Her Temporary Hero
by Jennifer Apodaca
Copyright © 2014 by Jennifer Apodaca. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Chapter One
“Diapers are expensive, baby girl. What do you think about giving them up?”
Becky Holmes smiled at her daughter perched carefully on her hip, while dropping the precious diapers in the backseat of her weathered Toyota Corolla. Three months of experience had taught her to handle almost any task one-handed. Sophie babbled her answer while Becky secured her in the car seat. The baby’s intense hazel eyes flecked with gray were full of mischief.
“Is that a no?” Fixing the shimmering lilac bow on her oh-so-kissable bald head, she laughed. “Then we’d better get home so I can work on that pageant dress, now hadn’t we?” Setting a cloth book on Sophie’s tummy, she backed out and closed the door. Once they got home, if the baby slept two hours, then she’d be able to finish the dress. With luck, she could deliver it tonight on her way to her cleaning job and—
Her back hit a warm object. Not a car. A man.
Elemental fear shot down her spine. Becky forced herself to breathe and angled her head enough to catch the reflection in the window of her car. Oh God. Fisting her car keys, she spun around and faced the man who’d put her in the hospital a year ago.
“Dylan, you’re out.” Of prison. This couldn’t be happening. He’d taken a plea deal for a hit-and-run accident and been sentenced to a few years in prison. It’d only been five months since he went away. But there he stood, five feet, ten inches of boyish charm, unchecked arrogance, and a carefully cloaked snake-mean streak.
Becky wasn’t afraid of snakes.
She was terrified of Dylan.
His sky blue eyes flicked past her to the backseat. “You’re such a cliché, a dirt dumb ex-beauty queen. Of course I’m out. I’m a Ridgemont. By this time next year, that conviction will be overturned, and the state of Texas will be paying me for their grave error.”
Culture and education flowed through his voice. But he wasn’t totally wrong—she had been dirt dumb to believe that son and heir of the Ridgemont Empire had fallen in love with the scholarship girl from the trailer park. Even dumber not to see the signs of his vicious side. But she’d wised up and wasn’t letting him hurt her baby.
Their baby.
“Okay.” She needed to keep him calm and get away. What did he want? Becky looked around the grocery store parking lot, but there was no one to help. “I don’t want to keep you if you’re heading into the store. I need to get going.”
Dylan curved the left half of his mouth. “Back to your trailer with the new For Sale sign that your ugly ass dog likes to pee on? Or are you taking my kid to work with you tonight cleaning the Wyatt Medical group offices? You don’t go to work until much later, so maybe you’re going to your mom’s new digs at the cemetery?”
Chills skittered down her spine. Greasy sickness coated her mouth. He knew where she lived, worked, and that her mom had died. “You’ve been following me.” The words spilled out and her fear ratcheted up. And up. Until it pounded in her head with the beat of, run, run, run.
Dylan leaned in, slapping his hand on the roof of her car, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I have people to do whatever I need done. I know exactly where you are at all times in case I want to finish what we started the day you ratted me out to the cops over a useless bum that no one gave two shits about.”
“You’ll go back to prison if you touch me.” Becky leaned against the door to keep baby Sophie safe from her father. That whole terrible night replayed in her brain…but the worst of it had been his cold callousness after he hit the man with his truck. Dylan had left him on the street in a pool of blood, driving away with Becky screaming in the passenger seat.
No, don’t think about that, stay focused.
“Keep telling yourself that.” He leaned so close she smelled coffee on his breath. “Oh, and you’d better start saying your good-byes to the brat. I have a team of lawyers working on getting full custody of the kid. You caused me major problems with my family by having it.”
What? No! “You won’t win.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, desperation hammering up her spine. The thought of Sophie in his care was too much. Too awful. Losing Sophie would kill her, but her real fear was for her child’s safety.
“You tried to destroy my life by ratting me out and having that kid after I told you to get rid of it. Payback’s a bitch.” He turned and strode off.
Becky ran around her car, jumped in, and locked all the doors. Her hands shook so badly she couldn’t get the key in the ignition. In the backseat, Sophie gurgled and tried to pick up the book in her fat fists.
Oh God, what to do? Run, but where? How? Her best friend, Ava, lived in a tiny place with two other girls. She couldn’t go there. Maybe a shelter? Leave Dallas, or the state of Texas altogether? Finally getting the key in, she started the car and got them on the road. She hurried home, watching her rearview mirror the entire time.
Was Dylan following them? How long had he been watching them? She needed the money from the sale of the trailer to make a new life for her and Sophie. Or pay lawyers if it came to a custody battle.
She’d thought she had more time, but she’d been wrong. She had to find a safe place to stay while selling the trailer. There was only one person Becky could think of who might be able to help—her boss, Lucinda Knight.
…
As his truck ate up the last miles toward home, Logan Knight refused to think about his deadline in three months. Or the wife he’d need to acquire to keep his acreage on the family ranch.
All he wanted was to get home, strip, and fall into bed. A couple days of peace and solitude would get his nightmares back under control, and then he’d be ready to tackle that contract with his father that he’d foolishly signed before heading off to boot camp almost twelve years ago.
Turning into the Knight Ranch, the headlights of his truck sliced through the inky darkness blanketing Texas’s premier horse ranch. They also had cattle, but their reputation was in their competitive and working Quarter horses. Logan took the road leading north, heading to his land in the most secluded, rustic section. The moonlight poured through the trees, casting long shadows on the finished stables and making the just-framed cabins look like skeleton bones.
In the next three months, Logan was going to turn those bones into a full-fledged retreat for war veterans struggling to cope with PTSD. Camp Warrior Recovery was Logan’s way of doing something that mattered. He supposed it was his way of atoning.
Without warning, the present faded away, replaced by the vivid image of those eight young girls, and the baby—oh God, the baby—all dead. Logan stopped his truck on the side of the road and rubbed his face, willing his one horrifying failure as a Marine to the back of his mind.
In seconds, the memory faded. He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled back onto the road. It was just a brief flash brought on by fatigue. Now that he was home, a few days alone and working on his retreat would level him out.
His three-bedroom house came into view, a dim light glowing in the huge front window. His cousin Lucinda was the only one who knew he was coming home. She must have been by to check on the place and stock his fridge. He owed her a steak dinner.
Once in the house, he toed off his boots, the tension melting from his muscles. Lucinda had left the light on beneath his over-the-range microwave, and judging from the illumination pouring down the hallway, his bedroom lamp. That soft glow drew him like a beacon. Striding across the wood floor, he headed down the hallway so ready to grab a shower and—
A low growl from the bedroom erupted into furious barking.
The hairs on the back of his neck sprang up. Adrenaline powered through him. What the hell was a dog doing in his house?
Quickly securing his weapon from his duffle bag, he swung into the doorway of his bedroom just as a something short and squat came barreling out. A set of determined teeth latched onto his jeans at his ankle, whipping back and forth. Ignoring the dog, he zeroed in on a woman scrambling off his bed. For a second, all he saw was long toned legs, then the tail of a blue shirt sliding around a luscious set of thighs. Dragging his gaze higher, the top buttons of the shirt were undone, gaping open to reveal full, ripe curves.
“Get out! I’m calling 911!”
Her voice snapped him out of his lust fog enough to see that she had a kid, a baby, cradled against her shoulder. Jesus, he had his gun in his hand; he could have shot them both. Fury rippled down his spine. “Do it. Tell the cops you’re squatting in my house with a kid.” He dragged in a breath to get control. “You’re damned lucky I didn’t shoot you.”
The woman fumbled the phone, her eyes locked on the gun and color drained from her face. “Oh God. We have permission to be here. Don’t shoot.”
He hardened himself against the shades of terror building in her eyes. There was no legal explanation for the woman to be in his home. “That pretty little liar routine doesn’t work on me.” The dog tugged on his leg, his toenails scrabbling on the wood floor as he tried to yank Logan from the room. He shook off the animal.
The squat creature snorted with indignation and growled.
“Don’t hurt him! Jiggy, come.”
“Enough. You,” he glared at the woman, determinedly keeping his eyes off the baby. “Don’t move.” He had to be sure no one else was in the house, waiting for the chance to jump him. Quickly he searched the bathroom and closet. He glanced at the woman; she looked too scared to run. Slipping into the hall, he checked the last two bedrooms and bathroom.
Empty.
Returning the gun to the duffle, Logan stepped over the dog growling in the doorway of the bedroom. Steeling himself to keep his gaze off that kid, he focused on the woman. Should he have her arrested? Probably, but she had a baby, damn it.
The dog plopped his fat butt down between him and his uninvited guests. Logan mentally noted the dog’s position out of habit, but he kept his focus on his target.
“I’m not a liar.” She bit down on her bottom lip while rubbing the whimpering kid’s back. “Lucinda said the owner, Logan, is traveling on business and wouldn’t mind if we stayed a few days.”
Logan jerked at his cousin’s name. Either the woman had done a lot of research or she wasn’t lying after all. “You know Lucinda?”
A glimmer of hope seemed to ease her shoulders as she soothed her baby. “I work for her. I ran into a bit of trouble and needed a place to stay in a hurry.” Her voice cracked and she put one bare foot over the other, drawing in on herself. “Obviously, you’re Logan. We don’t have anywhere else to go. Not tonight.”
Damn it. This had to be one of Luce’s schemes. “What’s your name?”
“Becky Holmes. This is Sophie, my daughter, and this is our dog, Jiggy.”
“Jiggy? Never mind.” What did he care if the oversize rat with pop-up ears had a dumbass name?
“He’s a French bulldog.”
“Honey, that’s not a dog.” Logan jerked his cell from his bag, scrolled his contacts, and hit call.
“I can explain.” Luce fired the words in her I’m so busted tone.
“You’ve got ten seconds.”
“Becky needs a place to stay for a few days. Her trailer isn’t safe, and she has a baby. Her mother just died, and there’s no one else.”
Refusing to let sympathy color his thinking, he remained firm. “We’ll be at your place in twenty.” He’d drop the troublesome trio off and be done.
“I don’t have an extra bedroom. I live in a small condo. It has to be you.”
“Luce—”
“Logan, I need you to do this until I find something else for her.”
He glanced at Becky’s worried brown eyes; the way she bit her lip and curved her body around her kid…he was toast. No way could he throw them out. “Damn it, Luce.” The snarl broke from his throat.
The baby jerked and started to cry in earnest. In mere seconds, she arched her back, balled her fists, and wailed.
“She’s hungry,” Becky said.
“Feed her.” He didn’t see the problem. Just make the kid stop crying. The sound brought out every protective instinct he had. He so didn’t need this.
Becky sank down on the bed, turning away from him and settled the baby to her breast.
The baby latched on, filling the room with sucking sounds.
“Logan?”
He clamped his jaw at Luce’s voice, having forgotten his cousin on the phone. Worse, he was staring at Becky like a pervert. He was a total and complete ass. He’d been thinking she’d give the kid a bottle or…hell he hadn’t thought it out. Turning away to give her privacy like he should have done the second he realized what she meant by feeding the baby, he answered, “What?”
“I think the two of you can help each other. Becky needs a safe place to stay for a while and you need a wife.”
That last word exploded in his brain. Wife? Marry a woman he didn’t even know? Worse, one with a kid? “You’ve been sniffing too much household cleaner and fried your brain.” He didn’t need to turn around to picture the woman sitting on his bed, cradling her daughter to her breast. “I can’t, Luce.”
“Really? Has Uncle Brian accepted your alternative offers? Or is he holding you to the contract, insisting you be married by your birthday in three months?”
Hot rage at his father had him gripping the phone tighter. “You know the answer.”
“Then Becky might be your only chance to secure your land.” She took a breath. “Talk to her, Logan. Find out her story. She needs a temporary hero and you need a short term wife.” Luce hung up.
He was no one’s hero. Frustration clawed at him as he shoved the phone in his bag. Unable to stop himself, he turned.
“I’m sorry.” Becky’s eyes were too big in her pale face. “We’ll leave in the morning, but don’t blame Lucinda. She was only trying to help me.”
Logan was too damned tired for this and it was taking all his concentration to pull his gaze from her. “How are you going to leave? I didn’t see a car.” He scooped up his duffle bag. Since she already had all her stuff in his room, including a bed for the baby, he’d bunk in the guest room.
“I have one. I parked it in the shadows of the stables and walked here. I didn’t want to be found.”
She hid her car. The hairs on his neck went up. Every instinct screamed that this woman was in serious trouble. “What are you running from?”
“My own stupidity, but Sophie isn’t paying for that. I won’t let her.”
And just like that, the lasso wrapped around him and pulled tight. He couldn’t walk away from a woman in trouble. That’s what made him so good at his job at Once a Marine Security Agency.
But this woman? She was breaking his one hard and fast rule—the one that kept him as close to sane as he was going to get—no kids. He didn’t take jobs with kids. But one look into those pleading brown eyes…and his rule vanished.
“You’ll be safe here. I’ll sleep in the other room.”
Chapter Two
Becky stared at the text on her phone, and reminded herself that she couldn’t kill her boss.
Trust me. You and Sophie are safer with Logan than anywhere else. This is for the best, even if Logan doesn’t realize it yet.
She didn’t have much of a choice tonight. Plus, Lucinda had found a lawyer who would see her for a free consultation tomorrow. She really was helping. But Becky still wanted to yell at her. That scene with Logan had scared, embarrassed, and humiliated her. The man didn’t want her in his house. Even worse, she was in the master bedroom. Shame added to the stew of discomfort.
After burping her sleeping daughter, Becky laid her in the second-hand, portable crib next to the massive wood framed bed. The room was a combination of rustic charm with beamed ceilings, warm-toned walls, and a stone fireplace that contrasted with the contemporary feel of huge windows lining one wall. Guilt banded around her lungs. She’d chosen the room because it had a nice area for Sophie’s bed.
She’d not only invaded Logan’s house, but she’d taken his room.
They couldn’t stay in this room. It wasn’t right. She dragged on some shorts; she’d embarrassed herself enough for one night. At the door, she glanced back at Jiggy plopped down on the floor by Sophie’s bed. “Stay.” Then she went into the hallway and closed the door.
At the same second the bathroom door opened, spilling out a billow of steam and a man wearing nothing except a towel loosely wrapped around lean hips. Above that was a rippled abdomen spreading into a muscular chest and shoulders that filled the doorway. On his left bicep he had a tattoo of a horse kneeling before a white cross draped with dog tags.
That tat tugged at her heart. He’d lost someone, and she understood how deep that pain went.
“Oh.” The word squeaked out of her involuntarily. She was tall, nearly five ten, but she had to look up to see his unusual light green eyes that stood out against his darker skin and black hair.
“Need something?”
Even his voice was sexy, pitched low and oh-so-masculine. Really? After a year of her sex drive lying dormant, now her hormones noticed a man?
Stop staring like a moron and say something!
“I took your bedroom.” A flush heated her skin. Where was all her beauty contestant poise and confidence?
He leaned against the doorjamb. “I noticed.”
Was that towel around his waist sliding? A drop of water traveled down, tucking along his oblique muscles, over the jut of his hipbone, and vanishing into the knot of that terrycloth. “I want to give it back. Your room. I had no right to take it. I didn’t know you were coming home, but still, I should have taken one of the other rooms. I’ll just get our things and…” She turned, desperate to escape back into the room.
“Hey, easy there, sugar. You don’t need to move rooms.”
His calm confidence filled the hallway, easing her tension. “You’re sure? Are you leaving again tomorrow or something? Lucinda said you travel for work.” If he was leaving tomorrow, maybe he wouldn’t mind letting her stay a more couple days since he wouldn’t be here.
“I work for Once a Marine Security Agency, but I’ve taken a leave for a few months.”
A leave squashed that idea, but she was intrigued by his job. “Security agency?” She couldn’t help taking another eye-trip over his amazingly powerful body that looked custom-made to shield others. “Like bodyguarding?”
His grin tilted. “At times. We handle all kinds of private security and investigations.”
“That’s why you had the gun?”
Grim lines settled over his face. “Yes, but I don’t make a habit of pulling it on an unarmed woman and her kid. I didn’t know who was in my house or if they had a weapon.”
“That’s a relief. You scared the hell out of me.”
His harsh look faded away. “The room is yours for a night or two.”
Something was different about him from a half hour ago. Aside from his interesting state of undress, he was more relaxed and easygoing. More in command, both of himself and his home. Yeah, that was it.
He lowered his chin. “Lucinda would kill me if I let something happen to you. I’m in the business of security and protection, remember? You’re perfectly safe in my house and on my land.”
She’d bet if any man hurt Lucinda, Logan would protect his cousin. Glancing around, at anything but the powerful man taking up too much space in the hallway, the old and familiar envy reared up. It’d been a long day; she’d feel better if she got a few hours sleep. Forcing a light tone, she said, “Then I guess Sophie and I are safe.” She wished to God that was true. “I’ll make arrangements to leave as quickly as possible. Thank you for letting us stay here.” She spun and reached for the doorknob.
“Becky.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not good with kids. At all.”
There it was again, that tension. It shadowed his eyes and added weight to his shoulders.
What did that mean exactly? But now wasn’t the time to interrogate him. “I’ll try to keep her quiet and out of your way.”
…
Becky rubbed her clammy hands on her black slacks. She felt out of place sitting in this plush law office.
That was an all too familiar feeling after that scene with Logan last night. Once she finished here, she had to find a place for her and Sophie to stay. She couldn’t impose on Logan; he didn’t want them there. Yet once he’d realized she was telling the truth, he’d been kind, going out of his way to reassure her that she and her baby were safe with him. While wearing nothing except that towel and some really sexy water droplets.
The sound of rustling papers dragged her attention from her thoughts.
Felicia Redding’s blue eyes were battle-hardened, but not unkind, as she finished reading over the forms Becky had filled out.
“For Mr. Ridgemont to file for custody of Sophie he will first have to establish that he’s the father. In Texas, when a baby is born to an unmarried couple, the law does not automatically recognize the biological father as a legal parent. Have you signed an Acknowledgement of Paternity naming Dylan Ridgemont as the baby’s father since her birth?”
“No. Dylan was in prison when she was born. That’s good, right?”
Felicia tapped her index finger on the polished surface of her desk. “It’ll slow the process down while they get a court order for a paternity test. But until they have that, Mr. Ridgemont will have zero rights in regards to the child.”
That gave her a little time. “Then he can file for custody?”
“Yes. Or he could file for visitation, but he’d be required to pay child support.”
In that moment, she hated herself for saddling Sophie with Dylan as a father. She hadn’t intended to get pregnant, but the end result was the same—Dylan was Sophie’s father. Her daughter would pay a terrible price if she didn’t find a way to keep her out of Dylan’s hands. “I don’t want support. I just want Sophie to grow up safe and happy.”
Felicia folded her hands on her desk. “You don’t think she’d be safe with Mr. Ridgemont?”
“No, unless he handed her over to nannies or his parents or something. But that’s not right. I’m Sophie’s mom. Dylan attacked me when I was pregnant and put me in the hospital. Won’t that be enough to keep him from getting custody?”
“It’ll help, but the short answer is no.” She leaned on her forearms. “Ms. Holmes, you need to grasp the reality here. Custody cases that go to court can be very expensive. I charge three hundred an hour for these cases. If Mr. Ridgemont brings the force of his family’s legal counsel onto this case, it will be costly. We’ll be buried in paperwork, and that will require countless hours of my paralegals’ time as well as mine. I’d need a five thousand dollar retainer.”
Desperation clogged her throat. She didn’t have the money. Could she borrow against her trailer until she sold it? Glancing at her daughter sleeping in her car seat, determination rocketed through her. “I have a little time since he has to prove paternity. What about a restraining order for now?”
The lawyer picked up a pen and wrote something on a Post-it note. “Go to this website and download the protective order kit. You can do this yourself and save money. If you have any questions, call me and I’ll walk you through it.”
Grateful for the woman’s help, she took the paper. “Thank you.”
“Ms. Holmes, if Mr. Ridgemont wasn’t one of Texas’s richest families, I would direct you to some low income resources and you’d probably retain full physical custody of your daughter.”
She went rigid from her jaw to her shoulders. “But?”
“If he makes a move to establish paternity, then he’s in the process of going for custody. There’s no benefit to him otherwise as he’ll open himself up to pay child support.”
That made sense.
“So if that happens, do whatever you have to in order to retain good counsel. It’ll be an ugly fight. They have the money to do anything they need to, including having private investigators watching you.”
Oh God. She had to find a way to get that money.
By the time she pulled up to Logan’s house, exhaustion throbbed in her head and Sophie fussed incessantly. Taking the baby out of the car, she headed inside, grateful for the cool interior of the house.
Jiggy streaked out the door and down the steps, heading straight for the nearest tree. Becky set Sophie down in her carrier, trekked back out to the car to gather up the sewing she hoped to finish before work tonight, and called Jiggy. Once back inside, she changed Sophie and settled on the couch to feed her while researching the website the lawyer had given her. As the protective order forms downloaded, she wondered if she could get it filed and approved. Would a restraining order stop Dylan? Or would she just be provoking him into action? She was torn. What would keep them safe from Dylan?
Her boss thought Logan could.
Trust me. You and Sophie are safer with Logan than anywhere else.
He certainly looked capable enough even without the gun. The man exuded power, confidence, and an innate kindness that touched her. Becky had to admit, she had totally blindsided him by being in his house, yet he’d never once threatened her physical harm, let alone hurt her. And he’d looked pretty hot wearing that towel… She shook her head, getting off that train of thought.
The important thing was to stay safe while she figured out how to deal with Dylan. Her options were dwindling. Could she and Logan work out some trade for her and Sophie to stay there while she waited for the loan on the trailer to come through?
…
Logan had spent the day working on his land and thinking about Luce’s suggestion—a temporary wife. He returned home, showered, and dressed, still turning it over in his mind.
His father had turned down every alternative, including Logan’s offer to outright buy the land. Logan was screwed—he needed his land and home, but he couldn’t have a wife who would depend on him and want children.
Children. Those dead girls, that baby…not going there. Kids were a trigger he avoided.
But a temporary wife? Becky was already here, and she appeared to be in trouble. These were special circumstances: either he married or he lost the land that meant everything to him. So if he had to deal with a baby for a few months…
His father had left him little choice. This strip of land was supposed to be his free and clear on his eighteenth birthday. But his old man was a manipulative bastard, determined to retain control over his son, and used the land to do it by adding a stipulation that Logan had to marry and live on the land by his thirtieth birthday or the land would revert to Brian Knight.
A temporary marriage meant he’d not only get what he wanted, but ultimately beat his father at his own game. And he could help out Becky while doing it. It was clear she was in some kind of trouble.
Luce’s idea was gaining appeal. Logan headed out to the kitchen, determined to talk to Becky. Get to know her a little bit and see if his cousin was on to something.
Half way to the kitchen, a soft noise drew his attention to the floor. Baby Sophie lay on her tummy face-to-face with Jiggy. She arched her chest up and reached her tiny hand toward the dog’s face.
Unease crept in at the sight of the baby. That was the complication. If it was just the woman, sure he could probably do it. But a baby? Such a fragile little person, anything could happen to her. He didn’t want to be responsible for her safety.
The dog licked Sophie’s waving fist. The baby gurgled and grinned, revealing toothless gums.
“Jiggy, not her hands or face.” Becky stood at the island facing his open dining room and living room.
Pulling his attention from the baby relaxed some of his uneasiness. Becky had a black T-shirt on that set off her light hair and hugged her breasts. Temptation fisted in his belly, the same temptation that kept him awake thinking about the gorgeous woman in his bed. By morning, he’d convinced himself he’d exaggerated her beauty.
Wrong.
Even fully clothed, she was sizzling hot.
Stop staring, you moron. Dude, she stared back when you came out of the shower.
He ignored that voice of lust screaming in his brain. Going into the kitchen, he surveyed the half loaf of bread, jar of peanut butter, and small bunch withering grapes.
She lifted her gaze. “Hi.”
It came out breathy, and her eyes warmed as her skin took on a dusky glow. Definitely not just him feeling this attraction. It took all his control not to look down and see if her nipples had pebbled, because if he looked…yeah, eyes on her face. “Hi, making a snack?”
“Dinner.” She returned to her task. “We’ll be out of your way in a few minutes. Well Sophie and I will. Is it okay if Jiggy stays here? I’ll be back around midnight. I’ve fed him, he won’t be any trouble.”
Was it him making her nervous, or the charged air between them? “Sure, the dog can stay with me. Where are you going?”
“Work, but Sophie goes with me.”
Right, she worked for Lucinda’s cleaning company. Giving her some space, he went to the fridge, pulled out a cold bottle of beer then leaned against the counter. She took the baby with her to clean? Was that wise? Not his problem. What he needed to think about was firing up the grill and getting some dinner going. “Is that what you’re eating for dinner?”
“Yes.” Her shoulders stiffened as she dropped a couple slices of bread on a plate and picked up a knife. “I brought it with me.”
Her defensiveness surprised him. Logan crossed the room and lifted the jar. “What is this stuff?” He didn’t even recognize the label. Must be an off-brand.
Becky tilted her chin up. “It’s chunky. May I have it back please?”
“Don’t you have to eat more than this?” She was feeding a kid.
She dropped her gaze. “Peanut butter works.” Her stomach growled.
He’d made her uncomfortable when she was just trying to eat. Handing her the jar back, he lightened his tone. “Sure it does. I like peanut butter, but tonight I’m in the mood for steak. I’m going to fire up the grill and throw some on. Would you like to join me?”
She shook her head, her attention on her task. “Thanks for asking, but I need to get to work. This is faster and it’s fine.”
Logan caught himself inhaling her scent, reigniting his lust. His hands itched to touch her hair, see if it was as silky as it looked, and her skin as soft.
Whoa cowboy.
He reigned in the flash of desire. He was trying to get to know her and see if Lucinda’s idea had merit, not take her to his bed. Would this attraction be a problem? Or something they could both enjoy? Logan took a long swallow of beer, determined not to let desire cloud his judgment.
Becky’s scent faded as she went around the island, perched on a barstool, and took a bite of her sandwich.
He lowered his beer bottle. His lust took a backseat to the thought of her going hungry, or at least not eating enough. “Do you want jelly? I’m sure I have some.” Cleaning was hard work. She needed more than peanut butter on crappy bread.
She shook her head.
Unable to stand it, Logan went to the fridge, got out the milk, and poured her a glass. “At least drink this.”
Becky lifted her gaze, her eyes warring between suspicion and gratefulness. That expression twisted something in his stomach. It was that flicker of naked vulnerability backed up with steel determination. He pushed the glass toward her. “It’s just milk. Drink it.”
“I meant to buy some.”
He put the carton away. “I can’t drink all this. It’d be a waste for you to buy more.”
“Still, I’ll replace it when I leave.” She set down her sandwich. “You left early this morning.”
“Working on my land.”
“Yeah? You mean the whole ranch? Or a part that’s just yours?” She glanced out the slider. “This place looked huge when I drove in last night.”
“I have roughly ten acres.” That he was going to find a way to keep. “But the entire ranch is well over a hundred thousand acres.”
Becky’s hand holding her sandwich fell to the counter. “Wow, that’s…wow. What do you do with all that land?”
“We breed and train horses, mostly Quarter for rodeo and to work. We’re known for our horses and top-notch training. We have beef cattle, too. It’s a huge operation with a massive staff, there’s a lot of buildings and equipment to maintain.”
“I can barely maintain my car.” Remembering her sandwich, she took a bite.
Logan laughed. “Yeah, it’s overwhelming.” There was an entire management team that, if his dad had his way, would one day be reporting to Logan. He didn’t want that, never had.
Her eyes sparkled. “What’s your favorite part?”
Easy answer. “Rehabilitating horses, especially abused or neglected ones, or horses that have been subjected to poor training techniques.” There was nothing like getting a horse to trust him.
“Is that what you’re doing while on leave from your job? Working with horses?”
“I’m going to turn this piece of land into Camp Warrior Recovery for veterans struggling with PTSD. Horses will be a part of the program.”
Her eyes shimmered with interest. “Like a retreat or therapy?”
“Both.” Involuntarily, his gaze went to the baby playing with the dog. Such a simple scene, one that should make him smile. Instead, he worried it would trigger his claustrophobia, and the need to get out of the house and away from the kid. Right now, he was level, able to control his anxiety.
Not wanting to get into that with Becky, he shifted the subject. “I’ll be pitching in on the ranch, too.” He didn’t mind helping, but he wasn’t stepping into his dad’s shoes. Not only did he not want it, but rightfully that job should go to Abby, his half-sister. She lived and breathed the ranch, loved it with the passion that running a ranch like this required. But their old-fashioned, sexist father didn’t agree. He demanded that his one and only son take over. Becky’s voice rescued him from his thoughts.
“That brings me to something I was hoping to talk to you about. Can we work something out so Sophie, Jiggy, and I can stay a week or two? I’m working on getting a loan and a restraining order—”
“Hold up.” Logan set down his beer. How much trouble was she in? His sense of self-preservation screamed, Be smart, don’t get involved. His protective instincts, however, kicked the shit out of his self-preservation. “Tell me about this restraining order. Against whom and for what?”
She glanced over at her baby making noise and drooling all over one of Jiggy’s paws.
“My ex-boyfriend.”
Logan returned his attention to Becky. “He’s your baby’s father?” So she hadn’t been married. He didn’t like the guy already.
“Yes. The short version is that we dated in college. When I realized I was pregnant, I told him while we were in his truck.” She looked down at the remainder of her sandwich.
He knew he wasn’t going to like this story and he steeled himself. “He didn’t take it well?”
“No. He was furious.” She took a deep breath, lifted her eyes. “That part’s not important.”
Oh, he thought it was, but he held his silence.
“He was yelling at me, not watching where he was going.” She turned to gaze out the sliding glass door. “He hit a man. I can still remember the awful sound.”
That…damn. Logan hadn’t seen that coming. He needed to know what he was dealing with. “What happened?”
“He drove away, leaving the bleeding man lying on the road.” She stared down at her fisted hand. “I turned Dylan in. He took a plea deal and was supposed to get a few years. But he’s out already. He cornered me in the parking lot of a grocery store, threatened to finish the job with me. He knew details about my life, like which office I clean on any given night, that my mom died, even that Jiggy pees on the for sale sign in front of my trailer.”
The words were pouring out in huge waves, drowning him in a sea of information. He tried to hone in on one problem at a time. “What did he mean by finish the job with you?”
“When I called 911 to report that we’d hit that man…he was mad.”
“He attacked you?” Okay, now he was pissed. Logan went to the sink and dumped out the last half of his beer. Mixing alcohol with his rage would shatter his hard-won control. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of water.
“Dylan wanted me to confess to driving the truck, and get him off the hook.”
He filed that name and went on. “You didn’t change your story?”
“No.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go to work, but I’m afraid of him and his lawyers. His family is very rich and he said he was filing for custody of Sophie. I’m scared to stay in my trailer right now. I’m hoping you and I can work something out for a week or two.”
“Like what?”
“I can clean the house and do your laundry. I’m good at sewing if you need any of your clothes repaired.”
Ah, she wanted to do a trade. He could see why his cousin liked Becky. The girl had some pride. “You don’t have to do that.” If she was in trouble, he wasn’t going to make her work for a place to stay.
Her hand tightened around the glass of milk. “I want to. I can cook, too. I’m not great, but I can make a few things.”
When he shut the fridge and turned, additional tension had compressed her pretty mouth. “It’s that important to you?” Or was she still upset rehashing her troubles?
“Yes.”
No hesitation or coyness; she really did want to earn her way. “Why?” When Logan was in Dallas, most people recognized him as one of the Knights from the Knight Ranch. Somehow, he always ended up picking up checks. The exception to that were his Marine buddies, Sienna, and now Becky.
She picked a grape off the stem. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I know Lucinda put you in a bad position, and you obviously aren’t the kind of man to throw a woman and baby out.”
This might work out in his favor. It would give him time to get to know Becky. Maybe they would work out an even bigger deal.
The temporary marriage kind of deal.
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