Her Rancher Bodyguard

“But I’d make such a snazzy Prince Charming,” he said as he lifted his coffee cup in salute. “Do you have something against the prince, the singing animals or wicked stepmothers?”

“All of the above.” She gave him a long look that forced a sharp comment. “Especially handsome princes with cowboy hats and big smiles.”

“Ouch.” He touched his hand to his heart. “Sorry, but we don’t have a choice.”

“Then, tell me what we’re really doing because I’m too old for fairy tales.”

“We’re going to your dad’s fund-raiser. I’m supposed to make sure you show up and that you behave.”

She took a bite of biscuit. “He knows me so well.”

That was what this was all about. It wasn’t about her safety. It was about his campaign. His career. And making sure she didn’t mess up either one. She was twenty-four years old and he still doubted her ability to be a Stanford. Truth be told, she doubted it, too. If he hadn’t done the DNA test, she would have been positive she wasn’t his offspring, so different were they.

She was her mother’s daughter. The embarrassment. He’d never actually called her that. Her youngest half brother, Michael, had. She’d heard him tell a friend to ignore her, that she was dropped off on the doorstep as a baby and her mother was insane.

“You okay?” Boone Wilder’s voice was softly concerned, taking her by surprise.

She looked up from the empty plate and gave him her best carefree smile. “Of course. I’m just deciding what to wear.”

“Of course you are.”

“We could let him know I have a concussion and maybe he’ll let us off the hook.”

“I already tried that. He said if you can walk, he wants you there.”

“Of course he did. Dear old Dad, he’s all heart.”

He refilled her mug, then his. “For what it’s worth, he did sound concerned.”

“Did he?” That was a surprise. She carried her plate to the sink and rinsed it. “Where’s Lucy?”

“On your patio. She said you have the best view in the city.” Boone took the rinsed plate and opened the door of the dishwasher.

“I’m sorry about last night. I’m sure you didn’t plan for a fun Friday night at the ER.”

“We were working. So nothing to apologize for.”

Of course. Her dad was probably paying them a decent amount for their babysitting services. “If you have your measurements, we can send out for a tux. No need to go shopping. And I already have a dress.”

“I do have my measurements. But I’d give anything to not go shopping.”

She noticed he rubbed his shoulder as he said it. Her gaze was drawn again to the scar on his face, and then lower to the one on his neck.

“Shrapnel,” he said.

She met his dark gaze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“No one ever does.”

“Iraq?”

“Afghanistan.” He set his cup on the counter. “About that monkey suit I have to wear...”

She nodded and headed for her room and her cell phone she’d left there. When she walked through the door of her bedroom, she noticed the bouquet of flowers on her dresser. Her dad had probably sent them. His way of being there when he wasn’t.

She found the card buried amid the blooms and opened it.

You shouldn’t have run, because now we’re going to play dirty. Your secrets remain secrets. We get the money. Tell your father.

She grabbed the flowers and hurried from her room, carrying them in front of her. She ignored Boone as she opened the trash can and shoved the flowers inside, vase and all. She ripped up the card and tossed it in, shuddering as the scraps of paper fluttered among the bloodred blooms.

“What’s that all about?” Boone’s voice rumbled in her ear. She shook her head, unable to answer.

He reached past her, retrieving the pieces of card.

“Who delivered these?” he asked as he pieced the card together on the counter.

“Like I know? I was sleeping. You were here when they were delivered.” Her voice shook. She really didn’t want to sound shaky or afraid. She didn’t want to give this unknown person that kind of power over her.

“No, actually, I wasn’t. The flowers were on your dresser when we got here last night. You were pretty wiped out and probably didn’t notice.”

“They were in here already?”

“Yeah, darlin’, they were here. On your dresser. You didn’t know you had flowers?”

“No. I didn’t know.”

“Well, that’s a problem,” Boone said, as casual as if he was talking about the weather.

“So what do we do?” Lucy asked as she walked in from the living room.

“We go on about our business.” Boone shrugged as he said it. “And we all sit down and get honest about what’s going on here. Your dad said he wants you front and center at campaign events. And you’re trying to push this off as an overzealous admirer. Neither of you is being honest. What secrets is this guy talking about?”

“I don’t know. Maybe my drug use. Most people know about my mom. Maybe this person believes there’s more to her story. I don’t know.”

“I’m not buying any of it.” Boone grabbed a ziplock bag out of a drawer and brushed the pieces of note into it. “We’ll see if we can salvage any prints.”

“I didn’t know that they were contacting my dad,” Kayla said. She tried to remember something, anything about her attacker.

“He wanted to protect you. You were obviously trying to protect him,” Lucy chimed in.

“Yes, we’re all about protecting one another.” Kayla walked away, unwilling to dwell on the pain of knowing how untrue those words were.

Boone followed her out to the deck. She walked to the ledge and looked out over the city of Austin. It was an incredible view. She blinked back tears that threatened to blur her vision. She would not cry.

A hand, strong and warm, rested on her shoulder, pulled her a little bit close, then moved away. She found herself wanting to slide close to him, to allow the comfort of his touch to continue. She could use a hug right now.

Great, she was getting sappy. She could imagine the look on his face if she told him she needed a hug. He’d get that goofy grin on his face and pull the Prince-Charming-to-the-rescue act. No, she didn’t need that.