Page 6 of Legends: Easton (Legends of Fire Creek #3)

Easton felt a familiar sense of relief when he turned his Jeep into the subdivision heading toward his house. Though he clung to his bachelorhood with both hands, his choice for a home didn’t fit his player image.

His two-story house offered more space than he needed, with three bedrooms, two baths, a great room, and a state-of-the-art kitchen. The lawn was expertly manicured, the front porch painting a homey picture with a swing and two roomy chairs that invited lazy lounging and good conversation.

The neighborhood was filled with families and older people who had lived there more years than he’d been alive. He was the youngest resident in the subdivision. The closest to him in age was a husband and wife in their forties with five kids spanning elementary school to college age.

When the sun went down, his neighbors stayed secure in their modest homes. Their lights went out at a decent hour in anticipation of an early morning of heading to work and school. The houses were dark and quiet for several hours by the time Easton carried his exhausted self home from the bar.

He wasn’t an obvious fit for this neighborhood, but he loved it.

His neighbors were kind. They looked out for each other and helped when needed.

He pitched in when he could, helping mow and care for the lawns of those who physically couldn’t tackle the manual labor.

In return, those who lived around him watched his house when he went out of town.

After a shift at the bar, he came home tired but too keyed up to sleep. The quiet of the neighborhood soothed him. He felt a peace living there that he’d rarely experienced in his life.

That peace dissipated when he turned onto his street, and the beam of his headlights illuminated a couple of figures ahead. As he drew closer, several impressions struck him at once.

I’ve never seen her before. She’s packing, small caliber, ankle holster. Damn, she’s gorgeous. That dog is huge. She shouldn’t be out alone this late at night. She’s hurt. Where did she come from?

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair as his Jeep drew closer to his house.

With smooth motions, he steered the Jeep onto the driveway and cut the engine.

Tilting his head up, he caught the image of the woman in his rearview mirror.

Hair pulled away from her forehead, the back curling around her face and neck.

A loose tank top dropped to the top of thighs encased in clingy spandex leggings.

The dog blocked his view of anything else, but he didn’t need a clear view to know she was curvy and sexy and someone he wanted to meet.

Stepping from the Jeep, he stood a few moments in his driveway, studying the neighborhood briefly before his gaze landed on her.

“Hi.” He spoke loud enough for his voice to reach her, but he tried to keep the volume low so as not to disturb his neighbors.

“Hi.” Even her voice was sexy, husky, and soft.

“Everything okay?” The awkward small talk had him grinning. This had to be the oddest situation he’d ever been in, and he’d had his fair share of weird situations.

“Just fine. Thank you.” She waved as if bidding him farewell.

But Easton wasn’t easily dismissed. “No offense, but I can tell it’s not fine. You’re hurt. What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I’ve got it handled.”

Easton held his hands up to show her he didn’t pose a threat, and he moved into the street, stopping when he stood in the middle, closer to her yet far enough away not to spook her or the dog, which watched intently while shielding the woman with its massive body.

“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I can see you need help. I live just right there. You don’t have to come inside, but let me help you at least get to my porch. You can call someone to pick you up, and we can check your injury.”

“So you bought the Davises’ house?”

He eyed her carefully. She talked like a native, but he didn’t recognize her. Growing up in a small town had its perks, such as knowing just about everyone who lived there. It’s possible she was a local, and their paths hadn’t crossed until now, but he doubted that.

If she was new to town, he was surprised he hadn’t heard about her. Fire Creek was usually bustling with gossip when someone moved to town. Plus, that wouldn’t explain her knowledge of the previous owners of the house. His fascination with her rose a notch.

“Not sure who the Davises are. I never met them. I bought the house from Rose and Dan Cunningham, actually. They wanted to downsize, so they moved last year to a retirement community in Weaver. Nice couple.”

“Right. The Cunninghams. I remember now.”

Easton wanted to ask his own questions about who she was and how she knew the former owners of his house, but his priority had to be getting her to sit down somewhere that wasn’t the street.

“Look. I get that you don’t know me, and you have to be cautious of strangers, even though you’re packing more heat than I am at the moment. So if you’re not comfortable being alone with me while you wait for someone to pick you up, I can take you to my neighbor’s house just right there.”

He pointed to Darby Anne Maxwell’s house with the pristine yard that he’d spent hours working on earlier in the week.

“When she sees the situation, she won’t mind us waking her up for help.

You’ll know five seconds after meeting her that you’re safe with her, and she’ll vouch for me. What do you say?”

Her dog kept its body situated in front of her, but it sat down on the sidewalk. He moved a bit closer, watching for the dog to get antsy that he was approaching its owner, but she only watched him without growling a warning.

“That’s not necessary.” The woman sighed. “And if she’s not already awake, there’s no way you’re going to get her up out of bed.”

After a moment, Easton dropped his head and shook it at how oblivious he had been. “You’re Darby Anne’s granddaughter. She mentioned you were coming for a visit. Does she know you went for a run this late at night?”

“What I do is none of your business.”

He cocked a brow. “It is when you need my help to make it to the house.”

“I don’t need your help. You offered it. There’s a difference.”

He shrugged as he moved forward a few more steps, his eyes cutting to the dog shielding her from him. “Fair point. Now that we’ve cleared that up, can I help you across the street? My porch or Darby Anne’s house. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“My ankle’s fine now that I’ve given it some time to rest. I can make it to Gran’s house on my own. Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.”

He crossed his arms over his chest as he studied her. Stubborn and feisty with an independent streak thrown in. If he didn’t already know she was Darby Anne Maxwell’s granddaughter, that would have been proof enough.

“Okay. You know your own body’s limits, so if you think your ankle is good, then I’ll just stay right here.”

“Right there? In the middle of the road? I’m not paid entertainment for you—”

“Easton.”

She scowled, her brows coming together in an adorable furrow. “What?”

“My name. I realized I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Easton Hargrove.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Hargrove. You’re no longer needed.”

“I’m afraid it’s not my bedtime, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world, and it’s a great night. I thought I’d enjoy being outside a bit longer.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a pain in the ass, Mr. Hargrove?”

Easton barked out a laugh. “I have three brothers. Being called a pain in the ass is a sign of love for me.”

“Of course, it is,” she grumbled. “Fine. You want to watch me walk home, I can’t stop you. And tell your brothers I respect the hell out of them for putting up with you.”

Oh, yeah, I like her. “Tell them yourself. We own the only bar in town. Come by and visit while you’re here. We can show you a good time.”

Thanks to the streetlight she stood under, he saw her eyes roll. She murmured something to her dog, and then she took a step off the sidewalk. The next step was more of a hobble, and her hand rested on her dog to steady herself.

He didn’t like the wince crossing her lovely face, but he resisted every instinct he had to help her. Another step. Another hobble. Another step. Another hobble, only this time, her leg buckled, but Easton was ready. He surged forward, supporting her injured side until she regained her balance.

“I know you don’t need the help,” he placated her. “But it strokes my ego to imagine I’m coming to a lovely lady’s aid. Humor me?”

He held her gaze. This close, he could see just how dark her irises were, almost as black as the night sky, but something brewed beneath the surface. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but he wanted to know. He needed to know.

When was the last time a woman drew him in this way? He couldn’t remember. Then she started moving, and he focused on helping her cross the street into her grandmother’s yard.

“At the back.” Her voice was clipped and strained.

He wondered how much pain she was in. She held up well, but he was certain she was wishing for some painkillers or a strong shot of whiskey right about now.

Her dog led the way to the backyard and paused at the door, watching them gradually make their way. The massive pet had yet to growl at him, but neither did it draw closer to him. As protective as it was of its owner, it was skittish of him.

“Nice dog.” He hoped to distract her from the pain she was feeling, but he wasn’t sure small talk would do the trick.

“She has her moments.”

She pulled away from him as they neared the door.

Reaching behind her, she withdrew a key and her phone.

After tapping her screen to use its light, she placed the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

He flipped a light switch as he helped her inside and maneuvered her to the kitchen table.

She eased onto a chair with a sigh of relief, and Easton dropped to a knee.

“What are you doing?” She pulled away when he touched her leg.