Bonnie Vanak - Navy Seal Protector

Dan’s smile faded. “Felicity doesn’t like hats worn inside the house. But you can take it with you upstairs to your room and wear it on the ranch. Come, I’ll introduce you to my wife and children.”

The hallway was lined with white marble, and elegant framed paintings hung on the cream walls. The entry to this house wasn’t stacked with boots caked with mud and horse droppings. The antiseptic atmosphere made him feel as if he should have wiped his feet more before entering.

Dan led him into a living room with overstuffed brown leather furniture, a stone fireplace and gold lamps. A pretty but brittle blond woman dressed in a severe navy-blue dress was perched on the edge of the sofa. Next to her were two young boys with buzzed-cut brown hair dressed in neatly pressed trousers and white shirts.

Dan introduced the woman as his wife, Felicity, and their two sons, Mason, eight, and Miles, six. The little boys looked solemn.

Nick shook Felicity’s hand, which felt as damp and listless as the Southern heat. He sat on the leather chair opposite them.

“Thanks for letting me bunk here tonight,” he told her.

She gave a desultory wave of one hand. “It is your home as well, Nicolas.”

Dan stood by the sofa, as stiff as his starched shirt. “Did you eat dinner yet, Nick?”

“I ate at the Bucking Bronc earlier. Didn’t want to impose.”

Felicity seemed to sit even straighter. “It is no imposition. We already ate, but there are leftovers. Breakfast will be ready at seven o’clock sharp tomorrow. The funeral home requests family be there at nine thirty. We arranged to have two limousines. You may ride in one, unless you would rather provide your own transportation.”

“I have my bike,” he offered.

Her nostrils flared in apparent distaste. “You may ride in the second car, then. We expect promptness and we must respect the funeral director’s wishes. The services will begin at eleven sharp. We have a few house rules. No shouting, running, hats worn inside the house or jeans at the dinner table. We dress for dinner, which is six o’clock sharp. Boots with spurs are worn outside only.”

With all this “sharp” grating sharply on his last nerve, Nick wished he’d booked a room at the local motel. Then he remembered there was a country-music convention in town and there were no rooms. Maybe the barn. Might be a tad warmer sleeping with the horses than in this cold house.

He glanced at the dusty Western boots on his feet. “This is still a farm, right, Felicity?”

Felicity blinked. “Of course it is. But we are civilized people, and we must adhere to the rules in order to act as civilized people, not wild hooligans.”

A dull flush crept up his neck. Damn if she didn’t sound like old Silas himself, with the rules and the “hooligan” accusation. Maybe the old man had rubbed off on her. Or he’d died earlier and his ghost possessed this woman.

“I won’t be much in your way.” He gave her a pointed look. “After the funeral, I’m gone.”

He’d think the idea would have pleased her. Instead, she kept twisting her hands together. What was wrong with this woman?

“Where’s Timmy?” he asked. “I saw Shelby at the restaurant and she said you’re babysitting.”

Felicity sat straighter. “He’s downstairs in the recreation room.”

Recreation room? Dollar signs began pinging in his head. He wondered how much money Silas had sunk into this house. Unease gripped him. The old man had always been frugal, but this house cost money. Maybe the rumors he’d heard of the ranch being in debt were more than rumors.

Not your problem.

Dan stood and gestured to him. “I’ll show you to your room.”

He thanked Felicity again, and followed Dan up the sweeping staircase to the second-floor landing, his boot heels stomping firmly on each step.

At the hallway’s end, Dan opened a door. Nick blinked. Once this had been his room. No longer.

The bedroom had been converted to a guest room with a white queen-size bed, a pink ruffled spread, pink walls, white girlish furniture and a white rocking chair with bright pink cushions by the window. Nick gave a rueful shrug.

“Felicity thought you might like to be in your old room.” Dan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Except we did some redecorating, thinking you’d never come home again.”

“No worries,” he said easily. “I’m not staying long and I’ve stayed in worse places. Maybe not as pink, though.”

Dan flashed a brief smile at the joke as Nick dumped his pack on the white carpeted floor.

“Bathroom is through that door.” Dan pointed to a connecting door. “No one else is on this floor, so you don’t have to worry about interruptions.”

“Just my boots,” Nick joked.

Dan jammed a hand through his short hair. “Ah, about the boots, don’t worry about it. Felicity makes the rules mainly for the staff, who come into the house to use the office downstairs. Not family.”

Am I still family? The question hovered on the tip of his mouth, but he only nodded.

“Where’s Jake?” he asked.

“He’s at his girlfriend’s, but will meet us at the funeral home.”

Lucky bastard. Maybe his girlfriend had a spare room for Nick. A room with less frills and less Pepto-Bismol decor.

“I’ll need a suit for the funeral,” Nick told him.

“Already taken care of. You can wear one of Jake’s—you’re about the same size. Felicity hung it in this closet.”

As his cousin made to leave, Nick sat down on the pink chair. He was twenty-nine now, no longer the rebellious teen who looked up to his older relative for advice. “Stay a minute, Dan. Tell me what’s been going on. All I heard was rumors about the ranch having financial trouble.”

Dan stood by the bed. “There’s been a lot that’s happened since you left, Nick. Maybe if you had stuck around, if you had cared enough, things would be different.”

Tension squeezed his guts. Once he and Dan had been close. No longer, for the cold anger flaring in his cousin’s eyes told him everything. “I couldn’t.”

No use getting into the past, how Silas had browbeat him until Nick felt smothered, and how if he hadn’t left, he’d have either turned into a ghost of himself, or he’d have gone mad. The old man had kicked him out when he was only sixteen, telling him to “learn to straighten out and you can return.”

Nick survived six months being homeless, living by his wits, until the bitter cold weather drove him back, humiliated and ashamed, to his father. He remained at home another three years and then joined the navy.

No one knew the real reason he stuck it out. He preferred to keep that reason private.

Still, Dan should know his decision wasn’t capricious. “You remember that day when I was fourteen and I found the puppy by the roadside? How I begged Silas to keep it?”

His cousin nodded. “Always thought it was a bad deal that the dog was so sick you had to put it down. Tough call, but Silas said it was for the best.”

Nick gave his cousin a level look. “The dog was fine. I secretly brought him over to the vet to have him checked over. He didn’t need anything more than a deworming, Dan. Silas wanted me to shoot it because he said I needed to grow a set of real balls, and not get all ‘female’ over a damn stray dog.”

Dan blanched. “Silas would never do that.”

Nick gave a grim smile. “Oh, he would never do that to you. But me, he did crap like that all the time. Guess you’ll never understand. But before you go judging me for leaving here, understand I had my reasons.”

His cousin looked away, but not before Nick caught a flash of guilt on his face. “Silas could be tough, yeah. But if he didn’t take us in after my dad died, we’d have been really bad off, Nick. I guess that’s why I could forgive anything he did.”