Wyatt moved alongside Violet toward the big red barn behind Mrs. Ames’s home. He worked to keep his thoughts on important things, like what Mrs. Ames had been afraid of when she’d hired him, and not things like whether or not the wedding rings in the kitchen belonged to the intriguing brunette at his side.
Violet stopped at the back porch, standing with Maggie under a small cone of light thirty feet from the barn. She waved a hand in Wyatt’s direction, indicating he should go on without her. The look on her face said the sleeping baby on her hip was Violet’s priority. “There’s a pull string just inside the door that’ll give you some light. Not enough to fill the whole barn, but it’s something.”
Wyatt gave the ladies a long look before reluctantly leaving them behind. He’d already cleared the perimeter. He didn’t sense anyone else nearby. They would be fine, and he wouldn’t be long.
A few steps into the barn, a thin beaded-metal chain bounced against his forehead. He tugged it and squinted against the sudden burst of light. As promised, it wasn’t enough to explore the entirety of the cavernous structure, but it was all he needed. The ladder in question stood just a few yards away, blood staining the earthen floor at its base.
Wyatt accessed the flashlight app on his cell phone and searched the ground more carefully, following a line of blood to the small puddle a few inches from the nearest ladder, making it obvious that someone had wanted people to believe she’d been on the rickety-looking structure when she fell, but that wasn’t the case. She’d fallen where the line of blood began and had been moved to the ladder, where she continued to bleed until someone had found her. Aside from the blood trail, the dusty ground had been heavily trodden for an unused barn, probably evidence of whoever had discovered her and the emergency team who had taken her away.
“Do you see this?” he asked softly. His senses pinged like rapid fire. Violet’s nearness charged the air between them. He didn’t need to look to know she was there.
Violet gasped, then shuffled closer, having given up her hiding spot around the corner. “How’d you know I was here?”
“It’s my job.” And he had a feeling he’d sense her anywhere now that they’d met. Never mind the fact that the sweet scent of her so easily knotted his chest and scrambled his thoughts.
Training had surely played a part in his ability to track her movement without looking her way, but never in his life had he been so acutely aware of any woman, or so distracted by the question of where she placed her perfume. Did she dab it on her wrists, the curve of her neck? Along the valley between her breasts?
“Impressive,” she said, sounding as if she meant it.
Wyatt had always been astute, but the army had honed his natural talents to a lethal point. Those skills had been incredibly useful as a soldier but were an unyielding burden as a civilian. Hearing every sound. Knowing every lie. Those were the reasons he’d rarely been at ease since his return stateside and the catalyst for opening his private security firm. That and the fact that he was good at what he did, maybe even the best. Wyatt read people, and he protected them.
Currently, Violet seemed to be deciding if she could trust him. The answer was a resounding yes, and he’d prove that to her with time. The shifting glances she slid between him and the open barn door suggested she was also wondering whether or not she could outrun him.
She could not.
Wyatt lowered the beam of his light to the stained floor. “Who found her?”
“Ruth,” Violet said. “A friend of hers I ran into at the hospital. Grandma had invited her for lunch, but didn’t answer the door, so Ruth looked out here and saw the barn door open.”
Wyatt considered the new information. “Mrs. Ames broke her hip and wrist? Did she receive any injury that might have resulted in this kind of blood loss?”
Violet’s skin went pale. “She hit her head. They gave her a bunch of stitches.” Her free hand traveled absently to the crown of her long wavy hair, as if she might feel the sutures there.
A head injury explained the blood.
Wyatt extinguished the light and tucked his phone back into his pocket. “If your grandma was on the ladder when she fell, how do you suppose she hit her head only a few inches away from the base?”
Violet’s brows knit together. Her attention dropped back to the shadow-covered floor. “She couldn’t have.”
“Right. With her body on the ladder, her head would’ve hit farther away, unless she fell headfirst from the loft, which would’ve done more than break her hip and wrist.” He pulled his father’s Stetson from his head and rubbed exhausted fingers over short-cropped hair. “I think she fell over there.” He pointed to the wide start of a narrow line of blood, then swung his finger toward the ladder. “Someone moved her closer to the ladder, probably hoping whoever found her would jump to conclusions, which they did.”
“So she didn’t fall off the ladder.”
“I don’t think so, no.”
Violet’s beautiful face knotted. Her blue eyes snapped up to lock on his as recognition registered. “Grandma hired you because she thought she needed protection.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“From who?”
He placed the beloved hat back onto his head. “She didn’t say.”
Violet’s dark brows tented. “Do you think whoever it was might have done this to her?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
* * *
VIOLET WATCHED AS Wyatt grabbed the aged wood of the barn ladder and gave it a shake before climbing into the old loft. She’d never met anyone as big as Wyatt and watching him climb the ladder conjured memories of the giant on Jack’s beanstalk. Her grandma was wise to choose him. If anyone could protect her, this would be the guy. Everything about him screamed military training. She recognized his rigid stance and searching gaze. She’d seen similar traits in Maggie’s father, though the caution and compassion in Wyatt’s voice had never been present with her ex. Violet’s heart panged with regret at the unbidden memories rushing to the surface. She’d been naive to trust her heart so easily, and look where that had gotten her.
Maggie wriggled and Violet kissed her soft brown curls. She lifted a hand to shield her sleeping face from another round of dust falling from the loft. At least she’d gotten Maggie from the carnage of her train wreck relationship. Awful as the love loss had been at the time, she’d gladly endure it again if that meant she’d get to be Maggie’s mama.
Violet stepped away from the growing cloud of rustled dirt floating in the air. Soft scents of aged wood and dried hay slipped into her senses, sending a flood of nostalgia over Violet’s anxious limbs. “I used to spend hours in that loft,” she said, letting her voice carry to Wyatt. “Grandpa died when I was in middle school, and Grandma sold the animals, but I still came out here.” Trying to feel near him.
The creaking boards went silent. Wyatt had stopped to listen. “What was up here then?”
“Just hay and me.”
“What did you do?”
She smiled at the massive Wyatt-shaped shadow on the wall. He must’ve gotten his cell phone light out again. “Read. I was going to be a pilot like Amelia Earhart, or a Nobel Prize–winner like Marie Curie. Maybe a scientist like Jane Goodall.” Violet had bored her grandma to death recounting all the things she’d learned up there.
“Are you?” Wyatt’s deep tenor voice carried through the quiet air.
Violet chuckled, bouncing Maggie gently against her chest. “What? A pilot or Nobel Prize–winner or scientist? No. I’m a fifth-grade language arts teacher.” As it turned out, Violet enjoyed telling others the things she knew more than she wanted to go off and do them herself. She only wished her grandpa had lived to see her with her class, sharing the stories he’d loved with them. He would’ve been so proud. And he would have loved Maggie.
Wyatt’s steady footfall moved back toward the ladder. “There’s a good-sized bare spot up here. Looks like either something pretty big was kept here or someone was clearing a spot for some reason.”
“How would anything get up there?” That was the whole conundrum, wasn’t it? “Grandma couldn’t carry anything up a ladder, especially something large.” And they’d already established that she hadn’t fallen from the ladder. She’d probably never even been on it.
Wyatt’s long legs swung into view, and he returned to her side by way of the creaky rungs. “Take a look.” He brushed his hands against his thighs, then turned his camera to face her. A picture of the dispersed hay overhead centered the screen.
“It looks like someone was just kicking it around to me,” Violet said. “The whole floor is dusty. The space would be cleaner if something had been there long.”
Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, then the thick black stubble over his cheeks. “You’re right. I should’ve seen that.” He pressed his fingertips against heavy-lidded eyes. “I know you’ve had an awful day, and you’re still deciding what to think of me, but can I trouble you for some coffee? I’ve got enough work to keep me busy a while, and I’ve been on the road all day.”
Violet pulled her gaze to the open barn door and back. She’d checked out Wyatt’s company website on her cell phone, using the business card he’d given her, while she’d waited briefly outside. Under the tab with details about the protectors for hire, she’d found photos of Wyatt. Posing in his dress greens. Running drills in fatigues. He seemed to be who he said he was. One founder of a private protection firm in Lexington. “What kind of work do you have to do tonight?”
He dropped his hands to his sides, then stuffed long fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t see any signs of forced entry inside the home, so I’d like to replace the locks and dead bolts for starters, install motion lights at the front and back of the house, and add chains on the main entries.”
“You’re doing all that tonight?” Violet squeaked. Did he think that whoever had broken in and knocked her down might come back? A shiver coursed over her and she held Maggie tighter.
“Basic precautions,” he said. “I’ve got everything I need in my truck, and a copy of your grandma’s contract if you want to see it. Given the circumstances, I think she’d allow that.”
Suddenly, the stranger before her seemed like the safer, handsomer of two unknowns. Violet was certain she’d sleep better with new locks and a trained military man under her roof. Besides, it was after ten already, and Maggie never slept past six. If Violet didn’t get to bed soon, she wouldn’t get much sleep.
Wyatt ducked his head. “I don’t mind sleeping in my truck and starting tomorrow if that makes you more comfortable.” He moved toward the string for the light and slowed for Violet to pass. “You’ve been through a lot today, and I’ve slept in that truck more often than my bed this month. I’d still like to get the new locks on first.” His cheek ticked up in a lazy half smile before he shut it down.
Violet stopped to face him. She chewed her lip in indecision. “Why did Grandma choose you?”
“I’m the best.”
Violet made a show of rolling her eyes, silently thankful for his efforts at levity given the day she’d had. “Humble, too.”
Wyatt pulled the light string, delivering them into darkness as they made their way back outside. “I advertised strategically. Specifically to women’s groups, yoga studios, churches that had events likely to be attended by elderly civilians. Word spread like wildfire. I suppose she found me that way.”
Violet narrowed her eyes. “So you targeted women and old folks.”
He nodded confidently. “Statistically they’re the most common targets for violent crimes, harassment and stalking. I wanted to make a difference, not play bodyguard for some rich jerks.”
Violet mulled the answer, impressed yet again. “You were planning to stay with Grandma while you’re in River Gorge?”
“That was the agreement,” he said. Wyatt matched his pace to hers as they walked back across the lawn to Grandma’s home. “I have a week blocked off on my calendar for this, but I can stay longer if something changes. Mrs. Ames only said she had something to take care of, and she wanted the freedom to do it without having to watch over her shoulder.” He grinned, sneaking a quick look in Violet’s direction. “I was going to be her nephew, visiting from Lexington.”
Violet rubbed the creases she felt gathering on her forehead. That cover story made Wyatt her relative, and it didn’t say much about her, given the things she’d already thought about him. Like how nice he might look without a shirt. Or pants.
She turned her heated cheeks away.
It wasn’t like her grandma to meddle, so Violet could only assume that whatever was going on had been dropped into her lap. And it must be something big to force Grandma’s involvement and require a bodyguard.
She slowed at the front porch and turned to face Wyatt. “Will you be able to find out if her fall was an accident?”
“Yes.”
“And if it wasn’t, will you find out who hurt her?”
He dipped his chin in sharp confirmation. “I won’t leave town till I do.”
Violet evaluated the giant before her. He certainly seemed legit, and her grandma had chosen him. She’d even trusted him to stay with her while she did whatever it was that she was doing. “Okay,” she said, resting her cheek on top of Maggie’s head. “You can stay, and you don’t need to sleep in your truck.” She marched up the steps before she changed her mind. “I’ll make up the couch and put on the coffee.”
They went their separate ways then. Wyatt to his truck for his bags. Violet to set up a portable crib for Maggie in her grandmother’s bedroom. She returned a few minutes later with a baby monitor and bedding to cover the couch.
Wyatt was already hard at work changing door locks in the kitchen. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t let me in tonight,” he said, attention fixed on the open door and his work.
“I wouldn’t have cared,” she said with a smile. If she’d suspected he was a danger to Maggie, his feelings would have been the least of her concerns.
Wyatt released a low chuckle. “Fair enough.”
She started the coffee, then stuck a mug under the drip. “Cream or sugar?”
He shook his head in the negative. “Just the caffeine.”
“Right.” She carried the cup of coffee to her handsome handyman, then turned in a small circle, deciding where to begin remedying the mess left by an intruder.
She started with shutting cupboards and drawers, then moved on to clearing the counters. “What do you think Grandma was looking into that made her so afraid that she called you?”
“Well.” Wyatt shut the back door and tested the locks before tossing a set of identical keys onto the counter and unearthing a chain system from his bag. “Could be anything.” He lined the chain’s casing against the door’s edge and cast a look in her direction. “Did she say anything unusual to you lately?”
Heat crept over Violet’s cheeks as she struggled to recall the last time she’d spoken to her grandma. “We don’t talk as much as we used to. I’ve been busy since Maggie was born.”
“How old is your baby?”
Violet chewed her bottom lip, debating how much to tell him about her life “Eight months. She didn’t sleep for the first four, but she seems to be making up for it now.”
He smiled.
“I can’t complain. Even single moms need a break sometime, right?”
Wyatt’s sharp brown eyes snapped in her direction. His gaze drifted to her left hand, then rose to her eyes. “Not married?”
“No. Never. How about you?” she asked. “Any children? Got a Mrs. Stone at home?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Why not?” The words were out before she’d thought better of them. Then again, maybe this was the smart move. If he’d openly admit his inevitable defects, then she’d stop imagining the snare of electricity coursing between them at every turn. The fact that they were virtual strangers should have been enough to keep her from wondering what his hands might feel like on her hips or in her hair, but it hadn’t. Maybe knowing he was a womanizer, gambling addict or married to his job would do the trick.
“I hear I’m a pain in the ass,” he said, making the final few twists of his screwdriver. “Apparently, I’m cynical, distrusting and tenacious to a fault.”
Violet laughed. “Comes with the job, I’d suppose.”
“You’re not joking.” He slid the chain into the slot and tested the door. “I make my brothers crazy, and I’ve guarded their lives in combat. If they can’t handle me, I’m not sure why anyone else would want to try.”
Violet swept a pile of broken glass onto a dustpan and transported it into the trash. “How many brothers do you have? Any sisters?”
“No siblings.” Wyatt frowned over his shoulder. “Sorry. I meant my brothers-in-arms. Sometimes I forget they aren’t my blood, but we are undeniably family. Sawyer, Jack, Cade and I formed Fortress Security about two years after my military discharge. We’ve all tried to fit back into our civilian lives, but it didn’t work for us. We’re too far changed, and our particular skill sets don’t translate well to civilian life.” Wyatt packed up his tools, jaw clenched. “Eventually I decided to open a business where we could do what we’ve been trained to do. Guard and protect.”
Violet’s stomach tilted at the mention of his military service. “What branch did you serve in?” Maggie’s dad was a marine.
“US Army Rangers.” He seemed to stand impossibly taller as he reported the information. “Sawyer and Jack were, too. We met at Fort Benning.” Pride puffed his chest and deepened his voice.
Violet found herself drifting closer, hungry to know more. “A security firm run by army rangers? Also impressive.”
“It would be,” he said, smiling, “but Sawyer’s brother, Cade, was a jarhead.”
Violet’s mouth went dry. She didn’t mean to judge an entire branch of the US military by the actions of one pregnant-girlfriend-abandoning creep, but the association was there nonetheless, roiling in her gut.
“We’ve all got our mottoes and taglines,” Wyatt said, “but the bottom line for Fortress Security is honor first every time. Doesn’t matter how you word it.”
“God. Corps. Country. Family,” Violet groused.
“Exactly.”
Exactly. Violet set her broom aside and went to see what she could clean in the dining room.
Wyatt Stone might be kind, sexy and undeniably charming, but that marine motto had pulled her back to reality. The truth was that men like Wyatt would always put family last.
And that would never be good enough for Maggie.