Chapter Thirteen
As he pulled his gun from his waistband, Nick was surprised to see Delaney pull one out from beneath a plaid kitchen towel. Maybe she was more frightened than she let on. Smart woman.
Nick motioned for her to stay put. She shook her head vigorously, but he held up a stiff finger and pointed it at her. One minute, you wait here.
When she took a step toward him, he thrust her a hardened glare. Back off. The last thing he wanted to do was explain a bullet wound to her daughter, Felicity.
Delaney became still. She lowered the gun to her side. Satisfied she got the message, Nick moved softly in the direction of the noise that had come from the back room. He paused at the open doorway. Must be her bedroom. Jeans were piled in a basket in the corner, a dresser backed against the wall beside him. Next to it, a door sat ajar, presumably her bathroom. Fleeting images of Delaney naked in the shower zipped through his mind, but he squelched them. He edged along the wall, restraining his reaction to the perfumed scent lingering in the air. On the far side, there was a curtained window. Whoever was out there had the advantage. They could see in, but he couldn’t see out.
Nick could feel Delaney standing by the door. Turning to her, he whispered, “Turn out the lights.”
She disappeared and the living room went dark. Within seconds, he noted the drift of floral fragrance as she tiptoed up beside him. Her hand came to rest on his upper arm. “Did you see anything?” she whispered.
Although he couldn’t see her, he could hear her breathing by his side. The hand on his arm assaulted his focus. Images of her T-shirted torso, her lean legs in the thin cotton pants flooded his mind. It was the steel pistol against his thigh that disconcerted him. “No,” he managed. He scanned the blackness, but could see almost nothing. The cabin seemed to be embedded within the mountain itself, the window a wedge between a wall of wood and a wall of earth. Access to her room would be difficult from this angle. Not impossible, but difficult.
The soft pads of her fingers pressed into him. “What is it?”
“I don’t know yet.” He turned from the window. “Do you have a back door?”
“No.” She slid her hand to his elbow.
“I didn’t see anything outside,” he said. The hard line of the gun in her hand was less than reassuring. He noted she left the gun hot. Last thing he needed was for her to misfire in the dark and hit him. “You wait here. I’ll go check it out.”
“Wait—” Delaney clutched at him. “I’ll come with you.”
“Scared?”
“No.”
Nick chuckled softly.
“I can’t see you,” she said, then snapped, “And I’d hate to shoot you by accident after all your help.”
You and me both. Placing his hand over hers, Nick gingerly removed her hand from his arm. “Thanks, but I won’t be long.”
Working from memory, he crossed the room in the inky blackness—which was easy—a route which fortunately was short and straight. As he rounded her bedroom door, the front porch light came into view. Once again, Nick instructed Delaney to stay put while he checked outside. Snaking along the wall, he kept an eye on the front door, toggling between it and the small window to the left. If someone was lying in wait outside, Nick needed to maintain an element of surprise. As he neared the door, he watched for signs of movement. Through the etched glass, the light shone white. Unlikely anyone would stand out there exposed, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The man he met on the trail had already proven his boldness. Nick slid his hand to the door knob. Slowly, silently, he turned it. He raised his gun to eye level and poised his finger on the trigger. Easing the door open, he peered out through the slice of opening. Something moved. His grip tightened. His breathing stopped.
Down the trail, Nick spotted a dark figure running. He was almost positive it was a man. Slipping outside, he stole quickly across the porch. Through the screen, he sharpened his focus, but the swath of light wasn’t enough for him to see with any clarity.
But he didn’t have to. Someone had been here. Nick detected the scent of tobacco in the air. He turned and stopped suddenly at the sight of Delaney standing in the open doorway. “What are you doing?”
“Did you see someone?” she whispered.
Standing only feet behind him, she was an easy shot, should someone decide to take one. So was he. Nick tucked his weapon back into the waistband of his jeans and strode over to her. “Didn’t I tell you to wait?”
“I’m not waiting in there like a sitting duck,” she said, reaching for his arm again. She peered down the trail that led to Ernie’s cabin. “Did you see someone?”
Nick’s instinct was to lie, set her mind at ease. The protector in him wanted her to remain calm. But the man in him liked the way she grabbed hold of him for protection. “Someone was here.”
Her expression registered the hit. “You saw him?”
Nick caught another whiff of floral and fruit and thought it might be her shampoo. “Yes,” he said, glancing over her hair. Pulled up into a loosely tied bun, strands of creamy blonde fell into a frame about her face. It accentuated her dark brows, eyes black as coal within the dim light. Nick could see her unease catch fire as she imagined the man lurking outside in the darkness. “He’s gone,” he reassured.
She clutched at him. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Went down the trail.”
Her eyes flicked down the trail, then back to him. “How can you be sure he won’t come back?”
“I can’t. Which is why I’m staying.”
Delaney returned a look that nearly undid him. The tough girl had shades of vulnerability. “It’ll be okay.” He cast a glance around the porch and cupped his hand over hers. “The good news is, you only have one way in or out. I’ll park myself here so you can rest easy. No one will get by me tonight.”
“All night?” she uttered.
“All night.” He took her by the hand and led her back into the cabin.
Delaney paused at the door, her slender hand softly pulling from his. “But where will you sleep?”
He smiled down at her. “Now what kind of body guard would that make me if I slept on the job?”
Delaney realized her error and faltered, “I—I…” She glanced about her porch, the furnishing limited to a couple of rickety rocking chairs and a wobbly wood table. “There’s not even a place to sit, really.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent time in worse.”
A wounded look entered her eyes, her very beautiful, very vulnerable, very alluring eyes. He noted that the dim lighting softened everything about her. “I only meant that I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly, as though debating her next move.
“I could use a glass of water, if you can spare it.”
Delaney shook her head , as if to clear it. “Of course,” she said.
Nick followed her to the kitchen, his attention divided between the gun in her hand and the lengths of hair falling about her neck and shoulders. She flipped on the light, but froze, her hand on the switch. “Is that okay?”
He gave a confident nod. “He’s gone. You keep the curtains closed and you’ll be fine.” Nick watched the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the faded T-shirt as she inhaled deeply to calm herself. “Your daughter already handing out the university gear?” he asked, indicating the white emblem on the front of her orange shirt.
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 choosin
g.”
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 rocker 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 tight
ly 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.”
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