Snowbound with the Bodyguard & The Cowboy's Secret Twins: Snowbound with the Bodyguard / The Cowboy's Secret Twins

Nana answered on the second ring and Janette pressed the phone to her ear as if to get closer to her grandmother. “Nana, it’s me.”

“Janette, honey, where are you?” Nana asked. “Did you get off before this storm?”

“No, I’m still in Cotter Creek.”

“At the motel?” Nana asked.

“The motel was already full by the time I found out the bus wasn’t coming. The snow was coming down and I didn’t know what to do, but then I saw a light on in the West Protective Services office.” Janette twisted the phone cord around her little finger. “I hired Dalton West to be my bodyguard and he brought me to his apartment for the night.”

“Are you safe there?” Nana asked, her voice filled with concern.

Janette considered the question. “Yes, I think I’m safe,” she finally replied. It was odd, but having survived the night she did feel safe.

“I’ve heard about those Wests,” Nana said. “Supposed to be good solid men. I’m just grateful that you and that precious little boy are away from here and not out in this storm someplace.”

Janette glanced toward the window and frowned. “It looks like I’m going to be stuck here for a while.” She twisted the phone cord more tightly around her finger. “Has anyone been by to ask about me?”

“Nobody, honey. The storm moved in and nobody is going anywhere at the moment. Don’t you worry none. He’ll never know from me where you went and by the time he makes his way here to ask questions you’ll be far out of his reach.”

“Let me give you the phone number here, just in case you need to reach me.” Janette read the number off the piece of paper Dalton had given her the night before. “I’ll call you when I’m about to board the bus. Maybe they’ll get the streets cleared by tomorrow.”

“You just take care of yourself and Sammy. Don’t worry about things here. I got my friends at the trailer park to take care of me and I’ll be fine as long as I know you’re fine.”

Janette unraveled the cord from her finger. How she wished she could crawl through the phone line and feel her grandmother’s loving arms around her, to go back to a time when she didn’t know about fear, about evil.

Afraid that she might cry if she remained on the phone much longer, she quickly said goodbye then hung up. Checking to make sure that Sammy was still sleeping soundly, she arranged the bed pillows on either side of him then walked to the bedroom door.

She hesitated before turning the knob to step out of the room. She’d told Nana she was safe, and at the moment she felt fairly safe, but she’d also been unaware of any danger on the night Sheriff Sinclair had pulled her over on the side of the road.

As much as she’d love to stay holed up in the bedroom until the bus pulled in, that was impossible. She hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before and her stomach was protesting its neglect in loud angry growls.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted her as she opened the bedroom door, letting her know she was no longer alone in the apartment.

Energy surged through her as all her senses went on high alert. Her feet whispered against the living-room rug as she moved toward the kitchen.

She hesitated in the doorway. Dalton stood at the stove with his back to her. A white, long-sleeved jersey clung across his broad shoulders and worn jeans hugged the length of his legs. He was barefoot and his hair was rumpled like he’d just crawled out of bed.

A sizzling noise was quickly followed by a whiff of bacon and Janette felt the nerves in her stomach calm. It was hard to be frightened of a barefoot man frying bacon.

She must have made some sort of sound for he whirled around to look at her. “Good morning,” he said. “There’s coffee in the pot if you’re interested.”

“I’m interested,” she replied.

He gestured to the coffeemaker on the counter. “Cups are in the cabinet above.”

She walked over to the cabinet, retrieved a cup, then poured herself some coffee. She carried it to the table and sat, unsure what else to do.

Dalton turned back around to flip the bacon. Janette was aware of a tension in the air, the tension of two strangers sharing space.

“It looks like you’re going to be stuck here for at least another day or two,” he said.

“Maybe I could find another place to go to,” she offered.

Once again he turned around to face her. “It would take me half the day to shovel enough snow just to open the outside door. Trust me, nobody is going anywhere today.” A muscle in his jaw tensed, letting her know that he wasn’t particularly happy about the unforeseen circumstances.

“I’m sorry about all this,” she said. He’d never know just how sorry she was that she was stuck here in Cotter Creek.

“We’ll just have to deal with it,” he replied, then turned his back on her once again.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she had a vision of Brandon Sinclair tunneling his way through the snow to find her. She mentally shook the thought out of her head.

Once again she stared at Dalton’s back. He was a fine-looking man and so far he’d been nothing but honorable. He made a living protecting people. Maybe she could tell him. Maybe she could tell him the truth. The thought of telling somebody and having them believe her was wonderful.

“How about an omelet?” he asked. “I’m making myself one and can split it with you.”

She felt bad, that this man was not only having to share his personal space but also his food. Still, she was starving and it seemed silly to refuse. “That sounds good,” she agreed.

Once again she sipped her coffee, watching as he prepared the ingredients for the omelet. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

“No thanks, I’m used to doing things my way,” he replied.

“Tell me about this business of yours. I read an article not too long ago about West Protective Services. If I remember correctly it’s a family business, right?”

He nodded. His tousled hair made him appear less daunting than he had the night before. “It was started by my father, Red West. Eventually all of us started working for the business.”

“All of you?”

“I’ve got four brothers and a sister. Joshua is the youngest and he just got married to Savannah, who owns the local newspaper. Then there’s Clay, who met his wife when he was on assignment in California. They have a little girl, Gracie. There’s Tanner, the oldest. He and his wife, Anna, just had a baby.”

Janette felt herself relaxing as he talked. Not only did he have a nice, deep voice that was soothing, but it was obvious from the affection in his voice as he spoke that the West family was a close one. It was easier to trust a man who loved his family.

“Then there’s Meredith. She recently moved to Kansas City with her fiancé, Chase. She and Chase are planning on coming back here in March to get married. Finally there’s Zack. He doesn’t work for the family business anymore. He married Katie, the woman who lived next door to our family, and he’s the sheriff of Cotter Creek.”

Any hope she might have entertained of being truthful with Dalton West crashed and burned. He’s the sheriff of Cotter Creek. The words echoed inside her head.

There were only thirty miles between Cotter Creek and Sandstone. There was no reason for her not to believe that Brandon Sinclair and Zack West were not only acquaintances but also perhaps friends. She had no idea how far-reaching the good-old-boy network was in the state of Oklahoma.

One thing was clear. For as long as she was stuck in this apartment, she couldn’t tell Dalton the truth. Her very life and the life of her son might depend on her keeping her secrets.

At that moment, as if he’d awakened and sensed his mother’s despair, Sammy began to cry from the bedroom.

* * *

Dalton drew a deep breath as “Jane” hurriedly left the kitchen to get her son. He was exhausted, having spent the night on George’s tiny sofa after hours of listening to George talk. And the old man could definitely talk.

He’d already been feeling a little irritable when he’d climbed the inside staircase back to his apartment. As if spending an evening with George hadn’t been enough, he was now stuck in his apartment with a stranger, a woman whom, he had to admit, stirred something inside him just by being there. A woman who’d had a knife in her hand the night before.

Could he really blame her for wielding a knife? After all, as much as she was a stranger to him, he was a stranger to her. She’d had no idea what kind of a man he was, what she’d been walking into when she’d entered his apartment.