Texas Heroes_ Volume 1(76)

Was she cold to everyone but her child? Davey’s stories were full of his mother; there could be no doubt that she took an active part in his life. The kid could even read some, as Mitch had discovered when he’d read to him from one of Cy’s favorites, an old book called Freckles by Gene Stratton Porter. Davey had picked out a surprising number of words here and there.

She lay swallowed up in the bedclothes, the blond braid spilling over one shoulder. For a moment, a memory of white limbs seared his brain. He’d tried not to notice as he’d worked to bring down her fever, but he couldn’t forget the sweet curve of her hips, the tender rose of her nipples.

She was small yet perfect. A china doll who belonged on a shelf, who should be safely ensconced in a Boston mansion. Who should be wearing designer gowns and giving teas.

Instead, she was in Wyoming, in an area so remote that few men ever set foot here. She had driven far beyond the end of the road, then walked two miles with a small child through a forest she hadn’t been inside for years.

And the china doll had dark smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes and hollows in her cheeks.

Why?

Then Mitch started, realizing that her eyes were open and clear. He walked closer to the bed. “Need anything? A drink? Or the—” He nodded his head outside.

“Maybe some water.” Perrie’s throat felt like sandpaper.

He poured a drink and lifted her with one arm behind her shoulders, holding the glass to her lips.

Perrie drank long, grateful swallows. Finally she stopped and looked up at the golden eyes that had bored through her from the doorway. She glanced over at Davey.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to take care of him.”

He stood up and shrugged, whispering. “He’s a good kid.”

She smiled. “You don’t have to whisper. He sleeps like the dead once he’s out.”

The corners of his lips curved faintly. “That’s the trick, getting him there.”

Her smile widened. “How many stories?”

“It wasn’t the stories so much. It was the ten games of checkers.” His eyes sparked with wry amusement.

Perrie wondered if he knew how even a faint smile transformed his face. Power always surrounded him, a magnetism that shimmered even in his harshest moments—but that smile stole her breath.

Then the smile winked out like the Cheshire Cat. “Why?”

Perrie couldn’t keep up. “Why what?”

“Why are you dragging him around the countryside? He wants to go home.”

Perrie glanced away. “We came to see my grandfather.”

“Your grandfather has been dead for six months.”

But I didn’t know that. A fresh wave of grief threatened to drown her. “Does Davey know?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t think it was my place to tell him.”

Perrie couldn’t think about how hard it would be, telling her son that their last hope was gone. She dug her fingers into the bedspread. First things first. She needed a place to hide Davey. “Did he leave a will?”

Mitch looked at her like she had crawled out from under a rock. His voice chilled. “If you’d bothered to care, you’d know that Cy wasn’t much for paperwork.”

She couldn’t let his contempt matter. Only Davey mattered. “I’m his only relative.”

“Who hasn’t given him a thought in years.”

He had loved her grandfather. She could hear the grief in his voice. And he was wrong about her, but she wouldn’t argue. He could think what he wanted. Only survival was important. Only Davey’s safety. She didn’t know this man. Couldn’t afford to trust him. “How soon will you be leaving?”

His eyes went wide, then narrowed. “Lady—” Then he glanced around to be sure Davey was still sleeping. “I’m not the one who has to leave. Cy gave me this cabin and everything he had left, once he realized you weren’t coming.”

“But I—” Didn’t know.

Guilt battered at her heart. When she’d gotten her own place after the divorce, so much had been going on. She had intended to write her grandfather and give him her new address, even though he was not a man to write letters.

She would have done it, too, because she’d missed him for all those years. But then Simon had shown up again, with his threats and his demands.

It was on the tip of her tongue to explain. Mitch was a hard man, a strong man who could help her.

But he couldn’t wait for her to leave. And she had no choice but to stay until she could figure out what else to do. If this cabin belonged to him, she had to buy some time. It rankled her to be so helpless.

“I know I’ve been a lot of trouble. I’m not staying in bed tomorrow. I’ll be up and pulling my weight.”