Saviour in the Saddle

He was good at that.

But he’d been in the room with Willa for less than fifteen minutes, and he was already having doubts about this plan. She deserved the truth.

The whole truth about why he was there.

“Tell me who you are,” she insisted. “Not just your name. I want to know who you really are.”

Brandon nodded and gathered his thoughts. “My full name is Brandon Michael Ruiz. Like you, I was born in San Antonio. I’m thirty-six. Never been married. I spent some time in the army before I came back to Texas and made it my home again.”

She motioned for him to continue.

“I’ve been sheriff of Crockett Creek for eight years.”

“And your bloodline? “

“My dad was—is,” he corrected, “Comanche. My mother was part Irish, part Italian, part German. Guess that makes me a real American, huh? “

Willa ignored his attempt to lighten up the conversation. “How did we meet?”

Thankfully, he didn’t have to pause to collect his thoughts. “At a restaurant on the Riverwalk in San Antonio. The place was crowded, and we shared a table.”

She stared at him again. “I think you’re probably lying about that. I don’t know why.” She waved him off before he could try to convince her otherwise. “It doesn’t matter. It’s obvious you don’t want to be here so that means the lieutenant brought you to convince me to do something.”

Well, he hadn’t expected her to give him that kind of opening.

“But first, you’re supposed to regain my trust,” she continued. “And SAPD’s theory is the reason I’ll trust you again is that we have a child in common.” She moved closer to the edge of the sofa. “But you and I both know how things really are, don’t we, Brandon?”

Yeah, he thought, maybe they did, so Brandon stuck with the truth. “I gave up the idea of being a father not long after I got out of the military. Let’s just say I didn’t think my gene pool was worth passing along to an innocent baby.”

She made a sound to indicate she was thinking about that. And he could see the doubt creep back into her eyes. “That probably has something to do with the was versus the is when you described your father’s bloodline, but I don’t believe you want to share that secret with me so I won’t push.”

Surprised, Brandon angled his head to the side and studied her. “Have you been taking deception-training classes since you’ve been in hiding?”

The corner of her mouth lifted, but the smile didn’t make it to her eyes. “When I couldn’t remember anything for more than ten minutes, I started relying on other things. Eye contact. Facial signals. My gut instincts,” she added in a mumble.

Brandon tried his hand at it. “The way you said the last part—my gut instincts—does that mean you don’t like what your gut instincts are telling you about me? “

Her glare returned. “Stand up,” she said abruptly. “Excuse me?”

“Stand up. Please.” That last word was clearly an afterthought.

Brandon did stand, all the while wondering where this would lead. And Willa stood up as well. She went to him, hesitating just a second, before she reached up and caught on to the back of his neck. She pulled him down and touched her mouth to his.

It was a peck, hardly qualifying as a kiss, but it lit a very bad fire inside him that shouldn’t be lit. A fire below the belt.

She pulled back and drew her tongue over her bottom lip. Yet something to stoke that blaze that he had to put out.

“Yes,” she said, “I think I remember kissing you.” Willa shook her head, stared up at him.

Brandon decided to do something to convince her to reconsider that I think part. His hand went to her back, and he hauled her to him.

And he kissed her.

Yeah, it was probably stupid, but he didn’t keep it a peck or at some wimp level to be merely a test. No. He wanted this to be a kiss she’d remember. So, he pressed his lips against hers, moving over her mouth. Taking in her taste, along with that incredible scent. He got an even better sample of her when his tongue touched hers.

She jerked away from him and stepped back. Way back. Her breath was gusting now. Brandon realized his was, too. And she propped her hands on her hips and stared at him.

“I’m attracted to you,” she said in the same tone as if confessing to premeditated murder.

The woman certainly knew how to keep him on his toes. “I’m attracted to you,” he echoed.

Her stare turned to another glare. “I hate that I just told you that because it gives you leverage over me. But don’t be fooled.” Willa walked to the foyer table and grabbed her PDA. “I will never put anything I feel for you over the safety of my baby. That means I’m not going to let you talk me into doing anything I could regret.”

Oh, man. Since they kept going back to that, Brandon figured it was time to move on to step two.

At least step two didn’t involve kissing her.

“The baby is my priority, too,” he clarified. “Yeah, I know. I said I’d dismissed fatherhood, but now that I know a baby’s on the way—”

“It’s a girl,” Willa interrupted. “I’m having a daughter.”

It took everything inside him not to react. He nodded. “A daughter,” he repeated.

Brandon eased that information aside and got back to work.

Yes, he still wanted to protect Willa. He was sorry for what she’d been through. But the groundwork had been laid. She’d bought the story, and it was time to move on. However, before he could do that, Willa lifted the PDA and a second later, there was a small burst of light.

She took his picture.

She typed in something. Paused. And added something else. Notes about him no doubt.

Don’t Trust Brandon Ruiz maybe.

Well, she would have to learn to trust him. At least temporarily.

“You’re going to have to leave this place and come with me,” he told her. Willa started to object, but Brandon talked right over her. “You don’t have a choice. The baby’s safety is at stake, and I won’t let you endanger my child.”

There. That was the gauntlet.

“Your child?” she said, mocking him.

“Oh, no, we’re not going back to that part about my ambivalence toward fatherhood. We’ll do what’s best for this baby. And what’s best is for you not to be here.”

Willa didn’t say a word, not even to demand more information. She was no doubt trying to figure out how she could escape. That attempt would probably come when she tried to excuse herself to go to the bathroom. Or to get something from the kitchen.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

“We’ve received an intelligence report that there’s going to be another hostage situation,” Brandon stated as clearly as he could.