Wyoming Cowboy Protection

Then he’d dawdled. He was not a man accustomed to dawdling. He was also not a man accustomed to this. Every time something bad had happened in the first two months, he’d been the one to find it. Little attacks that had been aimed at the ranch.

Whatever had shaken Addie today was about her. What she’d seen. He could attribute her shakiness to being “silly” as she said, or even her previous “situation” with her ex, but he didn’t know what that was. Not really. He certainly hadn’t poked into it. He was not a poker, and Addie was not a babbler. It was why this whole thing worked.

But she’d eased into life at the Carson Ranch. So much so that Noah, on occasion, considered thanking Laurel and Grady for forcing his hand on the whole housekeeper thing. She’d made his life easier.

Except where she hadn’t. Those uncomfortable truths he’d had to learn about himself—he was lonely, he liked having someone under his roof and to talk to for as little as he did it. He liked having her and Seth in particular.

Which was his own fault. She didn’t carry any responsibility for his stupid feelings. Even if he’d had a sense of triumph over the fact Addie didn’t jump at random noises anymore, and she didn’t get scared for no reason. Both with the poison and the fence, she’d walked on eggshells for a few days, then gotten back to her old quietly cheerful self.

He’d never told her about the footprints and they’d never returned. So maybe he’d overreacted then. Maybe he’d been silly, but whatever had rattled her at the store was something real. Which meant they needed to talk about it.

But he wasn’t the talker. He was the doer. Grady or Ty went in and did all the figuring out, and Noah brought up the rear, so to speak. He was there. He did what needed to be done, but he was no great determiner of what that thing was. He left that to people who liked to jack their jaw.

Which was when he realized what he really needed. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and typed a text. When he got the response he’d hoped for, he put his phone away and got back to his real work. Not protecting Addie Foster and whatever her issue was, but running a ranch.

He worked hard, thinking as little about Addie as possible, and didn’t reappear at the main house until supper. He stepped up onto the porch, scraping the mud off his boots before entering.

The blast of warmth that hit him was an Addie thing. She opened the west-facing curtains so the sun set golden through the windows and into the kitchen and entryway every day. Whenever he stepped in, she had supper ready or almost.

Seth slammed his sippy cup against his high-chair tray and yelled, “No!” Noah was never sure if it was a greeting or an admonition.

Noah grunted at the boy, his favorite mode of greeting. He sneaked a glance at Addie to make sure she still had her back to him, then made a ridiculous face that made Seth squeal out a laugh.

Noah advanced closer, but he noted Addie was slamming things around in the kitchen and didn’t turn to face him with her usual greeting and announcement of what was for dinner.

It all felt a little too domestic, which was becoming more and more of a problem. He couldn’t complain about being fed nightly by a pretty woman, but sitting down with her and her kid for a meal every day was getting to feel normal.

Integral.

Noah hovered there, not quite sure what to do. Laurel had assured him via text she’d come in and figure out whatever was up with Addie after he’d contacted her, but Addie did not seem calmed.

He cleared his throat. “Uh. Um, need help?” he offered awkwardly.

She turned to face him, tongs in one hand and an anger he’d never seen simmering in her blue eyes.

She pointed the tongs at him. “You, Noah Carson, are a coward. And a bit of a high-handed jerk.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but Addie didn’t wilt. Not even a hint of backing down. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared right back at him. In another situation he might have been impressed at the way she’d blossomed into something fierce.

“Because?”

She huffed out a breath. “You went and told Laurel I was having a problem when I told you I was not.”

“But you were.”

“No. I wasn’t.” She pointed angrily at the table with the tongs. “Sit down and eat.”

He’d never seen much of Addie’s temper. Usually if she got irritated with him she went to some other room in the house and cleaned something. Or went into her room and played with Seth. She never actually directed any of her ire at him.

He didn’t know what to do with it. But he was hungry, so he took his seat next to Seth’s high chair, where the kid happily smacked his hands into the tiny pieces of food Addie had put on his tray before Noah walked in.

She slammed a plate in front of Noah. Chicken legs and mashed potatoes and some froufrou-looking salad thing. Usually she didn’t serve him, but he wasn’t one to argue with anyone, let alone an angry female.

She stomped back to the kitchen counter, then to the table again. She sat in a chair opposite him with an audible thump.

Her huffiness and sternness were starting to irritate him. He didn’t have much of a temper beyond general curmudgeon, but when someone started poking at him, things tended to... Well, he tended to avoid people who made him lose his temper. Addie’d never even remotely tested that before.

But she sure was now.

“I can handle this,” she said, leveling him with her sternest look. She shook out a paper towel and placed it on her lap like it was an expensive cloth napkin and they were in some upscale restaurant.

“What? What is this thing you can handle?” he returned evenly.

She stared right back at him like he was slow. “It’s nothing. That’s why I can handle it.”

Noah wanted to beat his head against the table. “You were visibly shaken this morning, and it wasn’t like it used to be.”

Her sharp expression softened slightly. “What do you mean?”

Noah shrugged and turned his attention to his food. “When you first got here you were all jumpy-like. This was not the same thing.”

She was quiet for a few seconds, so he took the opportunity to eat.

“I didn’t know you noticed,” she said softly.

He shrugged, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth and hoping this conversation was over.

He should have known better. Addie didn’t poke at him, but she also didn’t leave things unfinished. “I need you to promise you won’t call Laurel like that again. The last thing I need is well-meaning people...” She trailed off for a few seconds until he looked up from his plate.

Her eyebrows were drawn together and she was frowning at her own plate, and Noah had the sinking, horrifying suspicion those were tears making her blue eyes look particularly shiny.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll handle things. Don’t bring Laurel into this again.” She looked up, as if that was that.

“No.”

“What did you say?” she asked incredulously.

“I said no.”

She sputtered, something like a squeak emanating from her mouth. “You can’t just...you can’t just say no!”

“But I did.”

Another squeaking sound, which Seth joined in as if it was a game.

Addie took a deep breath as if trying to calm herself. “A man stood in my way and wouldn’t move. He said nothing, and he did nothing threatening. It was nothing. Calling Laurel, on the other hand, was something. And I did not appreciate it.”

“If what happened this morning were nothing, it wouldn’t have freaked you out. What did Laurel say?”

“She said you’re an idiot and I should quit and move far away.”

“No, she didn’t.” He didn’t believe Laurel would say something like that, but there was a panicked feeling tightening his chest.

“Noah, this isn’t your problem,” Addie said, and if he wasn’t crazy, there was a hint of desperation in her tone, which only served to assure him this was his problem.

“You live under my roof, Addie Foster. You are my problem.”

She frowned at him as if that made no sense to her, but it didn’t need to. It made sense to him. The people in his family and under his roof were under his protection. End of story.

Chapter Four

Addie ate the rest of her dinner in their normal quiet companionship. Quite honestly, she was rendered speechless by Noah’s gruff, certain proclamation.

You are my problem.

He had no idea what kind of problem she could be if she stayed, and yet no matter how many times she’d chastised herself to pack up and leave immediately, here she was. Cleaning up dinner dishes while Seth crawled in and out of the play tent she’d placed on the floor for him.

You are my problem.

She glanced at the door. Noah had stridden back outside right after dinner, which he did sometimes. Chores to finish up or horses or cows to check on, though sometimes she thought he did it just to escape her.

She sighed heavily. Noah made no sense to her, but she didn’t want to be his problem. He’d been nothing but kind, in fact proving to her that her sister’s determination after Peter that all men were scum wasn’t true in the least.

Noah might be hard to read and far too gruff, but he was the furthest thing from scum she’d ever met.

She glanced at Seth, who popped his smiling face out of the tent opening and screeched.

“Except for you, of course, baby,” Addie said, grinning at Seth. Growing like a weed. It hurt to look at him sometimes, some mix of sorrow and joy causing an unbearable pain in her heart.

He’d settled in so well here. Their routine worked, and what would she do when she left? Where else would she find this kind of job where he got to be with her? Even if she could find a job that would allow her to afford day care, they wouldn’t have the kind of security she needed. Seth always needed to be with her in case they needed to escape.

Like now.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She was in an impossible situation. She didn’t want to put Noah—or any of the Carsons—at risk of Peter, but if she ran away without thinking things through, she risked Seth’s well-being.

“No! No! No!” Seth yelled happily, making a quick crawling beeline for the door.

Addie took a few steps before scooping Seth up into her arms, a wriggling mass of complaint.

“He’s not back yet,” Addie said gently, settling Seth on her hip as she moved to the windows to close the curtains for the night. Sometimes, though, she and Seth stood here and watched the stars wink and shimmer in the distance while they waited for Noah’s last return of the evening.

It felt like home, this place. Even with a man whose life she didn’t share and was her boss living under the same roof. It was all so right. How could she leave?

And how can you stay?

She shook her head against the thought and closed the curtains. As she stepped back toward the kitchen to gather Seth’s tent, she noticed something on the floor.

An envelope. Odd. Dread skittered through her. Noah always brought the mail in when he came to grab lunch. He always put it in the same place. Which was most definitely not the floor.

Maybe it had fallen. Maybe someone had managed to shoehorn the envelope through the bottom of the door; most of the weather stripping was in desperate need of being replaced.

Her name was written in dark block letters. With no address. She swallowed, her body shaking against her will.

Seth wiggled in her arms and it was a good anchor to reality. She had a precious life to keep safe. Somehow. Someway. She was the only one who could.

She forced herself to bend down and place Seth gently on the floor. He crawled off for the tent, and with a shaking hand Addie picked up the envelope.

Slowly, she walked over to the table and sat down. She stared at it, willing her breathing to even and her hands to stop shaking. She’d open it, and then she’d know what her next move would have to be.

She forced one more breath in and out and then broke the seal of the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper. Feeling sick to her stomach, Addie unfolded the paper until she could see text.

I see you, Addie.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth, willing herself not to break down. She’d come this far. She couldn’t break down every time he found her. She just had to keep going, over and over again, until he didn’t.

She wanted to drop the paper. Forget it existed. But she didn’t have that option. She folded it back up and slid it inside the envelope, then pushed it into her pocket. She’d keep it. A reminder.

He wanted her scared. She didn’t know why that seemed to be his priority when he could have her killed and take Seth far away.

There was no point trying to rationalize a sociopath’s behavior. She knew one thing and one thing only: Peter wouldn’t stop. So neither could she.

If she’d been alone, she might have risked staying in one spot. Just to see what he would do. But she wasn’t alone. Now she had to protect Noah and the Carsons and Delaneys who’d been so kind to her.

She stood carefully, walking stiffly over to Seth. She pulled him out of the tent, much to his screaming dismay.

She patted his back. “Come on, baby. We don’t have much time.” She glanced at the windows where the curtains were now pulled. Was he out there? Waiting for her? Was it all a lure to get her to come out?

Were his men out there? Oh, God, had they hurt Noah? True panic beat through her. She could escape. She’d had enough close calls—a landlord letting her know a man had broken into her apartment, noticing a broken motel window before she’d stepped inside—to know she could find her way out of this one.

But what if they’d hurt Noah? She couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t let them...

Seth was bucking and crying now, and Addie closed her eyes and tried to think. She couldn’t rush out without thinking. She couldn’t escape without making sure Noah was okay, which was not part of any of the escape plans she always had mapped out in the back of her mind.

She should call Laurel. She hated to call Laurel after yelling at Noah for doing so, but this wasn’t about her pride or her secrets. It was about Noah’s safety.

Seth was still screaming in her ear, kicking his little legs against her. Addie retraced her steps, perilously close to tears.

She made it to the kitchen and fumbled with the phone. She was halfway through dialing Laurel’s number when the front door squeaked open. Addie dropped the phone, scanning the kitchen for a weapon, any weapon.

If she could make it two feet, there was a butcher knife. Not much of a weapon against a gun, but—

Noah stepped inside, alone, his dark cowboy hat covering most of his face as he stomped his boots on the mat. When he glanced up at her, her relief was short lived, because there was a trickle of blood down his temple and cheek.

Addie rushed over to him, Seth’s tantrum finally over. “Oh, my God, Noah.” He was okay. Bleeding, but okay. She flung herself at him, relief so palpable it nearly toppled her. “You’re okay,” she said, hugging Seth between them.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Noah grumbled, a hard wall against her cheek.

Which was when she realized she’d miscalculated deeply. Because he would know everything was wrong now, and she had no way of brushing this off as being silly.

* * *

HE FELT ADDIE stiffen against him and then slowly pull away. She did not meet his gaze, and she did not answer his question.

He was a little too disappointed she wasn’t holding on to him anymore. “Addie,” he warned, too sharp and gruff. But the woman affected him and he didn’t know how to be soft about it. “What is it?”

“You’re...bleeding,” she offered weakly, still not looking at him.

“Yeah, one of my idiot cousins left a shovel in the middle of the yard and I tripped right into the barn door. What’s going on? And don’t lie to me. Just be honest. I’m not in the mood to play detective.”

“Are you ever in the mood for anything?” she muttered while walking away from him, clearly not expecting him to catch her words.

“You’d be surprised,” he returned, somewhat gratified when she winced and blushed. Still expressly not looking at him. It grated. That she was lying to him. That today was one big old ball of screwy.

That when she’d thrown herself at him he’d wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her there. Worst of all, her and the kid.

“So, I just thought... I thought I heard something and—”

“Bull.” Did she have any idea what a terrible liar she was? It was all darting eyes and nervous hand-wringing.

“Well, I mean, maybe I didn’t hear anything, but when I was closing the windows there was a bird and—”

“Bull.”

She stomped her foot impatiently. “Stop it, Noah.”

“Stop feeding me bull and I’ll stop interrupting.”

She frowned at him and shook her head and heaved an unsteady exhale. She looked frazzled and haunted, really. Haunted like she’d been when she’d first gotten here, but he’d never seen her look panicked.

She walked over to the tiny kitchen, where Seth’s tent was on the floor. She crouched down and let the boy crawl inside. She watched the kid for a second before walking over to a drawer and pulling out a washcloth. She wet it at the sink, then moved to the cabinet above the oven where they kept a few first aid things and medicine. She grabbed a bandage before returning to him.

She stood in front of him, gaze unreadable on his. She stepped close—too close, because he could smell dinner and Seth’s wipes on her. That shouldn’t be somehow enticing. He wasn’t desperate for some domestic side of his life.

But she got up on her tiptoes and placed the warm cloth to where he’d scraped his forehead on the edge of the door. She wiped at the cut, her gaze not leaving his until she had to open the bandage.

Her eyebrows drew together as she peeled it from its plastic and then smoothed it over his forehead, her fingertips cool and soft against his brow. She met his gaze again then, sadness infusing her features.

“Noah, I have to leave.”

He studied her, so imploringly serious, and, yeah, he didn’t think that was bull. “Why?”

She glanced back at Seth, who was slapping his hands happily against the floor. “I just do. I can’t give any kind of notice or time to find a new housekeeper. I have to go now.” She glanced at the window, vulnerability written into every inch of her face that usually would have made Noah take a big old step back. He didn’t do fragile, not a big, rough man like him.

But this wasn’t about smoothing things over. This was about protecting someone who was very clearly in trouble.

“You’re not going anywhere. You just need to tell me what’s going on and we’ll figure it out.”

She looked back at him, expression bleak and confused. “Why?”

“Why?” He wanted to swear, but he thought better of it as Seth crawled over to his feet and used Noah’s leg to pull himself into a standing position. Addie needed some reassuring, some soft and kind words, and he was so not the man for that.

But he was the only man here, and from everything Laurel and Grady had told him, and from Addie’s own actions, Noah could only assume she’d been knocked around by Seth’s father and feared him even now.

Softness might not be in him, but neither was turning away from something a little wounded.

“You’re a part of the house. You’ve made yourself indispensable,” he continued, trying to wipe that confused bleakness off her face.

“No. No. No,” Seth babbled, hitting Noah’s leg with his pudgy baby fingers.

Noah scooped the kid up into his arms, irritated that Addie was still standing there staring at him all big-eyed and beautiful and hell if he knew what to do with any of this.

“You didn’t just take a job when you came here—you joined a family,” he said harshly. “We protect our own. That wasn’t bull I was feeding you earlier. That is how things work here. You’re under Carson protection.”

“I’ve never known anyone like you,” she whispered. Before that bloomed too big and warm and stupid in his chest, she kept going. “Any of you. Laurel, Grady. Jen, Ty. The whole lot of you, and it’s so funny the town is always going on about some feud and Grady and Laurel cursing everything, but you’re all the same, all of you Carsons and Delaneys. So good and wanting to help people who shouldn’t mean anything to you.”

“You’ve been here too long for that to be true. Of course you mean something to us.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, you’re a Delaney yourself by blood.”

She looked away for a second, and he couldn’t read her expression but Seth made a lunge for her. One of his favorite games to play, lunging back and forth between them. Over and over again.

Addie took Seth, but she met Noah’s gaze with a soft, resigned sadness. “I’m not safe here. More importantly, Seth isn’t safe here. We have to go.”

“Where?”

“What?”

“Where will you go that you’ll be safe?”

“I...” She blew out a breath, that sheen of tears filling her eyes, and if this hadn’t been so serious, he would have up and walked away. He didn’t do tears.

But this was too big. Too important.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, one of the tears falling over her cheek. “I’m not sure anywhere will ever be safe.”

Noah had the oddest urge to reach out and brush it away. He tamped that urge down and focused on what needed to be done. “Then you’ll stay.”

“Noah.”

“If you don’t know where to be safe, then you’ll stay here where a whole group of people are ready and willing to protect you and Seth.”

“I can’t put any of you in this, Noah. It’s dangerous.”

“Not if you tell us what we’re up against.” Not that it’d change his mind. He’d fight a whole damn army to keep her here.

Because she was useful. Like he’d said before. Integral. To his house. To the ranch. That was all.

“Promise me you’ll stay put.” They were too close, standing here like this. Even as Seth bounced in her arms and reached for his hat, their eyes didn’t leave each other.

But she shook her head. “I can’t, Noah. I can’t promise you that.”

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