Her Rocky Mountain Protector

“About a half mile from here,” he offered. “You’ll at least be close by, and if Scout leads the boy out, he’ll bring him to the cabin.”

She looked back at Reed. “Go, Gina,” he told her. “You’re chilled to the bone. I’ll be back at first light.”

It had been a long time since she’d trusted a man, outside of her new brother-in-law, Jace, and a few of the townspeople. It looked like she didn’t have much of a choice.

“Thank you, Grady,” Gina said. “I promise I won’t be a problem.”

Grady knew that wasn’t true. Gina Williams had already caused him the kind of trouble he didn’t need right now. “I know. And you’ll at least dry off and get some food in you.”

The sheriff stopped Grady. “I’ll be back at dawn.” He handed him his card. “If anything happens before then call my cell phone.”

Then the men loaded into the vehicles and drove down the road.

“Come on, let’s get you warmed up.” Grady helped Gina into the truck, then turned on the heater, trying to stop her shivering. The temperature had already dropped with the fading daylight, and with the combination of the rain, it was damn cold. He, too, was worried about the boy, praying he had found cover.

He drove along the bumpy road that led to the old log cabin that he’d called home for the past three months. In the dim light, the place didn’t look much better than when he’d officially moved in a few months ago, knowing his grandfather needed a lot of help for his recovery.

After parking the truck, he got out to help his guest, but she’d already jumped down by the time he reached her. He climbed the steps to the porch that sorely needed to be replaced. It was one of the many things on his list. He would get to that in time. But it meant he wasn’t exactly ready to have guests.

He unlocked the door and swung it open and allowed Gina to step inside. He followed and quickly went to the back room and switched on the compressor, then returned and turned on the table lamp.

“Oh, my,” she said. “It really is rustic.”

He glanced at her. “There’s a generator for the refrigerator and lights, but wait until you need to use the facilities. They’re still out back.”

She shrugged. “Then maybe I should head there now.”

With a nod, he showed her the little house toward the back of the cabin. He waited on the porch as the last of day turned into night. It only took a few minutes before she came hurrying back to the cabin.

Inside again he watched her examine her surroundings in the main room. A huge stone fireplace and rough log walls were as far as the rustic charm went. It got worse with the old sofas and two chairs that were covered in a faded fabric. A big scarred table took up most of the kitchen area. He’d like to get rid of a lot of it.

Old Fletch had had the entire space crowded with furniture. His grandfather never threw out anything. Thank goodness he hadn’t inherited that trait from the old man. Since he’d heard about his grandfather’s accident, he’d been doing double duty. Once he’d arrived here from Texas, he’d been going to the nursing home to oversee Fletch’s recovery from his broken hip. He’d also been trying to clean up this place by hauling things off to the dump.

He handed her a blanket and lit the logs in the fireplace. “It’ll be warm soon.”

“I’m fine, really,” she said, unable to stop her shivering. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you letting me stay here. I just need to be close by.”

“I understand.” He went into the kitchen area. “I’m going to reheat some stew I made last night.”

“Please don’t feel you have to wait on me.” She stood by the fire. “I’ll probably just sit right here.”

“I’m going to eat, so you might as well.”

She nodded. “Okay, what can I do to help?”

He nodded toward the cupboard as she came into the kitchen area. “The bowls and spoons are in there.”

Gina did as he asked. She was surprised at the cabin, especially the array of furniture crammed inside. The cabinet that held the dishes was an antique. “You have a lot of … things.”

“It all belongs to my grandfather. He’s been in a nursing home. I’ve been trying to clear out most of this stuff since I came here a few months ago.”

She looked at him. “Are you selling the furniture? I might know of someone who’s interested.”

“In this junk?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Your grandfather has some nice pieces. This cabinet is probably an antique. It’s a Hoosier.” She glanced over the scarred wood. “It might need work, but it’s worth some money.”

He turned up the flame on the camp stove and set the pan on top. “Really?”

Gina once again saw on his neck the long burn scar that ran past his collar. She didn’t want to stare, but it was hard not to. “You said Scout was injured by a bomb. Were you with him?”

He stopped, but didn’t answer for a while. Then he looked at her with those dark brooding eyes. “Are you asking if that’s where I got my scar?”

She nodded.

“Yeah. It’s not pretty, but I was one of the lucky ones.”

Grady tried not to think about that day, or the two men he’d lost.

“I’m sorry. It must have been horrible.”

“Yeah, war usually is.”

Grady thought back to the two young soldiers, Jimmy and Vince. After he’d been well enough to leave the hospital, Grady had made a trip to West Virginia to visit Jimmy Prescott’s family, then he’d gone on to Georgia to see Vince Johnson’s kin.

Gina drew his attention back to the present. “What about you?” she asked. “Do you have any family?”

He didn’t like where this was headed. “You sure are full of questions.”

She shrugged. “Seems you know everything about me and my sordid past.”

He frowned. “It’s not sordid. You did nothing wrong. The man beat you. There’s nothing lower than that. You did the right thing by sending him to jail.”

“Not as soon as I should have,” she admitted. “I had the misconception that I could love Eric enough to make him stop.” She raised her chin. “He just didn’t love me enough to want to. Now, my son is paying for it.”

He stopped himself from going to her. She didn’t need the kind of comfort he was willing to give. “Hey, we all have regrets,” he told her. Hell, he had a boatload of them. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.” Removing the pan from the stove, he carried it to the table and emptied the stew into the bowls. “Sit down. You need to eat.”

She did as he asked. “I’m really not hungry.”

He sat across from her. “Eat anyway. You need strength to hike around the mountains. I don’t need to have to carry you out of there tomorrow.”

She took a small bite and chewed slowly. “You’re good at giving orders.”

He swallowed a spoonful of stew. “I’ve had a lot of years to practice.”

Those deep green eyes widened and he felt a stirring of awareness. “How long were you in the army?”

He watched her take another bite. “I went in the day I turned eighteen, and got discharged last December. Twenty years.” When had he suddenly become such an open book?