Worth the Risk (9 page)

With a squeak of shock, Hannah’s hands flew up to grip his biceps, and he caught her around the waist. “You have a motorcycle?”

“I have a lot of things.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Had a girl I needed to kiss.” And see and touch. He’d only been back in town a few hours. Hadn’t planned it. Couldn’t explain it. “Any students here?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Brothers?” His hands slid lower down her back.

Her breath came faster. “Um…no.”

Her eyes were wide on his, their bodies flush chest to thigh, and he couldn’t remember ever being this happy to be back from a trip. His fingers grazed her cheek, then slid around until he cupped the back of her neck. “Anyone at all I should worry about?”

“Worry about?”

He covered her mouth in answer, savored the softness of her lips under his. She’d been skittish and shy when they last parted, so he went slow, and he felt the exact second she let go and relaxed into him. She smelled sweet and fresh, like vanilla and honey. Felt even better as her fingers slid up and into his hair, her breasts pressed against his chest. Maybe he hadn’t lost as much ground as he’d feared.

He continued loving her mouth, sliding his tongue against hers. When she sighed and slipped more fully into his arms, he walked her back into an empty stall, took his time, kissed her like he wanted to. Like he’d thought way too much about. And, holy hell, kissing her shouldn’t make him this hot, not in all the places he was now burning. He deepened the kiss, tightened his grip at her neck and waist. The kiss was hot and hard and when he lifted his head, he found her eyes were still closed.

“So damn sweet.” Which only made him want her more.

She blinked up at him, eyes dazed, looking every bit like a girl who’d been thoroughly kissed. “It’s hard to breathe around you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know.”

She smiled up at him and he was nearly knocked off his feet. This quiet, unassuming girl was going to kill him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to step back. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“On a horse?”

Stephen half laughed, half groaned, thinking of the kind of ride he really wanted, and dropped a kiss on her nose. “Yes. We need to do something with you standing here sexy as hell, your mouth all red and shiny.” It was either ride or go home and take a cold shower. Of course, a ride might be damn uncomfortable at the moment.

He let her step away, knowing his attention clearly baffled her. He liked that too. “I’ll ride Roma.”

“Roma?”

“He has to be ridden, right? I’d rather it be me than you.” Silly, maybe; she could obviously handle herself, but he still had this urge to protect her.

She moved toward the tack room. “You’ve ridden before?”

“Not in a while, but my uncle had horses, so I rode quite a bit as a kid.”

“Okay. That’s Roma’s bridle there.” She motioned toward a hook and pointed out the rest.

They saddled the horses, Hannah moving around the barn with way more confidence than she moved around him. Once out of the gate, the horses walked easily beside each other aside from a few sidesteps by Roma. The afternoon sun was at their backs, beginning its descent over rolling hills. Not hills really, more like gentle slopes, just enough to add texture to the landscape.

He glanced over and down at Hannah, as her horse was several hands smaller than Roma. He was struck with a sudden vision of laying her down in the soft grass, making love to her with the sun shining in her hair. “This is nice.”

“I like it. It’s always calmed me.”

The things he was thinking about doing to her would not inspire calm. “Freedom Farm. Did you name it?”

“Yes. It didn’t have any name before.”

“Because it gives the kids freedom?”

She smiled. “Exactly.”

Roma’s ears pricked and he shied as they passed another horse in the last turnout pasture. Winnie walked on unaffected. “So is this your only job, you’re full-time here?” He’d wondered, because she said she was a physical therapist, if maybe she worked somewhere else too.

“Yep, this is it. I’m lucky. I wouldn’t make enough from students to cover a place like this, but it was all left to me when the previous owners passed away.”

He looked over at her. “Left to you? You were related?”

“No. They didn’t have any other family. I spent lot of time out here as a teenager and…I guess they thought of me as a granddaughter. I didn’t expect it, but I’m grateful. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and there’s so much more I want to do. So many ideas I—” She brought Winnie up short.

Stephen did the same and followed her gaze to the top of the ridge. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I just thought I saw something. Or someone.”

“Is that part of your property up there?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t care for the worry in her voice. “What
someones
are supposed to be there?”

“People from the city, I guess. Surveying? I don’t know.”

He was still staring at the ridge when she nudged Winnie forward. He had a very bad feeling. “Why would the city be surveying?”

“Oh, um…It’s nothing really. I just got a letter from the city planner’s office recently, and…it turns out they might
not
have left this to me. Something about trusts and domains. I don’t really know.”

Son of a bitch. So
this
was the property Dave had been looking at? Had
him
looking at? “So it’s not for sale?”

“No. Why?”

He opened his mouth to tell her what little he knew, then shut it. He’d get the facts, then he’d take care of it.

Had she really just told Stephen something she hadn’t even told her brothers? She didn’t need another person worrying about her. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Right,” he said, not sounding entirely like he meant it.

“There’s a small creek up ahead. Let’s cross that and circle back.” They paused side by side on the shady bank to let the horses drink and she gave Winnie a loving pat.

“Have you always ridden?”

“No. I started when I was seventeen.”

It was a day she remembered well. A drive in the country with Nick, a forced venture from the safety of home. The world had flown by as she stared blankly out the car window. And then she’d said one word. Stop. Even one word was so rare, Nick had stopped right in the middle of the road.

“What? You want to see the horses?” he’d asked.

So completely broken in body and spirit, she still couldn’t say why she’d voiced that one word. Why she’d nodded yes, in answer to his question. But he’d turned in at the gate and in minutes she was limping slowly into the darkness of the barn. She paused at a stall and raised her hand toward a dark brown horse as far as her healing arm would allow. He lowered his head, his velvety muzzle meeting her halfway as if he knew just how much it hurt.

When she came back to the present, Stephen was staring at her intently. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring at me.”

A lazy smile pulled at his mouth. “I like looking at you. You’re beautiful.”

There was no sound above the gurgling water and the wind in the trees.

“You don’t like me to say that.”

No. She didn’t. Because she wasn’t. So much so, it felt like a lie to say thank you. And if he knew—

“Hannah.”

Without warning, Stephen leaned in his saddle and kissed her. A mind-boggling, toe-curling kiss that left her breathless. When they parted, he braced her with a strong hand lest she fall right out of her saddle and into his.

Good Lord. The satisfied smile that lit his face was enough to make a girl forget who she was.

They returned to the barn, unsaddled, and turned out the horses. Stephen moved easily, mouthwatering in jeans and dusty boots, and she tried not to stare. She’d for sure never be able to go to her favorite wooded spot again without thinking of him. But without the horses as a buffer, inadequacy crept in.

“Well,” Stephen said, after several minutes passed standing at the fence. “Maybe we could go to dinner one night this week.”

“Okay.”

Still neither of them moved, both looking at the horses grazing. Now that the sun was setting it felt more on the winter side of spring than summer. She wrapped her arms around her middle, the green knit top she wore not quite enough.

Trust him.

Mia had said that when she trusted enough, she’d be ready, that everyone had scars. Though she’d seen no evidence that Stephen did.

“Do you want to say goodbye to me at my door?”

His gaze swung to hers. “What?”

“You said once—”

“I know what I said. Are you asking me to?”

He stepped close, so close she could smell him. He was so big, so strong, and yet she’d stood there sandwiched between the wall of the barn and the wall that was Stephen unafraid. Secure even, like he could and would protect her.

“I was going to make spaghetti. It always makes too much for one person.”

A sexy grin spread across his gorgeous face. “Now it sounds like you’re asking me to dinner.”

If
she was normal and
if
they were dating, the next logical step would be to ask him to dinner. “I guess I am.”

Moving even closer, he touched her cheek, back to serious Stephen. “You sure?”

She nodded. If she wasn’t before, that clinched it.

So her house had been right here all along.
Stephen followed behind Hannah, turning on a barely visible path he hadn’t noticed his first time out. They wound around, moving slowly until the woods opened into a clearing revealing a small log cabin.

She got out and tossed a shy smile over her shoulder before leading him up the steps and onto a porch that ran along the front of the house. She unlocked the door and he followed her inside to a small open space that flowed into the kitchen. “Very nice.”

“Thank you.”

“Need some help?”

“No. I just have to heat the sauce and boil the spaghetti. It shouldn’t take long.” She bit her lip and fled to the kitchen.

He let her retreat and wandered the main room, all pine walls and floor. A cream shag rug lay under the coffee table and a patchwork quilt added a splash of color over the back of a leather couch. The walls were mostly bare, but framed photographs dotted end tables and lined the mantel.

He took a closer look at the pictures. Each one displayed a man or groupings of men, her brothers, he assumed. Hoped. A little girl smiled in most of them. A toddler with tiny pigtails poking out the sides of her head, some a little older, sporting missing teeth and long, white-blond hair, not gold as it was now.

Turning from the pictures, he ran a hand down the solid wooden post, admiring the craftsmanship. “This is really good work. Did the man who left it to you build it?”

“Yes. Long before I knew them.”

Stephen crossed the room and leaned against the counter opposite where she stood at the stove. He watched her open the same drawer three times before finally taking out a wooden spoon. “You sure you don’t need any help?”

“No. I mean…yes. I’m sure I don’t.”

“Okay. No rush.” She, however, looked very rushed, and cute, as her words tumbled out in a heap and he fought a smile.

“Do you want something to drink? I’m sorry, I should have asked you already. I don’t have a lot of company.” She averted her gaze with that last statement, angled her head toward the refrigerator. “I have soda and iced tea. Or water.”

“Tea’s fine.” So maybe it wasn’t just him making her nervous. And if having a man over for dinner was a new thing, he couldn’t help being glad. “So, how long have you lived here? In the cabin?”

“Almost two years.” She poured and held out the glass to him with a hand that shook so much, the ice cubes knocked together.

Damn, was she nervous? Or maybe afraid? Was she hiding from someone out here in the woods? The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable by asking, but he couldn’t help wondering if someone had hurt her, scared her. If so, he’d find out who and do some hurting of his own.

He watched her intently as she got out butter and Parmesan and opened a loaf of French bread. “Here. Let me at least cut the bread.” He straightened and moved toward her. “My mom always told me not to stand around like a log.”

“Okay.” She went back to the stove to stir the sauce.

“So they left everything to you in their will? The property, the house?”

“Not exactly.”

While she explained, he sawed off pieces of bread, buttered them on a tray, and put them in the oven.

“I guess Mr. Bradley had a feeling when he went into the hospital that he wouldn’t be coming home. And he didn’t. He told me there was an envelope for me in the barn office and the next day he died. Just three weeks after his wife. Almost like he didn’t want to live without her.”

Something he could understand, Stephen thought.

“The physical therapy part was just an idea, but the Bradleys liked it, wanted the place used for something good after they were gone. I have a date to go in and state my case. No one will talk to me before then.”

“I could look into it for you.”

“No. But thanks.”

He’d be looking anyway. If the city was looking to take it for revenue purposes, which was possible, they’d be more eager if they thought they had a buyer. He’d do everything in his power to make sure they didn’t. And if his partner hadn’t gotten the message before, he’d make damn sure he did now.

When the pasta was ready, they sat across from each other at her small table. Always ready for a meal, he poised his fork to dig in.

Hannah raised a hand to her forehead, beginning the sign of the cross. Crap. He dropped his fork and joined her, thinking his mother would probably cry if she knew how long it had been since he’d done that. Or that the only mention of God from his usual companions was in direct praise of his performance.

“It’s good,” he finally managed after inhaling several bites. “Really good.”

“Thanks. My brother taught me to cook, so…I always wonder if it just tastes good to me or…” She shrugged. “Probably not as good as your mom’s.”

“Another casualty of being raised by wolves?”

She took a bite and smiled.

“Honestly, it’s better, though I’ll deny that if you tell her I said so.” He watched her eat, more at ease than she’d been the last time they’d sat across from each other. Progress.

Progress toward what?
He didn’t know. All he knew was that he felt good when he was around her. And until he’d met her, he hadn’t realized how much he needed to feel good. He’d be perfectly happy just to sit here all night and watch her eat. The way she cut her spaghetti into small pieces instead of twirling, the way she smiled at him across the table, just being Hannah.

“So why do you think they didn’t have a will drawn up?”

“They weren’t really the kind of people who thought about paperwork. They were more about animals and hard labor. Simple. And they lived a simple life.”

“And you like that kind of life too.”

“I do.” She pushed her spaghetti around her plate. “I’d be happy to never go anywhere. I hardly ever do. I’m happiest on a horse.”

He could see that. And most comfortable.

“What about you? Where are you happiest?”

“At work.” His answer came easily, instinctively, though maybe not as true as it once was. They finished and he helped her with the dishes, him washing, her drying.

“Well, that was fun,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel.

She narrowed her eyes. “A playboy who likes doing dishes?”

“Playboy?” He slipped his arms around her back, trying hard not to think about how perfect it felt. How perfect she felt. “Who says I’m a playboy?”

“Um…” She looked like she wanted to backtrack. “Magazines. People.”

So she did know. “Your brothers?”

“Maybe.”

“And what about you? What do you say?”

“I say I wouldn’t know.”

“Do I look like a playboy?”

“Uh,
yeah.
”

She gave him such a
duh
look, he had to laugh. “You’re sweet. You know that?” Too sweet for a playboy like him, but he wasn’t leaving. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”

“Done what?”

“Had a woman cook for me. Eaten in her house.” He brought a lock of hair over her shoulder, the back of his hand grazing her chest as he rubbed the strands between his fingers.

“What do you usually do at a woman’s house?”

Realization dawned and the tension in the room returned tenfold.

“Hannah. Have you ever had a man over for dinner?”

“No. I mean…my brothers come over a lot.”

“So if they found me here, they’d probably kill me, huh?”

Her eyes went wide at the thought. Probably because it was entirely possible, but he laughed. “Don’t worry. I can hold my own.” And then some. “Plus, it would be totally worth it.”

Their eyes caught and held until she moved to turn away. He made a grab for her hand and gently pulled her back. She blinked up at him as he brushed his thumb slowly along the inside of her wrist. She had no idea what her pressing her teeth into that sexy lip did to him. The way her quick breaths made her chest rise and fall. So many women worked to get his attention and this one didn’t even have to try, didn’t know what to do with it when she did.

Her eyes darted past him into the next room. “I’m just…I’m not sure…”

“What to do next? I’ll show you.” He pulled her over to the couch, sat, and snagged the remote. “Sit.” He patted the spot next to him and propped his feet on the table. “Come on. Trust me.”

She obeyed, leaving way too much space between them.

“Closer.”

She scooted. Still not close enough but he’d get there, though he’d never worked quite this hard. Much to the dismay of his dick, he kinda liked it. “There you go. Feet up. Now I put my arm around you and we cruise channels.”

“We watch TV?”

“Nah. This is just a ruse to sit close to you.” He sank down and got more comfortable. “I like this couch. It’s kind of a guy couch.”

“My brothers bought it.”

He
would
zero in on a girl with an army of brothers. He had a flash of himself and Andrew sitting in the back of his truck, waiting to warn off Lizzy’s dates. Payback was a bitch. “So where are your brothers tonight?”

“Nick’s working. He’s an FBI agent.”

It just got better and better.

“Zach’s on call at the fire station, and Luke…I’m not sure.”

“And the fourth brother?”

“Dallas. Zach’s twin, not that they look alike. He’s…we’re not really sure where he is.” She picked at a thread on her jeans.

“You’ve got a lot of people watching out for you.”

“Yeah,” she said with a wry smile. “Sometimes too many.”

No. They might be a pain in his ass, but he was glad for it. Glad she had people looking out for her. He had a flash of what it might be like if that was his job. If it was, he’d be on guard for men like himself.

He took her hand and played with her fingers, marveling at how small they were. Her nails short and unpainted, not girlie in a flashy way, but utterly feminine. It couldn’t have been easy growing up without a mother. God help Lizzy if she’d been raised by her brothers.

He flipped through the channels and they agreed on a college basketball game. They replayed impressive shots, argued bad calls. He’d forgotten about the quiet times with a woman. Not chasing or enjoying what he’d caught, but just being. It was easy and natural when it should have been neither.

“I saw Lola today,” she said after a while. “She asked about you.”

Stephen slid his arm closer around her shoulder and stroked his fingers over her hair. He loved the feel of it and of her body leaning into his.

“You know…” she began, then stopped.

“What?”

“I just…I noticed how great you were with her, and you seemed…different with your nieces and nephews.”

Had it been that obvious? He made a sound in his throat and nodded slowly.

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know.” He studied the remote in his hand. “I guess I don’t see them much.” Not like he used to. Which explained nothing, since he’d never met Lola. Except maybe that’s what had made it easier.

“Why don’t you see them?”

Because he wasn’t the same man they’d known before? Because he never would be. Because the kinds of things he imagined doing didn’t make him fit to be around children. Or Hannah. Though when he was with her, his dark side seemed to pale a bit.

She angled her head back to meet his eyes. “They’re all you have, you know.”

“Yeah.” He knew. And they’d been close before. Very close. But they weren’t all he had. He had Trace, and though he may not
have
her, sitting here with Hannah was definitely…something. That very thought should have him running. “So what are the plans for the more you mentioned that you wanted to do here?”

“Not plans really, just ideas.”

“And?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe more than riding. More ways kids could be active outside, do their physical therapy without it feeling like work. They’ve already been hurt so much. Maybe more animals, rescue dogs, abused horses. A place they could all heal together.”

“Like things kids would normally do playing with their friends. Maybe a special playground with ramps and pulleys?”

She sat up to face him. “Yes. You get it. You
see
it.” She told him more about animals and kids, her eyes shining with excitement, her voice animated.

He loved seeing her happy like this and he did see it. The play set in Matt’s backyard with modifications. Ropes and harnesses for the rock wall and monkey bars, special swings. Plans began to form in his mind, and he decided then and there, she wasn’t going to lose this land.

She settled back against him again, resting her head in the space between his chest and shoulder. “What about you? Any dreams or have you already achieved them all?”

“I don’t know.” He’d made enough money, outwitted enough worthy opponents. There had to be something more.

“I think you’d be good at building. You know, the actual planning part. You see things others don’t, like where benches should be to watch sunsets.”

His chest tightened. He’d barely made mention of that at the boardwalk, practically made the comment under his breath. But Hannah had listened and remembered. More than that, she saw something good in the man he was now. Not wanting him to be anything other than what he was in this moment. What he might be in the future. Who did he have in his life who hadn’t known him before and wasn’t waiting for him to return to his old self? Not counting his flings between the sheets, who he made sure didn’t see
any
side of him.

They were quiet awhile and he combed his fingers through her hair, letting the cool silk of it fall over his hands. He imagined the soft pieces falling over his nude body, imagined she was naked against him. He continued the motion. Peaceful. Mesmerizing. Or as peaceful as he could get sitting this close to her, because he we also getting very hot. “I love your hair.”

She took hold of a section, wrapped it around her finger, and pulled it across her face.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Hide,” he said, covering her hand with his and easing it down.

“I’m not. I…don’t.” She let it go. “Bad habit, I guess.”

Leaning around to face her, he lifted up long strands and brushed them over his lips, under his nose. He breathed in the fruity scent, sighed at the baby softness. “I could get in the habit.”