Wyoming Cowboy Protection

“I don’t care, but I’ll cook my own meals and clean up after myself on Sundays. Understood?”

She nodded. “What’s rule number two?”

Timid. He did not know what to do with timid, but he was being forced. Well, maybe he needed to treat her like a skittish horse. Horse training wasn’t his expertise, but he understood enough about the animals to know they needed a clear leader, routine and the opportunity to build their confidence.

Noah glanced at the hopeful young woman and tried not to grimace.

“I have a checklist,” she blurted.

“A checklist?”

“Yes, of duties. Of things I do for people. When I’m housekeeping. I... You...”

The sinking feeling that had been plaguing him since Grady announced his and Laurel’s little plan that morning sank deeper. “You haven’t done this before, have you?”

“Oh.” She looked everywhere around the room except him. “Um. Well. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I...I can cook, and clean. I just haven’t ever been on a ranch, or lived in someone else’s house as their employee. So that’s, um, well, it’s super weird.” She glanced at the kid in her arms. “And I have a baby. Which is weird.”

“Super weird,” he intoned.

She blinked up at him, some of that anxiety softening in her features. “If you tell me what you want me to do, I promise I can do it. I’m just not sure what you expect. Or want.”

“I’ll make you up a checklist.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I’m sorry, was that a joke? I can’t exactly tell.”

Noah’s mouth twitched of its own accord. “Settle in. Get the baby settled in. Tomorrow morning, six a.m., kitchen table. We’ll discuss your duties then.”

“Okay.”

He turned to go, but she stopped him with a hesitant “um.”

He looked over his shoulder at her.

“It’s just, could you give us something of a tour? A map? Smoke signals to the bathroom?”

Noah was very bad at controlling his facial features, half of why he kept a beard, so the distaste must have been clear all over his face.

“I’m sorry, I make jokes when I’m nervous.”

“Funny, I just shut up.”

Those big blue eyes blinked at him, not quite in horror, but not necessarily in understanding, either.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “That was a joke. I joke when I’m nervous, too.”

“Really?”

“No. Never,” he replied, chastising himself for being prickly, and then ignoring his own chastisement. “Follow me. I’ll show you around.”

Chapter Two (#uc35f7e3b-0925-5a2a-81c6-0aab782a6dc3)

September

Addie liked to use Seth’s afternoon nap for laundry folding and listening to an audiobook, then dinner prep. She’d been at the Carson Ranch for a full month now, and while she couldn’t claim comfort or the belief she was truly safe and settled, she’d developed a routine, and that was nice.

She found she liked housekeeping, much to her surprise. As an administrative assistant in the family business—a franchise of furniture stores Grandpa had moved to Boston to run when his father-in-law had died suddenly back in the fifties—she’d hated waiting on people, keeping things and meetings organized. She’d taken the job because it had been expected of her, and she hadn’t known what else to do with her life.

So, the fact keeping everything neat and organized at Noah’s house, making meals and helping the ranch run smoothly felt good was a surprise. Maybe it was the six months of being on the run and not having a house or anything to care for except Seth’s safety.

Maybe it was simply that she felt, if not safe here, like she fit here.

Addie worked on chopping vegetables for a salad, the baby monitor she’d bought with her first overly generous paycheck sitting on the sill of the window overlooking the vast Carson Ranch. She hadn’t needed a monitor in any of the previous places she’d been. They were all hotel rooms or little one-room apartments where she could hear Seth no matter where she went.

Now she had a whole house to roam, and so did Seth. They had these beautiful views to take in. For as long as it lasted, this life was good.

Some little voice in the back of her head warned her not to get too attached or settle in too deeply. Peter could always find her here, although it was unlikely. She hadn’t shared anything with her father since he’d cut off Kelly long before Seth, and she’d been on shaky ground for not cutting Kelly off as well.

As for the rest of her friends and family, she’d sent a cheery email to them saying she’d gotten an amazing job teaching English in China and she’d send them contact information when she was settled.

If anyone had been suspicious, she’d been long gone before she could see evidence of it.

Addie didn’t miss Boston or her cold father or even the furniture store that was supposed to be her legacy. That was also a surprise. Boston and her family had always been home, though not exactly a warm one after Mom had died when Addie’d been a kid. Still, striking out and starting over as a faux single mom had been surprisingly fulfilling. If she discounted the terror and constant running.

But she wasn’t running right now. More and more, she was thinking of the Carson Ranch as home.

“You are a hopeless idiot, Addie Foster,” she muttered to herself.

She startled as the door swung open, the knife she’d been using clattering to the cutting board from nerveless fingers.

But it was only Noah who swept in, looking as he always did, like some mythical man from a Wild West time machine. Dirty old cowboy hat, scuffed and beaten-up cowboy boots. The jeans and heavy coat were modern enough, but Noah’s beard wasn’t like all the fashionable hipster ones she was used to. No, Noah’s beard was something of an old-fashioned shield.

She found herself pondering a little too deeply what he might be shielding himself from. Snapping herself out of that wonder, she picked up the knife. “You’re early,” she offered, trying to sound cheerful. “Dinner isn’t ready yet.”

It was another thing she’d surprisingly settled into with ease. They all three ate dinner together. Noah wasn’t exactly a talkative guy, but he listened. Sometimes he even entertained Seth while she cleaned up dinner.

He grunted, as he was so often wont to do, and slid his coat and hat off before hanging them on the pegs. She watched it all through her peripheral vision, forcing herself not to linger on the outline of his muscles in the thermal shirt he wore.

Yes, Noah had muscles, and they were not for her to ogle. Though she did on occasion. She was human, after all.

“Just need to call the vet,” he said.

“Is something wrong?”

“Horses aren’t right. Will there be enough for dinner if Ty comes over?”