew were bad tippers. Natalie, who had tormented her in high school and continued to make her life miserable.

  Would she ever be free of this woman’s oppression?

  “Shel, you want a ride home or what?”

  Nick stood by the bike, waiting. His expression shuttered, but was unjudging. Fact was, Nick was the only one who never judged her. Never once thought of her as lower class because of her origins and her parents. Even Silas, who had given her many wonderful opportunities, had done so because he felt pity for her.

  Nick didn’t.

  “I need this job,” she muttered, as Natalie waited by the door.

  Did she walk away and risk losing her sole source of income? Who would pay the bills?

  He left the bike and came to her side.

  “There are other jobs.” Nick picked up her hand. “Jobs that were meant for your talent and brains, Shel. You’re smart, educated and you’re great with numbers. You deserve more than this.”

  It was the calmness in his touch, the absolute gentleness and his faith in her abilities that broke her. Shelby snapped like a tightly stretched rubber band. Nick was correct. She did deserve more.

  “Go clean the bathroom yourself, you spoiled brat,” she told Natalie. “It would be good for you to get on your knees for a change.”

  Natalie gasped. “You, you’re fired! I want your uniform back by tomorrow morning. I’ll mail your paycheck.”

  A knot of fury uncoiled inside her. The woman had it all planned. She had meant for Shelby to make one last mistake so she could wield her power. No more.

  Shelby unzipped her skirt, shimmied it past her hips and then threw it at Natalie. “Here. You love it so much, you have it now. Hell, you can wear it. And you can’t fire me, because I quit.”

  Off went the cowboy hat, sailing in the air at Natalie. Clad only in her worn fleece jacket, white collared shirt, white boots and panties, she glared at Natalie.

  The woman stared at her, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

  Nick laughed and returned to the bike. He opened a saddlebag, removed a pair of gray sweatpants. “Here. Put these on. They’re big, but will keep your legs covered. Mite cold out.”

  Then he gave a long, appreciative look at her lower half. “Black lace. My favorite.”

  Whistling, he closed the saddlebag. Shelby tugged on the pants, feeling warmth hit her legs.

  Nick flicked a hand at the goggle-eyed Natalie. “’Bye, Natalie.”

  The woman stormed inside, taking Shelby’s skirt and hat. Maybe it was a bad idea to quit when she needed the money, but right now she wouldn’t think about that. For once, she’d live in the moment.

  Shivering, Shelby shook her head. “Oh, wow, I don’t envy her. Have you ever seen the men’s room after a football game?”

  Laughing again, he handed her the helmet. Nick touched her cheek again.

  “You’re a hell of a woman, Shelby Stillwater. I’m proud of you.”

  The brief kiss he dropped on her cheek warmed her skin from the inside out.

  Shivering from his touch, she put on the helmet he gave her, the hard shell feeling as if she’d stuck her head into a small cave. He chuckled and adjusted it so it didn’t swim over her smaller head, then flipped down the face shield.

  Proud of her? She’d quit her job and called the most powerful woman in town a spoiled brat.

  Nick settled in front of her, his broad back a solid wall of muscle covered in black leather. “Put your arms around me and just hold on. You can lean against the backrest if you like.”

  Shelby’s heart raced. Slowly she slid her arms around his lean waist and leaned into him. The smell of leather and his delicious, spicy scent flooded her senses. Pleasure filled her, as she snuggled closer, opening her thighs to couch his. He tensed, muttered something and turned the key. The bike roared to life as she settled her feet on the footpads.

  Nick turned. He cupped her chin with one gloved hand.

  “It’s going to be okay. Trust me.”

  Trust him. Did she have a choice? Not just for the ride home, either. Nick turned and she slid her arms around his lean waist, her muscles tensing. Shelby squeezed her eyes shut as they rode out of the parking lot. When they reached the main road, she opened her eyes. The wide leather seat beneath her was comfortable, as promised. Wind gushed past her in a rush. Fresh air and the dank smell of the light rain that had splattered over the pavement filled her nostrils. The feeling was exhilarating and liberating.

  Tomorrow, she’d think about the consequences of what she’d done. For tonight, she wanted to live for the moment, close her eyes and feel.

  Shelby listened to the gush of wind racing past, smelled the delicious scent of Nick, his cologne and leather. She tried to relax and imagined they were without boundaries or restrictions.

  His broad back felt like a sold, sheltering wall. Slowly, she released her fears as if they were dandelions floating in the wind. A new awareness replaced the fear. I’m free. It feels like flying, she marveled.

  As he stopped at a red light, she shouted into his ear, “It feels like flying!”

  Nick turned. “That’s why I love bikes. Nothing else will do. I relish my freedom, to be able to go anywhere I wish. Want to go faster?”

  “Yes!”

  “Hold tight.”

  As the light changed, she gripped him harder, leaning against him. Wind whipped past them. Riding like this, nothing but open space before them, she understood why Nick chose this
way to travel. The man was a maverick who enjoyed the open road.

  As he pulled into the long drive of the Belle Creek, her heart sank. Nick loved his freedom. More than anything else. The Harley was a good reminder of that. He wouldn’t stay here. Soon enough, he’d be roaring off toward the open road once more.

  Nick drove to the front of the garage, put down the kickstand and shut off the engine. She removed the helmet, handed it to him. Then she slid off the bike, his sweatpants slithering down her ankles. Shelby tugged them up, holding them with one hand. The earlier bravado and the thrill of the ride had fled, leaving her cold and empty inside.

  Nick put both helmets on the handles, retrieved her purse and followed her up the steps as she unlocked the door.

  As he locked it behind them, she fisted a hand in the waistband of the sweatpants. “Thanks for the ride home. I guess you don’t have to worry about picking me up tomorrow night, or the next because I’m now unemployed.”

  “There are other jobs.”

  “Right. By tomorrow, every single job I could get will be filled. Chuck Beaufort has all the power, Nick. You know what kind of influence he has. This is a small town and there aren’t many choices.”

  “Shel, I’m not the enemy.” His jaw tightened. “But damn it, I couldn’t stand to see Natalie treat you like that any longer. What I said was true. You’re smart, talented and you can get another job. Hell, I don’t even know why you kept hanging around this ranch for so long. You could go anywhere.”

  Shelby compressed her lips. “Some of us don’t have the luxury. We have responsibilities. Good night, Nick.”

  She trudged off to her bedroom, misery filling her. She could go anywhere.

  Belle Creek was her home, the only real home she ever knew. And when Nick flung his hands into the air and decided to give up and sell, she wouldn’t have a choice.

  She’d have to pack up and leave.

  But he was right. Perhaps now was the right time to embrace change.

  Chapter 10

  Five days after Shelby had quit her job, she fell into a routine at the Belle Creek. Now that she wasn’t as tired from working nights, she had time to paint. She set up her easel in the barn and, each morning, headed there to work.

  Today the morning light spilled onto the wood floor, a haze glistening in the distance. Sitting on a bale of hay, she worked for two hours, each brush stroke soothing. Finally, satisfied with the results, she stopped. Dan had asked her to inventory every single piece of equipment in the old barn. Tomorrow, she promised herself she’d look for a new job.

  Much as she knew it was best to put distance between them—shoot, an entire state of distance would be safest—Shelby didn’t resist when Nick insisted on helping her.

  Though the morning had dawned clear and cold, it warmed rapidly. Sunlight streamed into the old barn as dust motes danced in the beams. Inventory was boring, but essential work each year. Nick brought in a portable radio and tuned it to a popular country station.

  Usually she worked alone, enjoying the solitude. Today she was too aware of the big man next to her, black Stetson on his head, the red-and-black-checked flannel shirt stretched tight across his deep chest, the smoky timbre of his voice as he called back to her the items to check off.

  Even the subtle tang of his aftershave proved a distraction, lacing through the oil and gasoline smells of the tractors, and the hay stored by the animal stalls.

  Clipboard in hand, he wrote down and checked off items as they combed through the barn. The iPad was more efficient, he’d argued, but this old-fashioned method of paper and pencil made her feel more in control.

  She needed to feel in control of something.

  They were interrupted by Mario, who came with the truck to get more hay for the stables. As she went through smaller items stored at the barn’s back, Nick helped Mario stack a few bales into the pickup’s bed. After Mario left, Nick swigged back a bottle of water, his strong throat muscles working. Sitting on a bale of hay, Shelby sipped from her bottle, fascinated by a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

  He set down the bottle and began moving to the beat of a lively song on the radio. “C’mon, Shel, let’s dance.”

  Laughing, she watched him cut a smooth move across the weathered floorboards. Nick held out his hand, a spark in his eyes. “Show me what you’ve got, darling.”

  As she crossed the floor to join him, the song ended. The radio played Rascal Flatts’s “Bless the Broken Road.”

  Slow dance. It didn’t deter Nick. He reached out, pulled her into his arms and began a slow dance. Shelby didn’t resist. It felt good, curled against his chest, his arms secure around her. The haunting melody surrounded them, spliced with the distant whinny of horses in the pasture, and the wind rustling through the treetops outside.

  Nick was like the singer. He’d traveled a broken road for years, and had finally come home. Shelby sighed and moved with him, their bodies swaying. He was all hard muscle and sinew, and yet he held her gently, as if he cherished having her in his arms.

  I could stay like this forever. Maybe this is the end of Nick’s broken road, and I’m the one for him.

  Reality nudged the edges of her daydream. Nick might be a drifter, but he wasn’t home for good. He could continue to roam, and every minute she denied this fact, the more she stood to have her heart broken all over again.

  As the song ended, she gently untangled herself from him. Nick looked down at her, an inscrutable expression on his face, those dark eyes filled with secrets.

  “We should get back to work,” she murmured, heading back for her clipboard.

  Nick pushed a hand through his hair. “Let’s take a break. How about a bite in town?”

  Shelby gave him a wry look. “The Bucking Bronc?”

  His little smile sent flutters of pleasure shooting through her. “I was thinking lunch at Flo’s café. Grilled cheese and tomato, and hot tomato-basil soup.”

  Oh, so tempting. Shelby thought of her tight budget.

  “You go. I want to finish this section of the barn by the time Felicity picks up Timmy from school.”

  Nick set down the clipboard and went to her. “My treat, Shel. C’mon. It’s just lunch.” He gave her a woebegone look. “Please? I need you to protect me. You won’t let all those lusty waitresses jump me, will you?”

  Couldn’t help it, with that charming grin of his. “Oh, yeah, Shirley and Maude are real scary, Nick. They’re more likely to jump all over Glenna when she gets a new stock of fabric in her shop. They’re in love with quilting, not your amazing bod.”

  “You think so?” He came close enough for her to see the dark stubble dusting his lean cheeks and chin. Hadn’t shaved this morning. He looked real sexy, too. “You think I have a hot bod?”

  Shelby rolled her eyes. “I think you have a very large ego.”

  “Everything about me is big.” Nick winked and his grin was so engaging, she had to laugh.

  “Let’s go, Shel. Take a break.”

  She took five minutes to splash water on her face and change from her grubby T-shirt into a knit cranberry sweater. Outside, Nick stood by the Harley. He handed her the helmet. She gave the bike a dubious look.

  “That again? What about the truck?”

  “The bike doesn’t waste as much gas. And I like having you so close behind me.” Nick winked.

  They mounted the bike and roared off. Shelby felt the warmth of his body as she curled against him, her legs pressed against the hardness of his muscled thighs. Heaven was a motorcycle, even in the cold wind cutting through the thinness of her worn jean jacket.

  Heaven was Nick Anderson, taking her for a ride.

  She closed her eyes, adrift in fantasy. She could pretend they were cruising on a highway in France, headed away from the city for a day. Maybe find a win
ery and drink Bordeaux and eat yellow cheese, sharp and pungent. Spread out a blanket overlooking the grape vines, the sun warming them as they kissed beneath the sky...

  Nick slowed down. She opened her eyes to see him turn right, toward the new shopping center built only two years ago by Chuck Beaufort Enterprises. Oh, right. Flo had moved her diner when the rent on Main got too pricey.

  Nick pulled into the shopping center parking lot and cut the engine. She watched him toe the kickstand in place and remove his helmet. He pocketed the keys. He swung one muscled leg over the bike and held out a hand.

  A sexy biker with a wicked smile and a tempting body. Shelby suppressed a sigh. It was lunch. Nothing more. Shelby removed her helmet, fluffed out her hair. Helmet head. If this was a date, and he was planning an afternoon delight, he was in for disappointment. She had too much work.

  They walked the length of the shopping center toward the busy diner. And then they came to an office that read in bold letters Martha Horner Reality.

  Nick ground to an abrupt halt as he scanned the photos in the window. His face grew angry.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Silently, he pointed to the array of photos in the window. Shelby leaned close, her weary gaze scanning the real estate offerings. His index finger trailed across the glass to a flyer posted in the window. As she read the words, suddenly her hunger fled.

  The flyer was advertising for investors in a ground-floor opportunity called Countryville, a venture that could create hundreds of jobs in the county. Prime views of the Smoky Mountains. Interested parties could call Martha’s office.

  But it was the photo on the paper that raised her blood pressure. Only one piece of land had that spectacular view of the mountains.

  The north pasture of the Belle Creek.

  Her furious gaze dropped to the elegant logo at the paper’s bottom. Chuck Beaufort Enterprises.

  “He’s really going to do it. He doesn’t even have the land!”

  “He’s confident enough he can grab it for a steal.” Nick jingled the keys in his hand. “Did some checking in town. Seems Beaufort has been bragging about Countryville for a month now, how it will bring jobs to the town. Hotel as big as Opryland, with its own theater, swimming pool and...stables.”