Page 13 of Cowboy’s Last Stand (His to Protect #1)
She cringed, though it wasn’t unexpected.
Marcus found a box of keepsakes that had belonged to her grandfather.
It included a set of tin soldiers, a collection of marbles, and a machete.
She took away the machete before he could unsheathe the blade.
He climbed into the bathtub to play with the tin soldiers.
Jason had tucked a mini flashlight into his back pocket. He pointed the beam into dark corners and under the sink. He lifted the edge of a stained piece of carpet. When he’d completed his perusal, he returned to her side. “I’ll start with the good news.”
“Shoot.”
“There’s hardwood flooring underneath this old carpet. It might be damaged, but I think it’s salvageable.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“I’m not done with the good news yet. Most of the problems appear to be cosmetic rather than structural. This place needs a lot of work, and it needs to be cleaned, but you might not have to spend that much.”
“I can’t afford to spend anything.”
“Think of it as an investment. The income you could get from renting this apartment is probably more than you make at the bar every month, and you wouldn’t have to deal with drunk idiots.”
She opened her mouth to object and then closed it.
He sounded as if he disapproved of her second job, which irritated her.
He didn’t understand what it was like to be a single parent.
The Night Owl gig paid well, and who was he to judge?
He wasn’t her boyfriend. On the other hand, she was tired of losing sleep every weekend, and Marcus needed better supervision than London provided.
“The bad news is about the plumbing, which is never cheap. I can do the repairs, but new pipes and replacement parts cost money.”
She glanced out the dusty window to the garage.
That was another space full of junk. Her grandfather had a vintage truck parked there under a tarp.
She’d been meaning to have it hauled away.
She turned back to Jason and contemplated the stacks of boxes.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to clean up the place. ”
His eyes glinted with excitement. “If we remove the furniture and rip up the carpet—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Slow down, cowboy.”
He went quiet, but his body language communicated impatience. She could tell that he wanted to fix things immediately.
“Let’s take it one day at a time.”
After a pause, he said, “The railing is a safety issue. It can be done in a few hours.”
She nodded her approval. “What will that cost me?”
“Nothing if I use the lumber from the garage.”
“Perfect,” she said.
Marcus poked his head out of the bathroom. “Can I help?”
Jason shrugged, so Natalie didn’t object.
She watched them for a few minutes. Jason allowed Marcus to drag pieces of the old wood railing away after he’d removed them.
Then they measured and marked the new lumber.
She went inside and covered her hair with a scarf before returning to the upper apartment.
She studied it from a fresh perspective.
Jason had a point about the rental income.
This was a university town, so she wouldn’t have trouble finding a tenant.
She might even be able to get a home improvement loan.
Since her grandmother’s stroke, she had power of attorney.
She didn’t need anyone’s permission to fix up the space or even sell the property outright.
When she heard the buzz of an electric saw, she looked out the window. Her son was standing at a safe distance while Jason cut the lumber. They were both wearing safety glasses. It still made her nervous, the way helping Marcus learn to ride a bike made her nervous.
She took a deep breath and started going through the boxes.
She made a stack to give away, a stack to throw away, and a stack to keep.
The throwaway stack grew and grew. Her grandparents had kept old magazines that smelled of mice and mildew.
She lifted a box to find a trio of baby rodents.
Startled, she let out a shrill scream and stumbled backward.
She went sprawling into a dusty pile of newspapers.
Jason bounded up the steps in about three seconds. Marcus was hot on his heels. She was able to get to her feet before they reached her.
“What happened?”
“I saw a spider,” she lied, moving away from the mouse nest. Marcus would want to keep the little creatures in a terrarium in his room. She couldn’t handle that.
“Black widow?” Marcus asked, hopeful.
“Yep. It crawled away like this.” She tickled his ribs to make him giggle. “Are you boys ready for lunch?”
Marcus nodded and showed her the work they’d done on the railing.
It was misting again. She walked down the steps with caution while Marcus chattered away.
He wanted to stay outside with Jason. She made a quick meal of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.
They ate at the kitchen table as rain began to fall in earnest.
“Are we going to work in the rain?” Marcus asked.
Natalie shook her head. “You need a nap.”
“I don’t need a nap,” Marcus argued. “I’m five.”
“Have some quiet time in your room, then.”
He trudged away with reluctance. She’d discovered that giving him the option to nap was more effective than insisting upon it.
“Is he slowing you down?” she asked.
“I don’t mind,” Jason said, eyeing her sandwich. “Are you going to finish that?”
She wasn’t, so she gave it to him. She also warmed up a generous slice of pie, which he rapidly demolished. When he looked up from his empty plate, she smiled.
“You might go broke letting me work for food,” he warned.
“I’ll take my chances. Tea?”
“Sure.”
She made two cups.
“Does it rain a lot here?”
“Not really. We need more rain.”
“Does it ever snow?”
“Very rarely.”
“Missoula’s probably buried.”
“Do you miss it?”
After a short pause, he said, “It’s hard to sleep outside in a blizzard.”
She noticed that he hadn’t really answered her question. “When Marcus has quiet time, I usually try to read.”
His brows rose. “You read?”
“I work at a library. Of course, I read.”
“Are you a librarian?”
“Library assistant.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Two years of college.” Plus, a decent paycheck, better hours, and full benefits.
He nodded his understanding. “I have a book with me. I read at night or when the weather’s too bad for walking.”
“What are you reading?”
“ The Road by Cormac McCarthy.”
“That’s a fun story.”
He chuckled at her sarcasm but didn’t defend his selection. He clearly enjoyed human suffering, in fiction and real life.
She went to retrieve her book. He fished his out of his backpack. They sat on the glider, side by side, sipping tea. She was hyperaware of his presence—his body heat, his lean physique, his even breathing. She could smell her soap on his skin, along with a woodsy, masculine scent that was all him.
As soon as the rain stopped, Jason went back to work on the railing, and Natalie got Marcus ready for a trip to the cemetery.
It was about twenty minutes away, near Fort Cavazos.
She’d ordered a bouquet, which she picked up on the way.
Marcus placed the flowers on Mike’s grave while Natalie held his hand.
She cried every time they came, so Marcus was used to it.
He always hugged her until the tears dried up.
Today, he ended the embrace early. He was eager to get back home to help Jason.
Natalie felt melancholy as she drove the short distance back to Last Chance. It was strange to have a guest in her house on this particular holiday. Last year, she’d spent half the day crying. This year, she’d been too distracted to dwell on her loss.
For the VFW dinner, she chose a soft jersey dress in navy blue.
The spaghetti straps made it inappropriate for cool weather, so she rifled through her closet for a nice sweater.
She had a plum-colored cardigan in the back, next to a men’s shirt.
She hadn’t put the shirt away with Mike’s things because he’d never worn it.
She draped the cardigan over a chair and studied the shirt. The blue chambray button-down would probably fit Jason. Setting it on the bed, she arranged her hair into soft curls and applied careful makeup. She put on a pair of leather sandals before she went outside.
When he saw her, his jaw dropped. “You said casual.”
“This is casual.”
“You’re wearing a dress, and you look…”
“What?”
“Nice,” he said. “You look nice.”
“Thank you,” she said, wondering what word he’d intended to say before he censored himself.
She glanced down at her dress, which hugged her curves.
The thin straps left her shoulders and most of her back bare, but it didn’t reveal any cleavage.
She didn’t really have cleavage because she was barely a B-cup.
“Is it time to go?”
“Almost.”
He put away the tools before they went inside. He went into the bathroom to freshen up. When he came out, she noticed his shirt was torn at the elbow, and the bandage on his temple had loosened. He touched it, swearing under his breath.
“I’ll put a new bandage on,” she said. “Sit.”
He sat in the kitchen while she removed the butterfly bandage with an alcohol wipe.
He winced in discomfort, but the wound underneath was already healing.
She applied a small adhesive strip that didn’t quite match his skin.
As she smoothed the edges, she realized how close they were.
Her breasts were mere inches from his face.
Apparently, they weren’t too small to capture his interest.
She stepped away, self-conscious. “There.”
His gaze jerked upward.
“I have a shirt you can borrow.”
“Whose shirt?”
“It’s never been worn.”
He seemed reluctant, so she gestured for him to follow her to the bedroom.
The blue chambray shirt was on the hanger, tags still attached.
She held it up for his inspection. His eyes became hooded as he stepped forward to check the size.
With jerky motions, he unbuttoned his own shirt and stripped it off right there.
She didn’t know why she hadn’t expected this.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his chest, which erased all thoughts of Mike.
All thoughts, period. The smooth, sculpted expanse was the stuff dreams were made of.
He had taut pectoral muscles and hard biceps.
His stomach looked as flat and tight as a drum.
As her gaze drifted over his corded ribcage, she noticed the spectacular bruise on his left side.
“My God,” she said, reaching out to touch him. The discolored area was bigger than her hand. His flesh was warm beneath her fingertips, rippling with life. He tensed at the contact. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s fine.”
She palpated his ribs gently to check for tender spots. He’d claimed there were no fractures, but he wasn’t a doctor. His stone face revealed nothing. “You should have been resting to let this heal.”
“I don’t rest well.”
“Are you sure it’s OK?”
He covered her hand with his to still her motion. She could feel the drum of his heartbeat, the heat of his body, and the rough press of his callused palm. His voice was a low rumble. “I’m sure.”
She removed her hand and stepped back. A flush suffused her cheeks as she realized he was aroused by her touch.
She was aroused too. Her nipples tightened into hard points, and her pulse fluttered in her throat.
When she raised her fingertips to her neck, his eyes darkened.
She imagined his open mouth there, hot and searching.
She imagined his hands on her breasts, cupping her warm flesh.
Instead of throwing her down on the bed and ravishing her, he picked up the shirt.
She donned the cardigan to hide her body’s reaction to him.
He shoved his arms through the sleeves and snapped the buttons.
She’d bought it for Mike, of course. The garment fit well across Jason’s shoulders, but the sleeves were an inch too short.
He solved this problem by rolling up the cuffs to reveal his strong forearms.
“Should I tuck in it?”
She stepped back to study him from head to toe. His jeans were fine, his boots a basic dark brown leather. They were worn but clean. The pale blue shirt contrasted nicely with his jet-black hair and rugged features. “Either way. You look good.”
“I have a black eye,” he pointed out.
“It’s hardly noticeable,” she lied.
He returned to the porch and dug a case out of a side pocket of his backpack. Unfolding a pair of black-framed glasses, he put them on his face. The transformation was Clark Kent-like. Her library-loving, bookworm heart melted.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded, swallowing hard. The glasses looked smart, plus they disguised his injury. “Are those reading glasses?”
“They’re for driving, actually. I rarely use them.”
“I like them.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They stared at each other for a long moment of mutual admiration.
“What were you going to say earlier instead of nice?” she asked.
His brow furrowed.
“You said I looked nice.”
“Oh.”
“What were you going to say?”
“Sexy,” he admitted.
Heat warmed her cheeks again. “Should I wear a different dress?”
“Are you kidding?”
She took that as a no. His frank gaze made her skin tingle and her toes curl. She shouldn’t have fished for the compliment. It would echo in her ears all night long, and she’d have even more trouble curbing her desire.
Flustered by the thought, she went inside to get Marcus.