Page 28 of Long Hard Ride
Even though it’s been almost a week since that asshole was here, I still don’t like leaving Brooke alone in the house. Not that I expect Steve to come back. He’s long gone in Chicago, and he’ll be locked up for years.
I just don’t like the thought of Brooke being so vulnerable. Hell, I’m thinking of hiring an armed guard to protect the house when I’m not here.
Doc assured me she’s fine now. Fuck that piece of shit Steve for ever coming into her life. Old Chuck knew what he was talking about. He had every reason to be worried about that scumbag.
“Good morning.” Brooke’s silky voice makes me look up from my spreadsheet. It’s one of those hazy gray mornings. The light coming in from the window is almost like one of those photo filters. There’s a softness to her face and a sweetness about her I haven’t seen before.
“Morning. There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
She nods. “Thanks.” She eyes my computer. “Am I interrupting something important?
“No. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.” Keeping her solemn smile in place, she sits on the other end of the couch.
I save the spreadsheet and shut my computer down. “What’s up?”
“Thank you for helping me the last few days,” she says quietly, and, oh shit, I see her chin trembling. And her eyes are watering. Fuck, I don’t think I can take seeing her cry.
“No problem, darlin’. What’s a husband for?” I add, hoping to lighten the mood.
She looks down at the floor and shakes her head. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I mean, I was, I guess, with him. But I’m not usually so stupid.”
Tears tumble down her cheeks, and my heart is about to bust in two. “Hey,” I say, moving closer so I can sit beside her. “There’s no need to talk like that.”
Her teary brown eyes lock on mine and don’t let go. “Oh, Shane.” She bursts out crying and wraps her arms around me.
My heart leaps, and fuck if my cock doesn’t jump too, responding to the way her curves are pressed against me, her tits smashed against my chest.Christ, now?She’s crying in my arms and I’ve got a fully fledged hard-on.
“You’re going to be okay, baby girl.” I gently stroke her long silky hair. I let my fingers play with the ends and close my eyes. I breathe her in—oranges and sugary cake. “Don’t worry about anything.”
“Steve admitted it.” Brooke sniffles. “He put that crap in my drink because he wanted to make me pregnant so I’d marry him and he’d get the ranch too. He was afraid I’d say no.”
My heart stops.Fuck, fuck, fuck.Did that asshole screw her? Did he put his slimy cock inside my Brooke?
“Thankfully, he didn’t get very far before you walked in.”
My heart starts beating again. “Thank God,” I say, blowing out a breath of relief.
“Steve said he didn’t think it would hurt me, and that he only gave me a small dose. His excuse was we didn’t have much time.” Her words are muffled against my shirt. But I can hear them clearly between her sniffles, and Christ, I think I’m capable of murdering that piece of shit.
I snuggle her close, and she nuzzles into my shoulder. I never want to let this precious woman out of my sight again. Even if I can’t touch her again, she’s mine to protect. And with every breath I take, I swear I will.
“How could I have been so wrong about him?”
I pause, not wanting to make her feel worse. She told me he was the first real boyfriend she ever had. It makes me sick to think of him preying on someone so innocent and trusting. I tip her chin up so she’ll look me in the eye. “He’s a seasoned criminal, darlin’. He lies for a living. That’s his M.O. Don’t blame yourself.”
“No?” She sniffs. With her guard down, no makeup on and pouring her heart out to me, I’m just about convinced I’ve found an angel.
“No. And you never have to worry about him again.”
“I don’t?”
“Not for a second.” I wipe the tears off her cheeks with my thumb and cradle her face. “You have me now.” Before I know what I’m doing, I kiss the salty tears off her cheek, trail down to her ripe lips, and kiss her. The tenderness turns into a torrent. Waves of full-out want and dying need take over. A thousand what-ifs rage through my brain. What if Brooke was really my woman, not only to protect, but to have and hold—forever?
Brooke breaks the kiss. “But do I really have you, Shane?” she asks softly, reading my mind.
And Christ, I have to be honest. She’s too young to be mine. I’m old enough to know better. She’ll grow up and, in a few years, will probably marry a man her own age. “I promised your granddad I’d take care of you, and I will.”
