Handsome Hero: A Clean and Wholesome Contemporary Western Romance (Handsome Devils Book 7)

by Lori Wilde

She could call her father and ask him to speak to Adam. If both men stopped talking to the press about what happened, the story would die. After a second, she scratched that idea. Roger Delacorte wouldn't listen to her. He'd wanted her to marry Adam. He'd liked the idea of having a professional baseball player in the family, so she knew he'd say whatever it took to get her to come home.

  Even if she could get hurt again by Adam.

  A tapping on the front door made Sugar growl softly. Instinct kicked in again. For one second, Paige remained motionless, and then the tapping formed the usual pattern—tap, tap, tap-a-tap-tap.

  Diane Mitchell.

  Letting out the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, Paige headed to the front door and looked through the peephole. Sure enough, it was Diane, making goofy faces.

  “Let me in. I've got man trouble,” Diane said.

  That made two of them.

  After turning off the alarm, Paige undid the dead bolt, then opened the door. Before she'd even had a chance to say hello to her friend and neighbor, Diane burst into the room.

  “I can't believe what Kyle has done now. I swear, I'm going to break up with him. I don't care how many years we've lived together; the man has got to go.”

  Paige shut and relocked the door. “What happened?”

  Diane was a petite brunette who was constantly upset with her boyfriend. But after four weeks, Paige knew her friend would never actually break up with Kyle. The two were very much in love, even though they argued fairly often.

  “He wants to buy the house we’re renting,” Diane said flatly as she flopped onto the couch. “Can you imagine?”

  Baffled, Paige shrugged and sat in the chair facing the couch. “What's wrong with wanting to buy a house?”

  Diane looked like she'd suggested they live in a cave. “Owning a house, Paige. That means a mortgage and responsibilities.” Diane shuddered. “Old people own houses in the suburbs. People with two-point-five kids own houses. Artists don't. Creators don't.”

  Paige barely refrained from laughing. Diane wasn't technically an artist. She made paperweights and sold them online. They were pretty, but not really useful. Paige owned three and had no idea what to do with them.

  Still, she could tell Diane was upset. Truthfully, she couldn't quite sympathize. Right now, she liked her nice house. It felt safe. She’d love to buy it and stay in Honey.

  “Diane, maybe you two could compromise. You could buy a house, but not necessarily the one you’re in at the moment. Maybe something in a big city. Although, I think you're being too harsh. I'm sure lots of artists live in the suburbs.”

  Diane rolled her eyes and sat cross-legged. “Not if they want to maintain their edge. I can't create in a world like that, and Kyle knows it. I can’t create with that much responsibility hanging over my head. It would destroy my life. It would be chaos.”

  “No, it wouldn't.” As a person whose life had been turned chaotic, Paige knew that for a fact. Up until a few months ago, she'd been happy and relaxed. Now she was suspicious of everyone. It had taken her the last few weeks to trust Diane, and she still hadn’t told her who she was.

  “Yoo-hoo,” Diane waved her hands. “You're not listening to me. You're going all serious.”

  Paige blinked. “Sorry.”

  For a couple of seconds, Diane just looked at her. Then she asked, “When are you going to tell me what's going on?” When Paige started to deny her assumption, Diane shook her head. “Don't tell me nothing's going on because I know that's not true. I can look at you and tell you've got something serious on your mind.”

  “Nothing is wrong.” Paige appreciated Diane's concern, but she was hesitant to tell anyone who she was. More than likely, Diane would think she crazy worrying about the press. Who wouldn’t want their picture on magazines and plastered all over the internet?

  “You sure?”

  “Nothing is wrong,” Paige repeated, standing and putting Sugar on her leash. “Want to go for a walk with us?”

  She wasn't trying to chase off Diane, but she did want to change the subject. And Sugar needed to go outside.

  “Fine. Don't tell me what's bothering you. We'll talk about something else,” Diane said, sighing dramatically. “But you remember, kiddo, if you ever need anything...anything at all, you come to me.”

  “I will,” Paige said, meaning it. She appreciated knowing she had at least one friend in the world whom she could trust. Okay, maybe two … or three. She trusted Hal. And Alma. She trusted them, too.

  Now that she thought about it, there were a couple of waitresses at work, Krystal and Annie, she trusted as well. They'd been nothing but sweet to her since the day she'd started at the Honey Café. She hadn’t told them who she was, of course, but she’d like to think she could trust them.

  Maybe she wasn't so alone after all.

  Feeling infinitely better, she was tempted to talk to Diane, not about Adam and the whole mess she'd left behind in Dallas, but about the new guy, Max.

  But if she said one word about Max, Diane wouldn't understand her concerns. Instead, she'd dig for details—was he cute, was he nice, did he want to come to dinner at Paige's house. She wouldn't understand that Paige didn't want to date the man; she just wanted to decide if she should be wary of him or not.

  Diane headed toward the door. “Let's go for this walk and see if we can figure out my man trouble. Then maybe we can talk about finding a man for you. I think it's about time you had a little Y-chromosome action tossed your way.”

  Paige shook her head. “Y-chromosome action is the last thing I want, thank you very much.”

  “Ah, hon, don't be that way. They're not all dogs. Some of them are downright sweet,” Diane reasoned. “It's like picking a mango. You have to look it over carefully because sometimes it's difficult to see the rotten spots. But once you find a good one, grab it and hold on because it's going to bring you a lot of happiness.”

  Paige opened the front door, and once Diane joined her on the porch, she relocked it. Then she headed down the steps in front of her house. “Thanks for the tip. I'll be sure to remember that the next time I go shopping for a mango. And you should keep that in mind when you think about leaving Kyle. I'm pretty sure he's an excellent mango.”

  Diane got a sappy smile on her face. “Yes. Even with his nutso idea about a house, he's still an excellent mango. Now all we have to do is find you one.”

  Paige didn't bother to answer. She had no interest in finding a mango...rotten or not. Right now, all she wanted was her life back.

  Max slid down in his seat when he saw Paige and another woman walk out of her house. They had a dog with them and were engrossed in a conversation. For about ten minutes, they walked around the neighborhood, never getting far from Paige’s house. Then, after the dog was done, they headed back inside.

  Max sat up and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Time to let Trav know he'd found Paige.

  Travis answered on the first ring. “Hey, you're late. You were supposed to check in at ten.”

  “I had to work,” Max explained. “My shift didn't end until a few minutes ago.”

  “What are you talking about? What shift? Did you find Alyssa Delacorte or not?”

  Max didn't miss the frustration in Travis' voice. “Yeah. I found her.” He explained about the Honey Café and his new job. “Now I'm sitting in my car outside her house.”

  “You call her father yet?” Trav rustled through some papers. “Want the number again?”

  Max started to say he had the number and would make the call in a couple of minutes, but something stopped him. Something told him that was a bad decision. He'd learned over the years to go with his gut on things like this.

  “You call him. Tell him I've found her, but say I didn't tell you where I am,” Max told him.

  “Mind telling me why all the cloak-and-dagger? He's not going to be happy if I don't tell him where his daughter is.”

  “Tell him you’ll get back to him with Paige'
s address,” Max said. “He should be happy just knowing she’s okay.”

  “Paige?”

  “That's what Alyssa goes by. She calls herself Paige Harris.” After a second, he told his brother, “Don't tell Delacorte that, either.”

  “I take it you don't trust her father,” Travis said dryly. “Why else wouldn't you tell the client what he was paying you to find out?”

  Max wasn't sure why he didn't want to let Paige's father know where she was; he just didn't. Something didn't feel right. “Let me scope this out first.”

  Travis laughed. “Is she cute? Is that it? You want to spend some time with her before you convince her to go home to her fiancé?”

  Leave it to Travis to come up with a lame theory like that. Max told his brother in no uncertain terms what he thought of that idea, but Travis only laughed more.

  “Fine, fine, I stand corrected. Your motives are pure. But then why all the secrets?”

  Max couldn't shake the feeling that Paige’s father and ex-fiancé had dubious motives. “Let me have a few more days to check this out.”

  “Whatever,” Travis said. “I'll call the father in the morning. Take the heat for you. Suffer through his anger. Be your fall guy.”

  Max groaned. “Gee, what a sport. Just remember, I gave you a job when no one else would.”

  “Hey, buddy, I saved your butt when you couldn't find anyone decent to work for you,” Travis countered in their familiar joke.

  “That only proves I still don't have any decent help,” Max added dryly.

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

  “So how are things at the office?” Max asked.

  “Fine. I caught up on all your paperwork for you,” Travis said. “Did all your boring tasks. Cleaned up the filing. You know, stuff we kid brothers always have to do for our older brothers who can't be bothered.”

  “Put it on my tab. Let's see, by my calculations, I owe you three million, six hundred and fifty-three thousand for the times you saved my butt, and you owe me four million, seven hundred and thirty-six thousand for all the times I've saved yours. I'm still winning.”

  Travis laughed. “Sounds about right.”

  “Anything else new?”

  “I started looking at ranches for sale like you asked,” Travis said. “There are lots of possibilities. It all depends on where in Texas you want to live.”

  “Thanks for checking on that for me,” Max said. “Look for something in this area. It’s a nice place.”

  He didn’t want to name the town on the phone. He knew he was overreacting, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

  “Sure. No problem. Not all of us are lucky enough to get damsels in distress to protect. Some of us actually have to work for a living.”

  Max laughed, then told his brother, “Hey, thanks.”

  Max knew his younger brother understood exactly what he meant. They'd grown up on a ranch with a strict father and a mother who had passed when they were tiny. For as long as he could remember, it had been the two of them taking on the world and covering each other's backs.

  He'd do anything for Travis, and he knew his brother felt the same.

  3

  “Come on, baby, it's not going to kill you. Just one kiss. That's all I want. I'll give you a big tip.” With a wink, the man added, “If you're really good, I'll give you more than that.”

  The man and his friends laughed. Paige turned and headed to get their beers. If they were this obnoxious and they hadn't even had a beer yet, what were they going to be like after a couple of drinks?

  Jerks.

  When she reached the bar, she told Max the order, then rubbed her temples. Her head hurt. Badly. And she was practically dead on her feet. She'd gotten hardly any sleep the last couple of nights. It had been windy, and she'd kept hearing noises outside.

  “You okay?” Max asked when he set the beers in front of her. “Got a headache?”

  “A little.”

  “Want something for it? Ibuprofen?”

  “Maybe later.” Paige looked at him. Max had been working at the Honey Café a little over a week. She had to admit, he seemed like a nice guy. He didn't hit on her or make dirty cracks around her. In fact, he rarely talked to her other than to discuss drink orders.

  That was why he surprised her when he said, “We need to talk.”

  “About?”

  “That thing Hal and Alma want us to plan. They grabbed me earlier tonight, and it looks like they're not letting it go.”

  Oh. That. She'd forgotten all about it. “Are they really serious about this?”

  Max didn't seem any happier about it than she was. “I’m afraid so. Guess we can talk later tonight.”

  With that, Max went back to tending bar. Paige had to admit, she liked him. She no longer believed he was a reporter after a story or a photographer looking to grab a few pictures. He hardly seemed to notice her most of the time.

  Max was good to have around. He was friendly to the customers and firm with the ones who had had too much to drink.

  Plus, no one argued with Max when he took their keys away and called a cab instead of letting them drive. Like Hal said, who would argue with Max? The man looked like he could bench-press a Buick.

  Taking a deep breath, Paige headed back to the jerk's table. She kept her distance from him, putting the drinks down quickly and then backing away. Unfortunately, while she'd been working, she hadn't realized the man had stood and circled the table. Now, as she went to walk away, he blocked her path.

  “How about that kiss?” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Chad wants a nice, long, wet one. Come on, baby. Just one kiss.”

  Paige yanked her arm free. She should have seen this coming. If she hadn't been so tired, she would have been thinking clearer.

  “Keep your hands off me,” she told the man firmly, wiping the spot where he'd touched her. “Don’t touch me.”

  The man lunged again, catching her arm again before she could move away. He leaned closer so his face was even with hers, then asked, “Or what? What you going to do, sweet thing?”

  Paige snapped. She’d had enough of this creep. She narrowed her eyes. “I was trained in self-defense. I know how to break a man’s hand with one snap. I know how to break your nose with ease. Want to test me?”

  The man’s smile faded, and he visibly gulped. She got a lot of satisfaction watching his face turn a pasty-white. Slowly he moved back to his side of the table.

  “Hey, I'm not looking for trouble,” the man said, pulling out his chair. “But you’ve been coming on to me all night. And a guy can only be pushed so far.”

  “You're a liar,” Paige said. “I haven’t been coming on to you. Now pack up and get out of here. And make sure you pay for those drinks.”

  She kept her focus on the man, watching him closely while he packed up. She sensed rather than saw Max wander over her way. When she turned around, he had his arms folded across his chest. He really did look like a mountain at the moment, and she knew with absolute certainty that Max was a guy who knew how to take care of himself.

  But so did she. She hadn’t been lying. She had taken several self-defense courses over the years, and although she hadn’t been recently, she did kickbox.

  The weasel obviously knew she meant business because he was so nervous he was sweating. Good. He deserved to sweat.

  Max glanced at her. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Thanks. Everything’s under control.”

  “Yep. You’ve got this covered.”

  The man and his friends stood, tossed some money on the table, and headed toward the door.

  On his way by, the man said softly to Paige, “This isn't over, sweet thing.”

  “For your sake, it better be,” she warned back.

  Next to her, Max made a growling sound, which sent the man hurrying out like a scared rabbit.

  “What a jerk,” Max muttered, shaking his head. “Some guys don't have a clue.”

  Paige sighed. “Tr
ue.”

  “Seems like you know how to take care of yourself,” he said.

  Paige ran her hands through her hair then lowered them to her sides. “I learned a lot of self-defense techniques when I was in college. Sadly, they’ve come in handy before.” She nodded at him. “Thanks, though, for coming over to see if I needed help. You always seem to be in hero mode around me.”

  Max shrugged. “Turns out you didn’t need me. You definitely handled that guy on your own. I just figured I'd give you backup because you have a headache. Speaking of which—” He reached out and lifted one of her hands. He ran his thumb several times across the back of her hand in a gesture he probably thought was soothing. “You’ve been clenching your hands since before he left.”

  Unexpectedly, Paige found his touch incredibly arousing. In the back of her mind, she knew everyone in the Honey Café was watching them.

  And yet, all she could focus on was Max. She stared at him as he gently rubbed her hand. “What are you doing?”

  “You seem tense,” he pointed out. “I'm trying to calm you down.”

  Um, then this wasn't the way. It was like throwing gasoline on a fire. Rather than calming her, his touch was awaking desires she'd buried long ago. He was making it difficult for her to breathe, impossible for her to think. She wanted to pull away from him, wanted to tell him to stop, but lust had wrapped her in its web.

  How could this be happening? A few minutes ago, she'd been angry. Now she was more turned on than she'd ever been in her life.

  What she was feeling must have shown clearly on her face because after a second, Max's expression changed. For one heartbeat, he stopped rubbing her hand and just looked at her. She could feel awareness surround them and desire dance between them. He knew what she was feeling, and as she watched, she saw answering passion ignite and then burn hotly in his gaze.

  He wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him.

  Slowly, deliberately, he started caressing her hand again, this time his touch deliberately sensual. Paige felt heat seep through her body, and her gaze tangled with his as Max moved closer.

  “Danger does this sometimes,” he said, his voice soft and deep. “It doesn't mean anything, Paige. You're upset. That's what's causing this reaction.”