Ladd Springs (Ladd Springs, Book #1) (13 page)

But
it was exactly that cause which put her life in danger.

Nick
hiked the steep path. Emerging from the forest at the top, he paused to catch
his breath. One thing about city life, it robbed the body of physical fitness. Venturing
out onto the open trail, he assessed Delaney’s cabin to be a one-room floor
plan, perhaps with the addition of a loft—certainly no bigger than a two-car
garage. He marveled at the diminutive size.
The
two
of them lived
there?

The
scent of cornbread tickled his nose. Pleasure coursed through him.
She cooks
.
Add another plus for the lady in the knockout jeans. A quick vision of her
jean-clad rear end rose sharp in his mind’s eye. Low, hip-hugging jeans that
hugged her curves, caressed her every movement took center stage in his brain. From
what he’d seen, it’s all she seemed to wear. But Delaney would receive no
complaints from him. He liked her in jeans. He’d like her out of them, too.

A
ripple moved through his groin and he chastised himself. This would not do. Lusting
after her while on guard would only distract him. His intention was to protect
her tonight, not seduce her. Desire coiled around his thoughts. Hopefully there
would be a time for that little feat later.

Pleasantly
full, Delaney rinsed the last dish and poured herself a half glass of wine. The
cornbread and leftover fried chicken had definitely hit the spot. Tilting the
bottle away from her, she read the label. She had no idea if it was a good year
or not, no idea if it was from a good vintage. She relied on Ashley for that. That
woman was the closest thing to a connoisseur Delaney had when it came to wine
selection, claiming she drank for her heart, to keep the “pipes” clean. Delaney
suspected Ashley enjoyed her wine more than for health reasons, but it wasn’t
her place to judge.

A
loud rap sounded at her door. Panic ripped through her heart. Jerking the wine
bottle upright, Delaney snatched her gun. But sizing up the figure through the
door glass, she blew out her breath. Large man was fat. Clem and second guy
were scrawny. The white shirt cinched it. Pulse pounding, she slid the gun
beneath the towel, calming her breath. It was only Nick.

Briefly
checking her attire for appropriateness, she decided the loose, heavy weave
T-shirt and long cotton pants weren’t overly revealing. She was presentable. Her
pulse scattered through her veins, as she wondered what he wanted. Had he seen
something? She opened the door quickly. “What’s up?” She looked past him, but
it was pitch black. She wouldn’t be able to see a man if was standing ten feet
off the porch. She gazed up at him. “Is someone here?”

Nick
smiled, openly giving her the once over. “No.” He peered over her head and
said, “I smelled cornbread.”

Delaney
pulled back, her surprise complete. “Cornbread?”

He
gave a sheepish nod. “Didn’t realize how hungry I was until the air filled with
the sweet scent of home cooking. My nose doesn’t deceive me, does it? You are
baking cornbread, right?”

Cornbread?
The man had scared the be-jeepers out of her for cornbread?

“Well,
yeah...” she said. “About an
hour
ago.”

He
waggled his thick brow. “Any left?”

Delaney
laughed at the easy sparkle dancing in his black eyes.

“What’s
so funny?” he asked, feigning offense.

Allowing
the humor to loosen the knot in her chest, she shook her head. “My bodyguard is
hungry.” She looked up at him and saw that he, too, thought it a bit silly. Sharing
the absurdity of the moment, she added, “My first Sir Galahad and what do I
get?” She rolled her eyes. “I have to feed him.”

“If
you recall”—he cocked his head toward her, with a slight lift to his brow—“this
wasn’t a planned assignment.”

“And
then he blames me for his penchant for damsels in distress. Go figure!”

Amused
by her remark, Nick flashed a dimpled smile. Still dressed as she had left him,
it appeared he hadn’t left since their escapade, and deciding there was no
harm, she allowed him in. Felicity wasn’t home, and besides, she owed him one. The
man with the gun
could
be outside. Delaney stepped aside and swept a
hand for him to enter. “Might as well come in.”

Nick
strolled in, arced a glance around the interior, and she wondered what he
thought of the humble abode she called home. Exposed beams, rough-hewn log
siding, wide plank floors and only the barest of necessities in furniture, it
was all she and Felicity needed. The only thing she had updated since moving in
was the floor. Unable to tolerate the natural surface of the wood beneath her
feet, Delaney had sanded and refinished them herself. Barefoot living was a
must in her world.

“Nice
little place you have here.” He nodded in approval. “It’s rustic.”

Delaney
closed and locked the door behind him. “Rustic is a kind word, wouldn’t you
say?”

“It’s
nice, really.”

“Thanks.”
Delaney walked around him and into the kitchen where she adjusted the dishtowel
so it fully concealed her pistol. She didn’t need Nick all worked up over the
fact she intended to take care of things herself tonight. He’d probably dole
out some sort of lecture about how it wasn’t safe for a
woman
to handle
a weapon.

As
if on cue, he asked, “Are you scared?”

Delaney
peeled back the foil and plucked one of the mini loaves from the white plate. Conscious
of his gaze on her, she set the bread on a napkin. She certainly didn’t want to
feel scared. “Not really,” she replied, and reached for the butter knife.

Storm
clouds gathered in his eyes, making them appear both dark and menacing, sending
a shiver up her spine. “You need to take that man seriously, you know.”

The
bread and paper grew moist within her palm. She swiped a hunk of butter from
the dish, slathered it over the top of the loaf and handed it over to him. “I
get it. A lot of whackos running around...”

“Dangerous
whackos,” he said, and took the bread from her. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re
welcome.”

“That’s
quite a bit of butter you serve up.”

“Can’t
eat cornbread without butter,” she informed him. “Not in these parts, anyway.”

He
smiled. “Fine with me. I’m only surprised someone in your fine shape can eat the
stuff.”

“Hiking.”

“Works
well,” he said, a brazen glance to her lower body. “Where’s Felicity?”

“She’s
staying at a friend’s house tonight.”

“Good.
She doesn’t need to be exposed to this.”

Her
sentiments exactly.

Nick
inhaled half the loaf and groaned aloud.

Satisfaction
swelled in her breast. It was her own recipe. Using the cornmeal Ashley ground
for her from her garden corn, she made the bread once or twice a week.

“This
is
really
good,” he said and plopped the remainder into his mouth.

As
he chewed, Delaney took pride in watching him enjoy her food. It gave her a
sense of purpose, reward. Felicity raved about her cooking, but it was nice to
hear it from a stranger. Her heart skipped a beat. And Nick Harris was a
stranger—in her house—eating her food.

“It’s
incredibly moist. Sweet, too.”

“It’s
my secret. I add pudding to the mix.”

“Pudding?”

She
nodded, though if her mother ever saw her put pudding into the cornbread mix,
she would not have approved. Susannah Ladd Wilkins did not believe in tinkering
with tradition.

“Can
I have another?” he asked.

“Sure.”
Delaney reached for a separate napkin and fumbled a bit as she placed the
golden loaf in the center. “They’re better fresh from the oven,” she said. Smearing
another heap of butter over top, she thrust it toward him.

Accepting
it, he winked. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day.”

Was
he flirting with her? Delaney felt a warm flush, probably from the wine in her
system. She glanced over the counter. Where was her glass?

“That
wine looks good, too.” He hitched his chin toward the counter behind her. “But
that will have to wait for another day. No drinking on duty.”

Delaney
swallowed back her embarrassment. What did he think of her drinking alone? She
collected her glass from the counter, a slight tremble to her grip. “I’m not a
drinker.”

“No?”

The
could-have-fooled-me look rubbed her the wrong way. “I mean, I
rarely
drink. Only when Felicity’s not home.”

Nick
raised a brow in question.

“Her
father was an alcoholic,” Delaney stated bluntly.

The
revelation knocked the humor from his face. “Was?”

“Is,”
she corrected, growing flustered with the personal nature of the conversation. “I
like to keep it away from her. The alcohol.”

Nick
nodded that he understood, but Delaney wondered if he could. Did he have
experience with an alcoholic? Did he know what it was like to suffer the
alcohol-induced outbursts? The scathing tongue? She shoved the memories from
her mind and took a swallow of wine. Jack was a thing of the past and Delaney
would allow him no power in her life.

When
Nick finished the second loaf, awkwardness settled between them. She could feel
him looking at her, curiosity swimming in the depths of his dark eyes. Was he
thinking about the men, or was his mind delving into a more intimate realm? The
realm of man and woman, attraction, desire...

Delaney
hadn’t played that game in a very long time, but she could recognize the signs.
Men around town made advances, sniffed around like hound dogs for cues she was
willing to engage with them. A few had been interesting, but none memorable,
none worthy of her time. She was committed to Felicity. Whatever her daughter
needed, she would have. They were a team, a unit. They were a family. Delaney
regretted that her marriage hadn’t work out, because it meant Felicity had to
grow up without a father, without a man in the house to demonstrate what real
male love looked like, how it treated a woman. How it
respected
a woman.

Morton
Parker had filled in like the ace father he was, his boys stellar examples of
how young men should behave. In fact, Delaney trusted Felicity with Travis and
Troy without question. She only wished Felicity had her own father, all to
herself. A man to guide her, to love her. But Jack wasn’t that man.

Nick
crumpled the napkin in hand. “Guess I’d better be heading out.”

“You’re
leaving?” she asked, and blushed at the self-assured pleasure moving into his
expression. She plunked the wine down. “I mean, it’s okay if you want to, I’m
fine on my own.” Delaney fortified her diaphragm and added solidly, “I can
handle things on my own, is what I meant to say.”

“I’m
sure you can,” he replied, the sardonic gleam returning to his eyes. He
scratched the back of his head and made a half-grimace. “But how about I hang
around as backup?”

“Whatever,”
she replied casually, replacing the foil over the bread plate. She didn’t’ want
him to think she
wanted
him here. On second thought, she paused. “Would
you like the last piece to go?”

A
sweeping smile overtook his features, landing square in his dimples. “I’d
rather come back for it later.”

Delaney
hastily sealed the foil back in place, tamping back a quick flight of nerves. A
quiet noise hit the rear of her cabin. Her heart stopped. Nick whipped his head
toward her bedroom, pressed a finger to his lips. His gaze became a
heat-seeking missile, scanning the back wall. Her heart thudded like a
locomotive. Was someone trying to get in?

Chapter Thirteen

As
he pulled his gun from his waistband, Nick was surprised to see Delaney pull
one out from beneath a plaid kitchen towel. Maybe she was more frightened than
she let on. Smart woman.

Nick
motioned for her to stay put. She shook her head vigorously, but he held up a
stiff finger and pointed it at her.
One minute, you wait here
.

When
she took a step toward him, he thrust her a hardened glare.
Back off
. The
last thing he wanted to do was explain a bullet wound to her daughter,
Felicity.

Delaney
became still. She lowered the gun to her side. Satisfied she got the message,
Nick moved softly in the direction of the noise that had come from the back
room. He paused at the open doorway. Must be her bedroom. Jeans were piled in a
basket in the corner, a dresser backed against the wall beside him. Next to it,
a door sat ajar, presumably her bathroom. Fleeting images of Delaney naked in
the shower zipped through his mind, but he squelched them. He edged along the
wall, restraining his reaction to the perfumed scent lingering in the air. On
the far side, there was a curtained window. Whoever was out there had the
advantage. They could see in, but he couldn’t see out.

Nick
could feel Delaney standing by the door. Turning to her, he whispered, “Turn
out the lights.”

She
disappeared and the living room went dark. Within seconds, he noted the drift
of floral fragrance as she tiptoed up beside him. Her hand came to rest on his
upper arm. “Did you see anything?” she whispered.

Although
he couldn’t see her, he could hear her breathing by his side. The hand on his
arm assaulted his focus. Images of her T-shirted torso, her lean legs in the
thin cotton pants flooded his mind. It was the steel pistol against his thigh
that disconcerted him. “No,” he managed. He scanned the blackness, but could
see almost nothing. The cabin seemed to be embedded within the mountain itself,
the window a wedge between a wall of wood and a wall of earth. Access to her
room would be difficult from this angle. Not impossible, but difficult.

The
soft pads of her fingers pressed into him. “What is it?”

“I
don’t know yet.” He turned from the window. “Do you have a back door?”

“No.”
She slid her hand to his elbow.

“I
didn’t see anything outside,” he said. The hard line of the gun in her hand was
less than reassuring. He noted she left the gun hot. Last thing he needed was
for her to misfire in the dark and hit
him
. “You wait here. I’ll go
check it out.”

“Wait—”
Delaney clutched at him. “I’ll come with you.”

“Scared?”

“No.”

Nick
chuckled softly.

“I
can’t
see
you,” she said, then snapped, “And I’d hate to
shoot
you by accident after all your help.”

You
and me both. Placing his hand over hers, Nick gingerly removed her hand from
his arm. “Thanks, but I won’t be long.”

Working
from memory, he crossed the room in the inky blackness—which was easy—a route which
fortunately was short and straight. As he rounded her bedroom door, the front
porch light came into view. Once again, Nick instructed Delaney to stay put
while he checked outside. Snaking along the wall, he kept an eye on the front
door, toggling between it and the small window to the left. If someone was
lying in wait outside, Nick needed to maintain an element of surprise. As he
neared the door, he watched for signs of movement. Through the etched glass,
the light shone white. Unlikely anyone would stand out there exposed, but he
wasn’t taking any chances. The man he met on the trail had already proven his
boldness. Nick slid his hand to the door knob. Slowly, silently, he turned it. He
raised his gun to eye level and poised his finger on the trigger. Easing the
door open, he peered out through the slice of opening. Something moved. His
grip tightened. His breathing stopped.

Down
the trail, Nick spotted a dark figure running. He was almost positive it was a
man. Slipping outside, he stole quickly across the porch. Through the screen,
he sharpened his focus, but the swath of light wasn’t enough for him to see with
any clarity.

But
he didn’t have to. Someone had been here. Nick detected the scent of tobacco in
the air. He turned and stopped suddenly at the sight of Delaney standing in the
open doorway. “What are you
doing
?”

“Did
you see someone?” she whispered.

Standing
only feet behind him, she was an easy shot, should someone decide to take one. So
was he. Nick tucked his weapon back into the waistband of his jeans and strode
over to her. “Didn’t I tell you to wait?”

“I’m
not waiting in there like a sitting duck,” she said, reaching for his arm
again. She peered down the trail that led to Ernie’s cabin. “Did you see
someone?”

Nick’s
instinct was to lie, set her mind at ease. The protector in him wanted her to
remain calm. But the man in him liked the way she grabbed hold of him for
protection. “Someone was here.”

Her
expression registered the hit. “You
saw
him?”

Nick
caught another whiff of floral and fruit and thought it might be her shampoo. “Yes,”
he said, glancing over her hair. Pulled up into a loosely tied bun, strands of
creamy blonde fell into a frame about her face. It accentuated her dark brows,
eyes black as coal within the dim light. Nick could see her unease catch fire
as she imagined the man lurking outside in the darkness. “He’s gone,” he
reassured.

She
clutched at him. “Are you sure?”

He
nodded. “Went down the trail.”

Her
eyes flicked down the trail, then back to him. “How can you be sure he won’t
come back?”

“I
can’t. Which is why I’m staying.”

Delaney
returned a look that nearly undid him. The tough girl had shades of
vulnerability. “It’ll be okay.” He cast a glance around the porch and cupped
his hand over hers. “The good news is, you only have one way in or out. I’ll
park myself here so you can rest easy. No one will get by me tonight.”

“All
night?” she uttered.

“All
night.” He took her by the hand and led her back into the cabin.

Delaney
paused at the door, her slender hand softly pulling from his. “But where will
you sleep?”

He
smiled down at her. “Now what kind of body guard would that make me if I slept
on the job?”

Delaney
realized her error and faltered, “I—I…” She glanced about her porch, the
furnishing limited to a couple of rickety rocking chairs and a wobbly wood
table. “There’s not even a place to sit, really.”

He
raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent time in worse.”

A
wounded look entered her eyes, her very beautiful, very vulnerable, very
alluring eyes. He noted that the dim lighting softened everything about her. “I
only meant that I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,”
she said hesitantly, as though debating her next move.

“I
could use a glass of water, if you can spare it.”

Delaney
shook her head , as if to clear it. “Of course,” she said.

Nick
followed her to the kitchen, his attention divided between the gun in her hand
and the lengths of hair falling about her neck and shoulders. She flipped on
the light, but froze, her hand on the switch. “Is that okay?”

He
gave a confident nod. “He’s gone. You keep the curtains closed and you’ll be
fine.” Nick watched the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the faded T-shirt
as she inhaled deeply to calm herself. “Your daughter already handing out the
university gear?” he asked, indicating the white emblem on the front of her orange
shirt.

Delaney
dropped her head and gently tugged the hem. “Oh, this?” She looked up at him
and smiled tentatively. “Yes. Once she was accepted, her friends Travis and
Troy bought her half dozen of these.”

“Travis
and Troy?”

For
the first time since he’d been here, Delaney’s expression relaxed into a smile.
Easy, bright, it made her look healthy and happy and all the more attractive.

“They’re
boys she grew up with.”

“Platonic,
I assume?”

Delaney
laughed and set her gun down by the dish cloth. “Not by their choosing.”

Of
course not, he thought. Felicity was as attractive as her mother, but with an
entirely different appeal. Delaney had an air of strength about her, a
determined set to her jaw, dark brows and spirited brown eyes that posed a sexy
contrast to her long blonde hair, the color of pale wheat silk. Her body was
petite, mostly covered from sight at the moment, yet she moved with a swagger
that shouted confidence. Until tonight. He smiled inwardly as she handed him a
mason jar with water. With a nod of thanks, he sipped, taking her in from over
the rim. It was a swagger her jeans embodied well. And if there was one thing
Nick liked in a woman, it was confidence.

Felicity
was a different caliber entirely. Strawberry blonde, she was fair-skinned and
he’d bet fair-hearted as well. From the two brief conversations he’d had with her,
he could tell she was smart but had a gentle way about her. Unlike her mother
who was accustomed to the hard work of horses and stables, Felicity was the
product of indoor practice and study. She was refined, content to be part of
the orchestra rather than take center stage.

Unlike
her mother. Something told him Delaney could strut across a stage like nobody’s
business, the audience demanding encore after encore. An audience of mostly
men, that is. Nick cooled his thoughts with a long, deep swallow of water and
emptied the glass. “Thanks.” He handed it back, purposely retaining hold as her
fingers closed around his. “I needed that,” he said, enjoying the slight bump
to her gaze.

But
he was best parked outside, where his mind had no distractions. Nick couldn’t
trust himself not to “touch” if he stayed inside with Delaney any longer. “If
you need anything,” he said, slowly arching a single brow, “I’ll be right
outside that door.”

Delaney
slanted a glance toward the door and said, “I feel silly having you sit outside
all night.”

“Would
you rather I sit indoors? That sofa looks mighty comfy.”

“Nice
try.” With her hands wrapped around his glass on the counter, a subtle smile drifted
over her face.

And
if Nick wasn’t mistaken, he’d venture to bet she was harboring a hint of desire
herself.
Perfect
. “I’ll always try,” he returned, indulging in the
moment. As she walked him to the door, he added, “Try and get some sleep, will
you?”

“Are
you my father, now?”

“Oh
no, far from it—of that, you can be sure.”

Nick
went outside and Delaney locked the door behind him. Lingering, she turned,
hands encircling the cold metal knob. It was an odd feeling, knowing he was
just outside her door. On the one hand, it felt nice, knowing he was there,
should the stranger come back. She’d been surprised the man with the gun had
the nerve to track her down. But he couldn’t have followed her. Nick had run
him off back on the trail. She turned, and gazed through the carved lines of
the glass door. The only way the man could have known where to find her, was
through Clem. He must have told Clem about her, and Clem had ordered him to
come after the pictures.

But
she couldn’t believe Clem would really send an armed man after her. If she
didn’t cooperate—which she wouldn’t—he might actually shoot her. Nervous energy
pushed her from the door, propelling her to the kitchen. Did Clem really have
it in him? He’d always been a low-life in her book, engaging in petty crime
through the years, disorderly conduct and the like, but nothing ever serious. To
her knowledge, he had never landed himself in jail.

Perhaps
circumstances dictated desperate measures. If Clem knew she was on to his gold
theft, he might indeed be capable of doing anything to cover his crime. Delaney
rinsed and dried Nick’s glass, her thoughts wandering to the front porch. Suddenly,
she was glad he was here. She didn’t trust anyone or anything at the moment. Anything
except
his
ability to protect her.

Setting
the glass on the dish rack to dry, Delaney went into her bedroom. Retrieving
the camera from under her pillow, she sat on the edge of her bed and scrolled
through the images again. There were three she decided were worthy for Ernie’s
viewing. Three she could use to prove there were men on the property who
shouldn’t be. She dropped camera to her lap. But she still had to prove their
connection to Clem. Somehow, she had to get photos of him with his men. She had
to prove her case beyond reasonable doubt. Ernie would defend Clem unless she could
show him for the guilty scalawag he was. But how?

It
was only a fluke she’d caught sight of them together in the first place. If
only she could share her discovery with Nick. Maybe he’d be able to think of a
way to draw the connection. He’d proven himself pretty handy so far. She
glanced toward her front porch. The thought of him sitting outside her door
evoked images of him staring down that man on the trail today, chasing him away
from her cabin tonight. Nick was a brave one. A strong one. When the noise hit
and the lights went out, she had felt totally safe in his presence. There
wasn’t the slightest doubt that Prince Harris would take care of whoever was
outside.