Her Rancher Bodyguard

“You can keep me safe here,” she insisted, not liking the pleading tone in her voice.

“I can keep you safer on my own turf.”

Martin’s Crossing. She shouldn’t have minded the idea of going to the place her siblings called home. But she wasn’t a Martin of Martin’s Crossing. She was their half sister. The only thing they had in common was the mother who had abandoned them all.

“I guess refusing to go won’t work.”

He laughed at that. “’Fraid not. Before long you’ll be wishing I was the only Wilder in your life.”

* * *

By ten o’clock that evening Boone and Kayla were heading for the Wilder Ranch. Lucy had been turned loose to head home for a few days.

Exhausted by a day that had included police reports and long conversations with her father, Kayla slept the ride away, which helped her avoid answering any more of Boone’s questions. She didn’t want to explain the things best left in the past. Those subjects were walls between herself and her father. Lack of trust loomed as the largest barrier in their ever-fragile relationship.

She didn’t want Boone inside those walls.

She woke up as they drove through Martin’s Crossing. Her head had been at a strange angle and her neck ached. She rubbed it, aware that Boone had probably seen her drool in her sleep.

“We’re home,” he said, his voice softly husky in the dark interior of the truck.

Home. It wasn’t her home, even though it had become familiar to her in the past year. The main street where her brother Duke owned Duke’s No Bar and Grill. Across the street was the shop his wife, Oregon, owned, Oregon’s All Things. Duke’s wife was crafty and artistic. She made clothes, hand-painted Christmas ornaments and other pretty items. The grocery store was to the right of Oregon’s. Lefty Mueller’s store, where he sold wooden Christmas carousels and other hand-carved art, was to the left. Kayla was a city girl but Martin’s Crossing held a certain appeal. But not long-term. Not for her.

For some reason the thought invoked a melancholy that took her by surprise, sending a few tears trickling down her cheeks. She kept her gaze on the passing scenery and brushed away the tears.

“Where do your parents live?” she asked, turning from the window and pulling her hair back from her face.

“A few minutes out of town.” He kept driving, the radio playing country music and the open windows letting in warm summer air. “You okay?”

“Of course.”

He cleared his throat, then let out a heartfelt sigh. “You were crying.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I have sisters, I know tears of sadness, tears of frustration. All brands of tears.”

“Okay, Mr. Tear Expert, why was I crying?”

“I’m not sure of the exact reason, but if you want to talk...”

“I’d rather not.”

“Sometimes it helps,” he prodded.

“Really? I don’t see you wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

“No, I guess I don’t.”

She stared out the open window, enjoying the humid breeze that lifted hair that had come loose. Outside the landscape was dark except for an occasional security light that flashed an orange glow across a lawn or outbuilding and the silvery light of a nearly full moon. Cattle were dark silhouettes grazing in the fields.

They turned up a narrow, rutted driveway. Ahead she could see a two-story white farmhouse. The front-porch light was on. In the distance she could see the dark shapes that meant numerous outbuildings.

“I hope you don’t mind the country.”

“It isn’t my favorite.”

He laughed a little. “Well, you’ll either sink or swim, sunshine.”

Sunshine. She’d never had a nickname. She’d never been anyone’s sunshine. It didn’t mean anything to him. But it meant something to her. Something that she couldn’t quite define.

Sunshine was definitely better than Cinderella.

“Here we are. Home sweet home. I promise you, you’re in for a real experience. We are a pretty crazy bunch.”

“I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can.” He got out of the truck, and she followed.

He held her suitcase and handed her the smaller overnight bag that accompanied it. “Let’s get you settled.”

“Don’t you live here?”

He shook his head. “No. I bought a little RV. It’s hooked up to power over by the barn.”

“But you’re going to be close by, right?” She felt as if he was suddenly drifting out of reach. She took a deep breath. He was practically a stranger. Not her lifeline.

“I’ll be around more than you can stand. But I prefer my own space. I’m not much for company and big crowds. Believe me, you’re going to have your share of people. You’ll want solitude when you’re done with this month on the Wilder Ranch.”

“Month?”

He shrugged it off. “We aren’t sending you out on your own until we know who is behind the threats and the attack. Maybe it wasn’t the same guy.”

“I kind of think it is.”

She followed him up the steps and as they got to the front door, it opened. Standing on the other side of the screen door was a woman past middle age. Her dark hair was short and framed a classically beautiful face.

“You must be Kayla,” the woman said, an almost imperceptible Hispanic accent, giving the words a soft lilt. “I’m Maria Wilder.”

“Mrs. Wilder, thank you for letting me stay with you.”

Boone’s mother laughed. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t met everyone.”

Boone opened the door and motioned Kayla inside. She glanced back, worried he wouldn’t go in with her. But he did. The lifeline was intact.

“I’m putting you upstairs in Boone’s old room. Janie is just down the hall from you with Essie and Allie. Michaela is across the hall. Jase and Lucas are on the other side of her. We’re downstairs if you need anything.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m so sorry for putting you out this way,” she started to explain.