Marie Ferrarella - The Coltons - Nick, Clay & Jericho

“You got somebody house-sitting?” he asked his sister. Georgie shook her head. “Then someone broke in.”

She rolled her eyes. Didn’t any man ever listen? “I already told you that.”

Clay made up his mind. “That does it. You’re getting your things and staying with me, both of you.” For his money, they didn’t even have to bother to pack. He could send one of hands to do the packing for her. “I’ve got the bigger place, anyway.”

“You’ve got the much bigger place,” Georgie acknowledged, “But that’s not the point.”

He might have known she was going to argue about this. Nothing came easy when it came to Georgie. “And what is the point, Georgie? Besides the one on top of your head, of course?”

She ignored the dig. Clay was just being frustrated because he knew he couldn’t win. “The point is my home is here and nobody is going to run me off it.”

He could admire bravery—when it came to someone else, not his sister, not his niece. “You’ve got Emmie to think of,” he pointed out. “What if whoever broke in decides to come back?”

“Then I’ll apprehend them,” Nick told him, wedging himself into the conversation.

Clay looked at him coldly, as if he’d forgotten about his existence. “And just how to do you intend to do that?”

“By staying here until I can get to the bottom of this,” Nick told Georgie’s brother. It was obvious that the answer was not to the other man’s liking.

Indignation blazed in Clay’s dark eyes. “You’re not staying here,” he informed Nick.

Okay, enough with the big protector, Georgie thought. She got in between the two men. “This is my place, Clay,” she reminded him. “I get to say who stays and who goes. And if I want Sheffield to stay here, then he stays here. My decision, not yours.”

Judging by the other man’s expression, Nick wouldn’t have been able to say who was more surprised by her statement, her brother or him. He was tempted to ask her just when he had become part of the home team instead of someone she wanted to get rid of, but he knew to leave well enough alone.

Because of the present complexity of the situation and the doubts that had arisen in his own mind as to her culpability, he had planned to remain here, at the apparent starting point of the e-mails, until this was all resolved—or until he managed to catch Georgie Grady in a glaring lie—he wasn’t completely convinced of her innocence. But one way or the other, he intended to get some answers.

Clay sighed. “You always were pig-headed.”

Georgie flashed a particularly wide smile for Clay’s benefit. “Nice to know that you can count on some things staying the same, right?”

Clay didn’t answer. He didn’t like the idea of some D.C. government spook watching over his sister. After all, she was nothing to the man. Besides, what if the other man started getting ideas about Georgie? Ideas that had nothing to do with e-mails and everything to do with the fact that his sister was a damn pretty woman.

Clay slipped his hands into his front pockets, rocking back on his boot heels. “I can hang around for a while if you want,” he offered.

“You’ve got a ranch to run,” she answered. “A successful ranch,” she added. They might have their differences and she resisted his taking charge of her life, but she was proud of her brother and what he had accomplished despite the odds against him. “And I’m a little old to be needing a babysitter.”

Clay didn’t bother to hide his scorn of Nick. He trusted the Secret Service agent about as far as he could throw him. Less. “I wasn’t thinking of you just now.”

Since Sheffield had said he was going to try to help her, Georgie felt the need to apologize for Clay’s behavior. “You’ve got to excuse my brother. He’s used to being in charge of everything, whether we wanted him to be or not.”

Clay took instant umbrage. “You don’t have to make excuses for me to a stranger.”

The last thing Nick wanted was to be in the middle of a family fight. “I assure you, all I’m interested in is finding out who sent those e-mails.”

“And in getting back Mama’s money,” Emmie reminded him. When he looked down at her, she continued, “Remember? You said that in the bank, that you were going to get back her money.”

Even Clay had to laugh at Emmie’s interjection. “Don’t say anything around half-pint you don’t want coming back to haunt you. She doesn’t forget a thing. And I mean nothing .”

Nick looked to Georgie for guidance. “Are most kids her age like that?”

“Most kids any age aren’t like that,” Georgie told him. Draping her arm over the girl’s shoulders, she gave her a quick squeeze. “Emmie’s one of a kind.”

“Unique,” Emmie declared, gazing up at her mother. It was obvious that she liked the sound of the word.

Clay ruffled his niece’s hair. “That’s right, half-pint. Unique.” He paused for a moment to turn to his sister. His expression softened. “You sure I can’t talk you into coming over to my place and staying there for a few days?”

“I’m sure.” Maybe, if things got worse, she’d taken him up on his offer. But right now, she wanted to face this on her own. “You’re within hollering range, big brother,” she told him cheerfully. “I’ll holler if I need you.”

“Yeah, right.” She was too proud. He didn’t believe her for a minute. “When pigs fly.”

Georgie grinned, amused. “Definite right after that, I promise.”

Clay addressed Nick. “See that nothing happens to either of them, Secret Service agent. I’m holding you personally responsible if it does.” Not that there was much comfort in that, he thought.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Grady,” Nick assured him. “It won’t.”

Clay’s expression darkened instantly. “The name’s not Grady.”

Confused, Nick shifted his eyes to Georgie before looking back at her older brother. “Your sister said she wasn’t married, so I just assumed that Grady was the family name.”

“It is,” Clay told him, then added, “Our mother’s family.”

Taking pity on him, Georgie began to explain, “My grandfather was a rodeo star—”

“Like my grandma,” Emmie piped up with pride. George “Rattlesnake” Grady had died before she was born, but her mother’s stories had made the man seem vividly real to the little girl.

Clay doled out his words slowly. “Grady was their last name.”

Georgie picked up the thread. “I took it as my stage name.” Nick felt as if he was suddenly a spectator at a tennis match. “To keep the family tradition alive.” That was apparently as much as she was willing to share at the moment. Turning on her heel, she faced her brother. It was obvious that she was dismissing him even though she’d been the one to ask him to come over to begin with. Calling on a woman’s prerogative, she’d had a change of heart. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

Clay didn’t look as if he believed her for a moment. “Yeah.”

“I promise,” Georgie repeated earnestly. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Emmie tugged on her shirt, her lower lip stuck out like a little perch. “Not me, Mama?”

She grinned. No matter how awful she felt, Emmie always managed to cheer her up, just by being there. “All right, Uncle Clay will be the second to know.” She looked up at her brother. “Good enough?” she asked him.

Clay snorted. As if he had a say in this. It was like trying to win an argument with a rock. “Guess it’ll have to be.”

“Give your uncle a kiss, Emmie,” Georgie urged, gently pushing the girl toward Clay. “One of your butterfly specials. That’ll cheer him up.”

Okay, he’d bite, Nick thought. “What’s a butterfly special?”