Her Rancher Bodyguard (10 page)

“Ouch, Wilder.”

“Sorry, Stanford. That's going to hurt tomorrow.”

She moved, dislodging his hand. “Why do people always say, ‘It's going to hurt tomorrow'? You know something? It hurts right now.”

“I guess we just want you to know it's going to be worse before it gets better,” he shot back.

She rolled her eyes at him, those big blue eyes. “Thanks, Wilder, your encouragement means everything.”

Her voice sounded too tight, too emotional. He wanted to laugh it off, make it all a joke.

“That's what I'm here for,” he said.

“I'm glad we all know why we're here,” Brody Martin said as he pinned Boone with a look. “Wilder, the reason you're here is to keep my sister safe.”

Boone leaned against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Brody. Obviously Brody had forgotten that Boone was a few years older, and a few inches taller. It hadn't been too many years ago that the two of them had gone at each other. With Brody on the losing end of the fight. All in good fun, of course.

He winked at Kayla, then turned his attention back to her brother.

“I think you can go home, Brody. We're good.”

“You have someone helping?” Brody asked.

“Daron. I'm assuming he's at my place and if not, he'll be back soon. And we'll see you all at church tomorrow.”

Brody shifted his attention from Boone to Kayla. “You're sure you're okay?”

“I'm good, Brody. I'm sure that it won't be the last time I get thrown.”

Brody leaned against the counter, looking down at her. “I don't mean getting tossed, Kayla. I want to know that you're okay and if there's anything we can do. You have family now.”

“I'll let you know. But you should go. Grace will be wondering where you are,” Kayla stated with simple ease. And it was enough to get Brody's attention. It even put some kind of strange smile on his face that Boone never would have pictured there. It was the look of a man completely in love with his wife and baby.

Boone pushed down a strange spike of jealousy that he hadn't expected. He didn't need complications. He glanced around the big country house at the family that depended on him. His mom was in the kitchen, making a batch of brownies with Molly's help. Michaela was holding her daughter as Molly stirred. The twins were in the living room arguing, as usual. It was his family that kept him grounded, kept him here doing what needed to be done.

His gaze connected with Kayla's. Their smiles touched in a way that nearly undid him. It felt as if she'd reached out and brushed his heart with that smile.

He wasn't a poetic sort of guy, not normally. But it moved him, that smile of hers. Boone walked closer to her. She glanced up at him, her eyes widening.

The gesture didn't go unnoticed. Of course it didn't. Not with his mom and sister present. Not with Samantha and Brody Martin standing not five feet away. And yet, even with everyone around them, he couldn't help but brush his fingers across hers, a brief gesture that seemed to suck the air right out of him.

From across the room, Brody cleared his throat. “Well, if you've got things handled here, I'm heading home.”

“Things are handled,” Boone assured his friend.

“Yeah, it looks as if they are.” Brody headed for the front door, Samantha trailing next to him with a last look back and a smile for her sister.

Boone walked them out, because he'd been raised to be polite. And because Brody and Sam had been friends of his for years. Things would get back to normal. Kayla would go back to her life in Austin with occasional visits to the Martin ranch, and her family. Boone would see her from time to time. Or not.

He was almost thirty, and for the first time in a long time, that “or not” part bothered him. He didn't know how Kayla had managed to twist him up like a ball of twine in just a couple of weeks, but she had.

There were a whole lot of reasons the two of them were a bad idea. She was city. He was as country as they came. He was her bodyguard. She was his client. This was just about the worst time for him to feel as though he wanted to take this girl to dinner, maybe more than once.

Chapter Nine

S
unday morning Boone left the rest of his family fighting over the two bathrooms they shared and headed for his RV. It was the best kind of fall morning, a little bit cool and the smell of drying grass in the air. On a morning like this one, he could almost forget the troubles knocking at their door. He could let himself forget about unpaid medical bills, his dad's health problems and the complication that was Kayla Stanford.

He took a deep breath as he walked the worn path, Sally coming to greet him with a low and familiar woof. He ran a hand over her head. In response she gave him a soft look of loyalty. “This is why you're the woman for me, Sally.”

A familiar Ford King Ranch was parked in front of his RV. “But you could be a better guard dog and run him off,” he told her. She trotted off, completely oblivious.

As he walked up the steps of his trailer, he glanced at his watch. He had thirty minutes to get ready, and Daron had better not be hogging his bathroom. His mom had given him the warning look before he'd headed out. They weren't going to be late today, she'd informed them all at breakfast. Because the Wilders did tend to be late. Often. There were a lot of them and that meant fighting over bathrooms. Even with the schedule their mom had posted on the fridge, they were always trying to sneak in during someone else's allotted time. They were a rowdy bunch, he guessed. And probably something of a novelty to someone like Kayla Stanford.

The smell of burned eggs greeted him as he walked through the door of the trailer. Great, Daron was cooking again. That never ended well. The kitchen was a mess. There were dirty dishes, a pan in the sink with scorched scrambled eggs, and something that looked like it might have been sausage was in the dog's bowl. The dog whined and then nudged at what appeared to be a burned offering.

Loud, off-key singing overwhelmed the music on the radio. The dog looked up at Boone, one ear lifted.

“He has to go, right, Sally?” Boone asked the dog.

The singing stopped. A few minutes later Daron walked down the hall, his hair still damp. “Oh, hey. I didn't know you were back. I made breakfast.”

“Yeah, I know. The government called. They asked that you stop making weapons of mass destruction.”

“Very funny.”

“Seriously, don't cook again. Ever. My mom made a five-course breakfast.”

Daron tossed his towel over the back of a chair and reached for his boots. “I'm not going to mooch off your parents.”

Boone gave him a look.

Daron laughed it off. “I don't mind mooching off you. You're my friend.”

“That's debatable. I've got to jump in the shower and get ready for church. Why don't you button that shirt and pretend you're civilized. You can ride with me to church and join us for lunch later.”

“I think God and I have other things to work out,” Daron grumbled as he headed for the door. “I have to make a run to Austin.”

“Maybe you ought to stop that running. Slow down a little.”

Daron stopped at the door. “You fix yourself, Boone Wilder. I'll fix me.”

“Yeah, okay.” Boone sat down to remove his prosthesis. “So how is she?”

“She?” Daron stood with the door open. “I don't know who you mean.”

“Can we stop dancing around this subject? Emma. How is she?”

Daron glanced out the door, his smile long gone. “Poor. Alone. And doing her best to raise Jamie.”

“He should have married her.”

“He's dead, so no reason to throw stones now.”

Boone conceded that point. “Yeah, I know. She still chasing you off the place with that rusted-out shotgun?”

Daron grinned. “Yep. She says I don't owe her anything. I think I do.”

“We all feel as if we owe someone, don't we?” Boone stood, holding the edge of the table to balance.

“I guess we do. Who do you owe?”

Boone turned away from his friend. “You'd better go.”

“Yeah, all right. Be careful. I'll be around tomorrow to give you a break.”

“That would be good. I've got to get some work done around here.”

Daron waved a hand and walked out the door. Boone watched from the kitchen window as his friend climbed in his truck and headed off down the drive, throwing a little dust and gravel in his wake. After a few minutes he hopped down the hallway, trying not to get caught up in Daron's pain, in his past.

They all had stuff to deal with.

* * *

When Boone pulled up to his folks' house shortly before ten, the family was spilling out the door and heading for the big van that hauled them all. He parked behind the van and got out, wincing a little at the jab of pain he hadn't been expecting. His sister Michaela shot him a look. With a grin and a wink he pushed aside her concern and headed for Kayla. She was waiting her turn to climb into the van.

“You'll be riding with me,” he informed her.

She gave him a dark look, her blue eyes arctic. He just smiled, because he knew that would rile her more than anything he had to say. She was a tall woman, he realized, not for the first time. Tall and too thin. Her dark hair was pulled back and wispy curls framed her face. But he was her bodyguard, not her date.

“In the car, sunshine.” He motioned her toward his truck.

“I'll ride in the van with everyone else,” she countered.

“And make me ride to town all alone? That wouldn't be charitable of you.”

She let out a sigh, the kind that was meant to tell him just how put out she was. But when he put a hand on her arm to guide her to his truck, she went with him. A quick glance back, he caught his mom's gaze on them, her eyes narrowed. Yeah, she would worry. He wished he could find a way so that she could do less of that. He would like to give her a year of no worries, for anyone or anything. It wasn't realistic, he knew that, but it seemed like worry should be equally distributed. One woman shouldn't get more than her share.

He opened the truck door for Kayla but she didn't get in. Instead, she gave him a more pleading look, the kind that tugged at a guy's heart. “Please, just let me stay here. I'm not going to leave.”

“I'm not worried about you leaving, Kayla. I'm worried because someone is stalking you. I don't want you hurt.”

Her eyes widened, telling him more with that look than she'd told him with words. She didn't expect him to care. When was the last time she expected anyone to care? She bit down on her bottom lip, then turned to get in the truck. “Boone, don't act as if this is more than a job.”

What was he supposed to say to that?

“Kayla, this
is
more than a job. And I'm not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“Too late,” she whispered, then climbed into the truck and reached to close the door.

On the way to church Boone tried not to think about those two words she'd spoken.
Too late.
That had opened up something. He could see it in her expression, in the tension of her shoulders.

The last thing he wanted was to be the person who hurt her.

They pulled up at Martin's Crossing Community Church. The parking lot was overflowing and someone was ringing the bell. He parked and got out, but he was starting to feel as if this was a bad idea.

When he opened her door she looked up, one tear trickling down her cheek before she swiped it away and put on a big smile.

He'd spent a few years getting his life together and not getting involved with anyone. That tear sliding down her pale face just about undid all of his resolve. Yup. He was involved, no two ways about it.

“Don't worry, I'm not falling apart.” With those words she got out of his truck and took his hand.

Boone led her through the front door of the building. As they walked past a pew he noticed a box of tissue. He grabbed the box and handed it to her.

“The whole box?” She laughed, but it was shaky. “I'm not going to lose it. It's nothing, so don't get all he-man on me.”

“I just thought you might want to blow your nose. You're a mess.”

She laughed again, but the laughter didn't stop the silent fall of tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Stop laughing like that, Stanford. You'll have people convinced you like me.”

She pulled a tissue from the box and wiped her eyes. “I doubt it.”

“Okay, they'll think I made you cry.” He led her to an empty pew and motioned her in ahead of him. “People see what they want to see.”

She gave him a long, careful look. “What do you think they see, Boone? When they look at you, what do they see?”

Good for her, turning the tables on him. “They see a guy who takes his family and his career very seriously. A guy who can keep you safe.”

“I believe that, too.”

The way she said it surprised him. And worried him. He didn't want to let her down.

* * *

The pew filled up. Which meant she had to move closer to Boone's side. Closer to the protection of his body, to the scent of his cologne. Closer to a realization about herself. For years she'd been running from her pain and herself. It had taken this situation, this man, to force her to confront the past. He'd helped her open up because he knew how to be quiet and listen.

There was no way to run, not this time.

After her mom's death she had run from her siblings, from the very people who could have helped and would have been there for her. She was her own worst enemy. She knew that about herself. There might be a stranger threatening to expose secrets, seeking money, but the things she could have and had done to herself were far worse.

That was then. This was now.

When she'd returned home from that trip to Mexico she'd entered rehab. Twelve steps to a new life. One step closer to God. It hadn't been easy, laying down everything before God: all the dirty little secrets, her shame, her anger, her pain.

But God already knew. Or so she'd been told. He knew her heartache. Knew her past and her future. Her sponsor had told her that God could make something beautiful from the ashes of her life.

That same sponsor had given the analogy that she should see herself as a broken vase. God was the glue to put her back together. Kayla thought it was a sweet story, but in truth there were pieces missing, so how could she ever be truly whole?

The service ended with a prayer. Kayla bowed her head and closed her eyes, needing that moment to pull herself together. She knew how to smile and pretend none of it mattered. She knew how to act as if it hadn't touched her at all. But she needed a minute to pull on her all-smiles mask.

But the service had touched her. It had felt like a continuation of her talk with Maria Wilder, when Maria had prayed with her and told her to give herself and God a chance. Maria had also told her to forgive her dad. Forgive him, not just for him, but for herself. She had shaken off that suggestion. She was too angry to forgive. He didn't need or want her forgiveness because he didn't believe he'd done anything wrong.

A hand tightened on hers. As she stood, Boone's hand went to her back. It felt strangely protective. And she noticed he was on alert. His eyes darted to the back of the church and quickly took in the crowd.

“Do you think my stalker is going to show up here? In the middle of Nowhere, Texas?” she asked as he guided her through the church.

“I'm not taking any chances.” He pointed. “There's your sister.”

“Oh, that's right, lunch. We don't have to go.”

“No, we don't. But we're going. I'm not letting you out of lunch with your family.”

“I don't want to keep you from your family.”

“You're not keeping me from anything, Stanford. There're so many of us Wilders, Mom won't notice one or two of us missing.”

Samantha was upon them, her smile bright, her hug long and suffocating. “I was afraid you'd skip out on us.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Oh, yes, you would.” Samantha gave her another quick hug and then directed her attention to Boone. “You look, glum. No offense.”

“Sam, if I took offense every time you ran me down, I'd be hiding in a corner somewhere trying to find my self-esteem.”

“The two of you are coming over for lunch, correct?” Sam asked.

Boone didn't respond. He gave her a look, letting her know it was her decision to make.

“Yes, we're coming over.” Kayla let her gaze slide to Boone. But he wasn't paying attention, not to her. He was watching the dwindling crowds, attentive and focused.

“Earth to Boone,” Kayla teased.

He flicked her a look, accompanied by a frown.

“He's playing bodyguard,” Kayla said in a stage whisper.

Boone gave her one of his well-meaning looks. She found them entertaining. This one told her he had a job to do. And she wasn't helping.

“I do take my job seriously, Stanford. And in case you forgot, this isn't a game.”

“I know, I'm sorry.”

Samantha cleared her throat. “Okay, then, we'll see the two of you at Duke's?”

“Yes, at Duke's.”

Kayla would have said more to her sister, but Boone took hold of her arm and guided her toward the side exit, not the main doors.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Changing things up.” He kept walking, his hand firm on her elbow.

“Boone, stop. You're starting to scare me.”

He didn't slow down. “You should be scared.”

“Why? I have you, right? You're the best. And whoever is doing this is just out for money. They aren't after anything else.”

He kept walking, not answering her questions. When they got to the back door of the church, he stepped out first, looking both ways. He pulled her close to his side. “Stay close with me, Kayla.”

“I'm with you.”

They headed for the truck, not stopping to talk to people who called out. She tried to wave, to smile an apology. He didn't give her time. When they got to his old truck, he pulled the door open and practically lifted her inside.