Page 6 of Cowboy’s Last Stand (His to Protect #1)
J ason slept later than usual because of the long night.
He woke with a start at eight, four hours after he’d drifted off.
He hadn’t been able to stretch out on the glider, and it was squeaky, so he’d slept on the wooden porch.
Not the most comfortable place, but it was dry and open to the air.
The sound of the rain had been pleasant.
He’d ached in multiple places and wallowed in a range of emotions.
Excitement. Dread. Guilt. Desire.
He didn’t know why he’d gone into the bar and pretended to be a guy on the make.
Well, he hadn’t really pretended. He did want her.
She was sexy and intriguing. Devoted to her son, and down on her luck.
He’d crossed the line within an hour of meeting her.
The choices he’d made last night had set him on a course that couldn’t easily be corrected.
After rolling up his sleeping bag, he walked to the fast-food restaurant he’d spotted the night before.
In the restroom, he studied his appearance.
Billy’s brass knuckles had left him with an impressive shiner.
A black spot marred about a quarter of his eye socket.
His temple was swollen and tender to the touch.
He had a sore jaw from another hit but no visible bruising and no loose teeth.
Billy’s first punch had surprised him. The others hadn’t.
Jason imagined Billy’s face looked worse than his today, and he probably had a bitch of a hangover.
He ordered some sausage-and-egg sandwiches to go.
Whistling, he carried the bag and two coffees back to Natalie’s house.
She’d told him he had to move on today. Before he left, he would tell her the truth.
He sat down on the glider and sipped his coffee, reluctant to wake her.
Not everyone was an early bird like him.
A tap on the window behind the glider captured his attention. He glanced over his shoulder at Natalie’s son.
“Who are you?” the boy asked, his words muffled by glass.
“I’m Jason. I’m a friend of your mom’s.”
The little boy weighed this information briefly before sliding the window open. There was no screen. “I’m Marcus.”
Jason gave him a fist bump. “Pleased to meet you.”
“You’ve got a black eye.”
“I know.”
“Did you get in a fight?”
“Yes.”
“With who?”
“Somebody mean.”
The boy seemed more interested in the fast-food bag, which bore an unmistakable logo. “Whatchu got?”
Jason removed two breakfast sandwiches from the bag before handing it over. There were two more sandwiches inside. “Help yourself.”
Marcus accepted food from a stranger with an ease that would give his mother nightmares.
He had curly hair, like Natalie, and an adorable little face.
He munched a sausage-and-egg sandwich with relish.
Jason wasn’t used to kids, especially kids without parents around.
He didn’t know what to say to Marcus, so he turned around and ate his breakfast in silence.
“My mom’s asleep,” Marcus offered.
“Hmm.”
“She sleeps late on the weekends. But I don’t.”
Jason pictured Natalie putting a pillow over her head to muffle the racket of an active five-year-old. He chuckled, feeling sorry for her.
“My grandma went to the old folks’ home. Now I have a new babysitter.”
“I’ve met her,” Jason said.
“She’s nice. Except when she looks at her phone and ignores me. She does that a lot, and she reads manga. Do you know what that is?”
Jason crushed his fast-food wrappers. “No.”
Marcus explained it in a way that didn’t make sense, which was fine because Jason didn’t care.
“Listen up,” Jason said, interrupting him.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to fix your screen door, but I need some tools.”
Marcus finished his breakfast quickly. “OK.”
“Does your mom have any tools? A screwdriver, maybe?”
The boy’s face lit up with inspiration. “My grandpa’s toolbox is around here somewhere. He died a long time ago.”
“Then he won’t mind if I use his tools.”
“Nope,” he said. “My dad’s dead too.”
A spear of sadness pierced Jason’s heart. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I don’t remember him that good.”
Jason regretted the deception he’d started last night.
He also felt guilty about coming on to Natalie.
She was a beautiful woman, and he was strongly attracted to her, but he shouldn’t have acted on it.
Maybe the two beers had loosened his inhibitions.
He’d never been much of a drinker, even before the head injury.
Since then, he’d avoided alcohol altogether.
“Mom says I’m the man of the house now,” Marcus said.
“That’s a pretty big deal.”
“Do you have a dad?”
“I do.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jeff.”
Seeming pleased with the exchange, Marcus wandered off.
Jason doubted he’d bring back a toolbox.
He sipped his coffee and contemplated the neighborhood.
The trees were leafy and green. Last night’s rain had washed the streets clean.
It was a pleasant sixty degrees in late fall.
He wondered if winter ever brought frost or snow here.
After a few minutes, he rose from the glider and examined the screen door. The hinges were rusty, but the frame looked solid. Marcus opened the front door, surprising him. He had a red toolbox and a gap-toothed grin.
“Found it,” he said, triumphant.
Jason rifled through the old metal box, which had everything he needed to do the repair. “Nice.”
“Can I help?”
Jason wasn’t sure about this. He gave the kid a quick inspection. “You don’t look ready to work, bud.”
“Why not?”
“You’re barefoot, in pajamas.”
“I have shoes.”
“Put them on.”
He sat down in the doorway and donned a pair of tennis shoes with Velcro straps. Then he emerged on the porch, his expression eager. Jason cleaned and oiled the hinges while the kid hovered close to him, huffing egg-biscuit breath.
“What can I do?” Marcus asked.
“Find me a Phillips head screwdriver.”
He searched through the tools for a moment and then held up the wrong kind.
“No. That’s a flathead.”
Marcus found three different screwdrivers. Jason selected the best one, thanking him. The next step was attaching the door, and he actually needed someone to hold it in place. Marcus did an admirable job. They were finished in twenty minutes.
“Let’s fix something else!” Marcus said.
“What else needs fixing?”
“Mom’s car,” he said. “Where is it?”
“It died near the park last night,” Jason said. “Can you find her keys?”
“Sure!”
After Marcus delivered the keys, they walked down the street together.
Jason let the kid sit in the driver’s seat while he pushed the vehicle the short distance home.
Marcus was delighted to assist in this grown-up business.
Jason slowed the VW bug to a stop at the curb in front of her house and held it steady while Marcus climbed out.
Then he popped the hood to look it over.
The pale blue bug was an older model, almost vintage.
Marcus stared into the dusty engine compartment with him.
“What do you think?” Jason asked.
“I can’t tell,” Marcus said sagely.
“Was it making strange noises?”
“Yep.”
“Like what?”
“First it went screeee , and then it went click, click, click .”
“Huh. Bring me a flashlight, will you?”
He scampered back to the porch and retrieved a flashlight from the toolbox.
Jason searched the interior for the alternator belt, which could cause screeching noises as it wore down.
After it snapped, the engine wouldn’t even turn over.
He located the belt but couldn’t access it.
He’d have to take the engine apart to get a better look.
“Can you fix it?”
“Probably, but I should ask your mom first.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s the boss.”
Marcus didn’t disagree. “Do you want to play video games?”
He shook his head. “I’m no good at those.”
“Why?”
“Slow thumbs.”
Marcus frowned at the imaginary excuse. Before he could ask more questions, Jason said, “You go ahead without me.”
“OK,” he said, and clambered off.
While he was gone, Jason gave the car a closer inspection. He checked the oil and fluid levels. It needed a tune-up, and several of the hoses were cracked. The battery looked new. Alternator problems could drain a new battery, however.
“Did you come into my house?”
Jason jerked at the sound of her voice and almost slammed his head against the underside of the hood. Natalie was standing beside him in a yellow chenille robe. Her feet were bare, her natural hair in disarray.
“My son said you gave him breakfast.”
Jason wiped his hands on a rag as he considered his response.
She looked lovely, even with an annoyed expression.
The color of the robe set off her caramel-smooth skin, and the ribbed fabric appeared soft to the touch.
He wondered what she wore underneath it.
Although the outfit wasn’t meant to impress, the casual style appealed to him.
It reminded him of the comforts of home and the pleasure of female companionship.
With some difficulty, he returned his attention to the topic at hand. He’d given her son breakfast, and she wasn’t happy about it. Maybe the kid had food allergies. “I didn’t come in, but I did give him a sandwich.”
“How?”
“He opened the window. I passed it through.”
She glanced at the window, which was still open. “You knocked on the glass?”
“No. He did.”
She shook her head, sighing. “That boy will be the death of me.”
“We fixed the screen door. You need a new screen for that window too.”
“I need coffee,” she mumbled.
He gestured to the extra cup on the porch railing. “I brought you one.”
She moved toward it like a lifeline and chugged a good amount. “What are you doing to my car?”
“Checking it out.”
“Are you a mechanic?”
“I was on my first tour.” He’d been recruited for the bomb squad because of his ability to take engines apart and troubleshoot electrical problems. He’d agreed to a second tour as an EOD tech because he’d wanted to see more action.
He’d seen more action.