Chapter 4

"Bones." The owner in question stepped onto the porch, shutting the screen door behind her. "When he was a puppy, he'd bring me skeletal remains of whatever animals he could find. Ergo, the name." She sat in the chair next to his and laid her head against the back, her eyes suspiciously red and puffy. She'd put a sweater on to ward off the chilly night.

Figuring she'd talk when she was ready, he continued petting the dog and took in what he could of his surroundings. Another ten years, and he might get used to the silence, the fresh air.

"Looks like you made a friend already." She turned her head and offered a sad smile.

He glanced at Bones again. Great name. "I always wanted a dog." Frowning, he snapped his mouth shut, unsure why he'd told her that.

"Your parents wouldn't let you have one?"

Considering his foster families claimed eating was a privilege, and those were the decent ones, he didn't respond.

"Do you have anything waiting for you back in Illinois? A job? Family?"

He had nothing but what he could fit on the back of his Hog. "A couple friends." Just Jim, actually. And as Nate's former juvie parole officer, Jim probably shouldn't be lumped in the friend category. If not for him, though, Nate would either be dead from gang wars or doing life behind bars. "I was thinking about staying in Meadowlark awhile."

"Have you ever ridden a horse or driven a tractor?"

Hell, he almost laughed. "No. I'm city bred. Why?"

She pulled a deep breath and set her rocker in motion, gaze distant. "Well, if you're going to work here, I guess I'll have to teach you a thing or two."

He stilled, staring at her profile. And here he'd thought no one could surprise him after all he'd seen. The plan had always been to hang around town, close by, and find some kind of job and roof over his head. For the rest of her life or his, he was going to watch over her from a respectable distance.

With an endearing smile that felled him, she looked him in the eye. "That is, if you're interested?"

"I can take an engine apart and put it back together. If need be, I can handle carpentry. Fix crap. I don't know anything about ranching, Olivia."

She shrugged as if his excuses were moot. "Like I said, I can teach you. I could use a handyman." She swallowed, and a tiny wrinkle formed between her brows. "I'd really like you to stay."

Just what in the hell had Justin put in his letter to his sister? Her entire demeanor had done a one-eighty. No longer wary, she looked at Nate dead on without a hint of unease or tension. Her mannerisms and appearance were so much like Justin's, Nate's heart thumped in a strange form of déjà vu.

He glanced at the dog again, thinking. Her offer solved his job issue and working on the ranch meant he could keep a closer eye on her. But he hated the idea of taking money from her, no matter how much work he did.

"You don't know anything about me." And if she did, she'd be changing her tune. "I could be a serial rapist or jewel thief."

"Are you?" The amusement in her tone had his lips curving.

"No." A murderer by shitty circumstance, former south side gang-banger, and all around loser, but he'd never stolen anything in his life. And he'd never force himself on a woman. "Still, you just met me."

"You said you were thinking of staying in town. Meadowlark is mostly a ranching community. We only have three-hundred residents. You'd be hard-pressed finding employment elsewhere."

And the closest city was Casper, a hundred miles west, forgetting the other small blips dotting the map. He sighed and stared ahead, debating. It was one thing to stick close by and another to be right on top of her. Worse, she'd have to train him how to do the damn work.

"Justin said I could trust you, that you were a good guy."

His gaze whipped to hers. Sincerity looked back at him.

Christ, she was gorgeous. Not in a runway manner or anything found in Hollywood, but in the classical, one-hundred percent natural form not often overturned just anywhere. Beauty like hers had no place in his life.

And damn. Nate wasn't a good guy and she couldn't trust him. To protect her, to never hurt her, to give up what remained of his pathetic existence to fulfill a promise? Hell yes. But he was the farthest thing from a saint as they came.

"If all that's waiting for you back home is a few friends, why not try things here?" She idly rocked the chair, her posture and tone not pushy or assertive. "It can't hurt. Honestly, it would be nice to have a friend of Justin's around. It's like having a piece of him here."

Shit. How did anyone say no to her? An hour in her presence, and he was ready to hit his knees, submit to her every whim.

"Okay." He cleared his rough throat. He'd have to figure something out regarding payment because no way was he taking money from her. He'd accrued enough in savings from the Army and had disability compensation checks coming every month. "If you're sure."

"Positive." The smile hit her baby blues this time, making his skin heat. "Welcome aboard."

"Thanks." There was a special place in hell for him. He deserved the burn. Grabbing the box at his feet, he passed it to her. "These are a few of Justin's things."

She traced her fingers over the engraving of a horseshoe on the lid. "I don't recognize this."

He didn't see how she could. It would've seemed like battery acid to a knife wound to return the last items her brother touched in a grocery bag. "I made the box. His stuff is in it."

She blinked at him. "You made this?" Her gaze dropped to her lap and she ran her hand over the lid again. "Handle carpentry," she mumbled.

"What?"

"You said you could handle carpentry. This is more than wielding a hammer or saw. The detail is fantastic."

Well, Jim had taught Nate to whittle as a teen. Idle hands and all that. Through the years, he'd played with various forms of wood and had gotten better, started crafting other crap. In the hospital in Germany, it was the only thing that had kept him sane.

She opened the box and sorted through a few photographs. When she pulled out a necklace, she choked on a sob. "I didn't know he had this." Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflecting in the moonlight. "I looked everywhere for it last Christmas. It was my mom's."

He glanced from the tiny heart pendant dangling on a gold chain to her and back again. Give him nuclear weapons, give him an assault rifle aimed at his head, but do not put Olivia Cattenach in tears near him. He had no experience with emotional females, and this one already had him wrapped around her pinkie.

Shame, remorse, and self-loathing ate his insides raw.

Rising, he glanced longingly at his motorcycle. "I'll, uh...give you time alone." He needed to find a place to crash tonight, anyway. "What time should I"

The next thing he knew, the box was on her chair and she was plastered against him. With her breasts crushed to his chest and every inch of her molded to him, he froze.

Slender arms wrapped around his waist, clutched his shirt, and she buried her face in his neck. The top of her head barely reached his chin as her tears dampened his skin. The scent of her shampoo and something elementalrain?swirled around them and...hell. Nothing before had the ability to arouse and soothe him in the same beat.

"Thank you." Her lips feathered his throat and he ground his teeth against an involuntary shudder of interest.

Lucifer was engraving Nate's name on a cage right now.

Since she seemed to need comfort and he was at fault, he carefully cupped the back of her head and set his other hand low on her back. At the contact, she curled into him, and the urgent desire to claim her warred with a fierce need to protect herfrom the world, from anything that would dare do her harm, from...him.

"Sorry." She stepped away and smiled, leaving him reeling at the loss. "Meeting someone who served with Justin and seeing his things again made me a little crazy." Her laugh was like smoke and twice as toxic. "Come on. Let's get you settled."

Settled? How? With a bottle of Jack and a mind bleach? Nothing short would do.

"Are you coming?"

He shook his head and found her holding the screen door open. "What?"

"Aunt Mae's quarters are off the kitchen. My suite's on the third floor, so you get your pick of three bedrooms on the second."

Come again? She wanted him to stay here? "I'll get a place in town."

Her grin sent the world around him in a tailspin. "Good luck with that. There's no motels."

The dog nudged Nate's hand as if to say, Move it, asshole.

Fine. He'd figure something out in the morning. What was one more crime in comparison to the plethora of others?