Does someone want her frightened...or dead?

Someone is terrorizing Chelsea McGregor and her daughter. But who? Her husband disappeared years ago. The only other suspect is a former boss who couldn’t respect boundaries—a far cry from attempted murder. Texas rancher Nate Kent vows to help the single mom. But can she trust an outsider to keep her family safe?

NICOLE HELM grew up with her nose in a book and the dream of one day becoming a writer. Luckily, after a few failed career choices, she gets to follow that dream— writing down-to-earth contemporary romance and romantic suspense. From farmers to cowboys, Midwest to the West, Nicole writes stories about people inding themselves and inding love in the process. She lives in Missouri with her husband and two sons and dreams of someday owning a barn.

Also by Nicole Helm

South Dakota Showdown

Wyoming Cowboy Marine

Wyoming Cowboy Sniper

Wyoming Cowboy Ranger

Wyoming Cowboy Bodyguard

Wyoming Cowboy Justice

Wyoming Cowboy Protection

Wyoming Christmas Ransom

Stone Cold Texas Ranger

Stone Cold Undercover Agent

Stone Cold Christmas Ranger

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

What She Did

Barb Han

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90511-8

WHAT SHE DID

© 2020 Barb Han

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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All my love to Brandon, Jacob and Tori,

my favourite people in the world.

To Babe, my hero, for being my great love and my place

to call home.

To my mum, Juanita, for being my biggest cheerleader.

And to my sister, Tonia, for always having my back.

Love you both!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“Skylar, it’s time to go,” Chelsea McGregor shouted up the stairs to her four-year-old daughter. She listened for the sounds of those still-small bare feet running on the creaky wood flooring of the new house in Jacobstown. Skylar’s energy never ceased to amaze Chelsea. The kid had two speeds: full-out and passed out. And she was being way too quiet for this hour of the morning.

Chelsea called to her daughter again.

At least they’d made it through the first night in a new house. The move to a new town in Texas, a fresh start, had been the only light of hope in Chelsea’s life since the first time she’d looked into her newborn baby’s eyes. In that moment of pure bliss, Chelsea had had no idea what was going on at home. Anything of value was being cleaned out of her house while both her personal and business accounts were also being drained by the man who’d promised to love and protect her for the rest of her life.

Travis Zucker had robbed her blind, cost her her livelihood and, to be honest, her dignity. She’d been young and naïve in falling for a charmer. He’d charmed her right out of her life’s work.

People talked about defining moments. That had been hers.

When Travis hadn’t answered any of her texts while she was in labor, she’d gone from fearing her husband had gotten into a terrible car accident—because she’d thought there was no way he’d miss the birth of their daughter otherwise—to laboring for seventeen hours with her mother at her side, to shock followed by horror that she had a brand-new life to care for and no financial means to do it with. She and Skylar had moved in with Chelsea’s mother, whose health had been declining for years. Linda McGregor had high blood pressure and cholesterol, diabetes, and arthritis to name a few. Staying on top of her medications and having the money to pay for them had been a challenge.

“Hey, Mom,” Chelsea shouted up the stairs to her mother, who was helping Skylar get dressed for preschool. “How’s it going up there?”

Her mother appeared at the top of the wooden banister.

“I sent her down.” Linda checked her watch. “Must’ve been at least five minutes ago.”

“That’s odd. I didn’t hear her.” Chelsea spun around and scanned the long hallway past the boxes that had been stacked and pushed haphazardly against the wall.

She immediately checked the hall bathroom but it was empty. Skylar might be playing a game. She loved hide-and-seek. Or she might be trying to avoid her first day at a new school.

Skylar had to be upstairs. There was only one staircase in the house. It creaked and groaned even under the weight of a child. Chelsea had already flagged a couple of random nails sticking out that would need to be addressed soon. Her to-do list was growing considering the place hadn’t been updated or repaired in probably a good twenty years. None of the imperfections mattered. This house was a gift beyond measure.

“Where are you, little bit?” Chelsea tried to regulate her breathing as her stress levels climbed. She reminded herself that the man who’d taken everything from her wouldn’t come back for their daughter. The fear was unrealistic. And yet it could be crippling when it struck. This was one of those moments.

Chelsea reminded herself to breathe slowly as she checked behind boxes, shivering in the drafty hall. There was a door to a small storage space underneath the stairs. It was possible that Skylar could’ve tiptoed downstairs and slipped inside. Chelsea had been in the kitchen making Skylar’s lunch for her first day in a new school. A new month. A new house. A new lease on life.

Her mother had agreed to come live with Chelsea in Jacobstown. Chelsea had said she needed help with Skylar to convince her mother to leave Houston but the reality was that she was worried about her mother. Her health was a concern and Chelsea needed to be able to keep an eye on her. A group of doctors in Fort Worth had a great reputation and Chelsea figured a change couldn’t hurt considering her mother’s Houston doctors seemed to be running out of ideas and inspiration. They’d played around with her mother’s medications, which had led to all kinds of side effects. Getting the balance right proved tricky.

A cold front had blown in during the night. Seventy-five-degree temperatures had dropped into the low forties.

Chelsea rubbed her arms to stave off the cold and called her daughter’s name again.

Skylar didn’t so much as make a peep.

Chelsea quickened her pace, knocking empty boxes out of her way as she locked her gaze onto the door underneath the stairs that had been made into a small coat closet.

“Hey, sweet girl. Are you in here?” Chelsea opened the door with her heart in her throat. Her calm words belied her panic.

There was no sign of Skylar.

Now, Chelsea was jogging through the rooms, double-checking the small powder room near the kitchen.

She returned to the bottom of the stairs and called up to her mother. “She’s not down here. Are you sure she isn’t upstairs with you?”

“I’ll double-check her room.” There was worry in her mother’s voice, too.

Chelsea ran to the kitchen.

If Skylar was playing a joke, this wasn’t funny anymore.

“Come on out of your hiding place.” Chelsea drummed up her I’m-not-kidding tone. Her Serious Mom voice was nothing to mess with and maybe because she only used it as a last resort did it always work.

She listened for sounds of movement. When none came, her heart lurched. She stormed toward the stairs, panic slamming into her with the force of a tornado, threatening to rip her apart and smack her into the ground when it was done with her.

Chelsea broke into a run and by the time she hit the stairs her body was already trembling. She took the wooden steps two at a clip and then sprinted toward her daughter’s bedroom.

What was it about her life that caused the walls to come tumbling down around her just when everything seemed to be clicking?

“Skylar,” she said so loudly it startled her mother.

“I can’t find her.” Linda squinted her eyes as her right hand went over her heart; habitual signs that she was out of options. It was also the expression she’d worn the few times Chelsea had asked about her own father.

At a young age, Chelsea had realized the topic brought painful memories to her mother. She’d since learned not to ask.

Once, her mother had asked twelve-year-old Chelsea to run and get muscle strain cream from her nightstand. When Chelsea had picked it up, accidentally knocking a book to the floor, a photograph had fallen out. The picture had been a younger version of her mother. Although, to be honest, Chelsea had barely recognized the woman with the carefree smile. She’d traced the beaming face with her index finger. Gone were the deep worry grooves from her forehead—a now-hardened face from years spent barely getting by on odd jobs. Her mother had had to sacrifice going to college to support Chelsea’s father, whom she later found out had been an aspiring photographer. She’d made the connection years afterward that he had taken the picture of her mother.

Money had always been tight and Chelsea often wondered what had happened to her father. There’d been times when Chelsea and her mother had had to pick up in the middle of the night and leave all their belongings behind to avoid being forced out because her mother couldn’t pay the rent.

The two of them had bounced around among well-meaning relatives for most of Chelsea’s life. Chelsea had picked up on late-night conversations. Her father had gone out for milk and never returned.

She’d learned that in those first couple of years after her own father left that her mother believed he’d been injured somewhere and was unable to come home. And then, as time went on, she’d hear about a relative who’d seen her husband and then another sighting from a friend of a friend. Over time, her mother seemed to realize that he’d made the choice to leave. No explanation. No looking back.

Travis had been nothing more than history repeating itself. When he’d walked out, Chelsea had no such fantasies that he’d return. She’d accepted her fate and moved on.

She thought about Travis and the similarities. Unlike her mother, Chelsea had never searched for her husband.

The worst part for Chelsea during her childhood had been seeing the hope in her mother’s eyes while on road trips—trips she later realized were voyages to locate Chelsea’s father. Her mother would come alive for a few days. She’d stay up late and talk until Chelsea’s eyelids grew so heavy they closed automatically. She’d splurge on eating at a restaurant, which Chelsea now realized was nothing more than a truck stop but had felt like five-star dining to a kid.

Before the day ended, her mother would produce a chocolate bar. The two would curl up in a motel room bed and break off piece after piece until it had disappeared. Looking back, Chelsea had also realized that every road trip she’d taken with her mother had ended at a photography exhibit.

At least one of her aunts had believed that her father had changed his name and was living in New York. A trip there at fifteen years old had amounted to a hot, sticky bus ride and a whole heap of disappointment. Her mother had quietly cried after she’d believed Chelsea had gone to sleep, just like all the other times.

Chelsea had started a successful food truck at nineteen and within two years owned three. She’d been so proud of her business, of her ability to financially support a mother who had given up everything to care for her only daughter. She’d met Travis two years later and married after a whirlwind romance because she’d found out she was pregnant despite taking birth control pills.

To have everything she’d worked for taken away was a hot poker in Chelsea’s chest.

The thought of anything happening to her daughter was worse.

“Where could she have gone?” Linda threw her hands in the air, exacerbated.

“Maybe she slipped outside and is waiting in the car.” Chelsea couldn’t let herself think the worst.

She hurried to the front window so she could see her used pickup truck. She’d bought it with some of the small—but enormous in so many ways—inheritance money. Since losing her business four years ago, she’d gone to work in Renaldo Vinchesa’s kitchen as a sous chef. It was pretty much the only job she could get after losing everything. He was notorious for being a womanizer despite being married with kids, something she didn’t learn until she’d been on the job a few weeks. She’d rejected his advances, which seemed to make him even more determined to pursue her. He’d promised to leave his wife if Chelsea agreed to go out with him—an offer that had turned her stomach.

And then, when his wife left him, he seemed to turn up the heat, pressuring Chelsea to date him or risk him smearing her reputation in the food service industry.

Vinchesa was powerful in the Houston culinary scene and his threats to ensure she’d never work in another restaurant weren’t idle. He’d deliver on them in a heartbeat and, based on the texts she’d received from the couple of friends she’d made while working at Chez Houston, wheels were already turning in that direction.

Vinchesa had tried to corner her into staying put when she’d turned in her notice. Her aunt’s inheritance had freed her. So she didn’t mind a creaky old house, because it was hers. She didn’t mind the elbow grease it would need to become ship-shape, because it would provide a home base for Skylar to grow up secure in. And she didn’t mind that the heater had conked out in the middle of the night, because... Well, admittedly, that part had been awful.

What she did mind was her daughter pulling a Houdini.

Glancing down at the late-model pickup she’d bought, Skylar was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s my cell?” Chelsea’s pockets were empty. Had she left it on the kitchen counter?

“I’ll keep looking up here. You go down and check there,” Linda said.

Chelsea turned to head toward the kitchen as her mother continued her closet inspection, picking up empty boxes and shaking them as though Skylar might tumble out of one.

A moment of I-can’t-do-this struck. Chelsea hammered it down. She could do anything she wanted. She would pull on her big-girl pants and keep it together.

As she wheeled down the stairs and past the front door, the silhouette of a male figure appeared on the porch.

Funny, she hadn’t seen anyone drive up, but then the house sat close to the road and she couldn’t hear much over the howling winds picking up speed by the minute.

Heartbeat pounding at the base of her throat, she froze.

Three rapid knocks sounded at the door, followed by a masculine voice that sent warm vibrations rippling through her despite the frigid temperature.

A couple of thoughts raced through Chelsea’s mind at that moment. She quickly crossed off the first. That voice did not belong to Renaldo. His was like fingernails on a chalkboard.

The other had to do with Skylar missing.

Chelsea bolted to the door and whisked it open.

Six foot three of male muscle under a gray cowboy hat stood on her porch. He looked to be in his early thirties with steel eyes and what she imagined would be a six-pack of pure power beneath his lightweight shirt.

The wind almost forced the door out of her hands but she held tight.

“My name’s Nathan Kent and someone in this residence called in a fire.” He examined her and then looked right past her. His voice would make reading a medicine bottle sound scandalous.

“A what?” Chelsea tried to ignore the inappropriate reaction her body had to the tall, gorgeous cowboy. She was confused because her cell was nowhere to be found and her mother hadn’t made that call—

And then it dawned on her.

“Mom, she’s okay,” Chelsea called upstairs before turning back to the fireman. “Who called you?”

“A little girl by the name of Skylar was all Dispatch could get from her. A truck is on the way. I happened to be passing by when the call came in.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, spinning around to check the hallway in case the little culprit stood behind her. Relief flooded her that her daughter was okay. Skylar was a good kid, just scared, and she’d just learned how to call 9-1-1 at her old school when a fireman had come to visit her class. “My daughter’s starting a new school today and we just moved in to a new house, and, as you can see, there’s nothing on fire here.” Chelsea motioned around awkwardly, not especially sure what to do with her hands. “I’m embarrassed that she wasted your time.”

Nathan made a quick call to the Dispatcher, relaying the news this was a false alarm before tucking the phone in his front pocket. Chelsea expected him to pull out a citation book and write her a ticket or something.

Instead his intense expression softened when he asked, “Mind if I speak to the caller before I go?”

“She might not come out,” Chelsea said. “I’m pretty sure she knows that she’s in big trouble.” Chelsea emphasized the last two words to make sure that Skylar heard them.

This probably wasn’t the time to think about the fact that she hadn’t brushed her hair yet or that she was wearing baggy sweatpants and a faded Journey concert T-shirt she’d bought from a resale shop because she liked the music and the shirt fit into her barely existent clothing budget.

Chelsea also didn’t want to think about the fact that it felt like history repeating itself with her financial situation, too. She’d sworn never to let Skylar know what it was like to go without. At this point, Chelsea hadn’t exactly broken the promise to her four-and-a-half-year-old daughter.

Liar, a little voice in her head accused her.

“Would you like to come in, Nathan?” Chelsea asked. If embarrassment could kill a person, she’d be flat on the floor by now. And she sincerely hoped the handsome cowboy/fireman believed the red flush to her cheeks, as she felt them flame even more when he stepped inside, was attributed to her reaction to the situation and not to the very real attraction she felt.

“Call me Nate,” he said.

Chelsea chalked her reaction up to not having had time for a date in months. Her mother had become sicker in recent months, and working full-time while caring for a preschooler and aging mother left very little social time. Not to mention the fact that the last date she’d gone on had been such a dud that Chelsea had tried to convince herself she could swear off men until Skylar was eighteen. Fourteen years to go and she was already practically drooling over the first hot guy. Well played, Chelsea.

“The fireman’s here, Skylar. I know you called. Mommy’s worried and I want you to come out from wherever you’re hiding right now.” Chelsea softened her tone because, first and foremost, she was relieved her daughter was okay. Now that she knew Skylar was hiding and not stuck somewhere she couldn’t call out for help, Chelsea relaxed below panic as she forced the door closed against the strong winds.

Nate stood in the front hall and Chelsea realized how bad her manners were.

“Can I get you something? A cup of coffee?” She looked him up and down. He wore jeans and a cotton shirt. The material on both was thin. He had to be cold.

He nodded. “Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Follow me.” She walked into the kitchen trying to think. “I know exactly where she’d be in our old house.”

The hot cowboy leaned his hip against the counter and her heart stuttered when she thought about such a good-looking man standing in her kitchen.

He pulled his cell from his pocket and she noticed how graceful his movements were. He seemed like the type who would probably laugh at hearing himself described in that manner. Chelsea poured two cups of fresh brew and handed one over.

“What’s your number?” he asked.

Her immediate reaction was to tense up.

He blinked at her like he was confused by her response. And then it must’ve dawned on him because he lowered his voice to church-quiet and said, “We’ll hear it ring. But, if you’re not comfortable—”

“It’s okay.” She whispered her number to him. This was turning out to be a red-letter day and Chelsea hadn’t finished her first cup of coffee yet.

“My mother’s upstairs. In fact, I’m surprised she hasn’t been down here to check on things. I hope she heard me. She’s most likely still looking for Skylar.” The house wasn’t that big. Had her mother had another episode? Chelsea’s imagination was running away with her because Mother would’ve hollered if anything had happened. Chelsea excused herself and walked down the hall to the bottom of the stairs again, grabbing onto the wood railing that needed a few nails to steady it.

“Mom, can you listen for my ringtones?” she shouted upstairs.

“Who was at the door?” her mother asked, appearing at the landing and scaring the hell out of Chelsea. Thankfully, her mother looked normal.

“Fireman,” she responded and, before her mother could freak out, added, “Everything’s fine.”

“I’ll keep an ear open,” Linda said, giving a thumbs-up sign.

Chelsea hoped her mother was making the gesture because she caught onto the plan and not because she thought Chelsea should flirt with their guest. When Mom winked, it was pretty obvious which side she was on.

Hot cowboy or no, Chelsea couldn’t be bothered with so much riding on her business getting off the ground. There was a lot of work to be done and she needed to focus on making sure the three of them didn’t starve.

Plus, her immediate need was to find her daughter. Nothing overrode that.

Nate Kent entered the hallway and Chelsea didn’t have to look to know he was there. She could feel his masculine presence. She turned and him gave the awkward hand signal her mother had just given her, with an even cheesier smile.

Chelsea took a breath and fisted her hand.

He seemed to get the idea because he tapped the call button.

A hush seemed to fall over the house and even the roaring winds outside calmed.

Chelsea listened, moving from room to room when no ringtones sounded. Her daughter was too young to change the settings on the phone. This couldn’t be right. Skylar was hiding somewhere. She’d called 9-1-1 and asked for help.

The cowboy followed her until they ended up back in the kitchen.

“It’s gone into voice mail.”

Chapter Two

The look of terror on the brown-eyed, blond-haired mother punched Nate in the gut. The five-and-a-half-foot tall beauty had full lips, creamy skin and a flawless figure with just the right amount of curves. And those were things Nate had no business noticing.

“If she was okay, she would answer.” Chelsea twisted her fingers together.

An older woman wearing a frock and apron came into the kitchen. “Any luck down here?”

“No.” Chelsea looked frantic as she exited the kitchen and moved from room to room calling for her daughter.

“I’m Linda,” the older woman said. She had permanent worry lines etched into her forehead and sad, light brown eyes. Maybe sad wasn’t the right word. Deep down, behind her smile, she looked empty. She was thick around the middle and it looked like it took some effort to walk. But there was also a kindness and warmth to her that her daughter had no doubt inherited.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Name’s Nate Kent.” He offered a handshake that she took with a surprising amount of vigor for a woman of her stature.

His cell buzzed. He excused himself as he checked the screen and saw the call was from Dispatch.

“Are you still at the McGregor residence?” Patty Smart had turned seventy-eight on her last birthday and her mind was still sharp as a tack.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. I have a little girl on the line and she’s quite distraught. Seems she’s gotten herself in a fix.” Patty’s calm, sympathetic voice was a welcome relief. It meant the little girl was okay.

“Is she in the house?” He shot a knowing look toward Chelsea. Even wearing baggy jogging pants and a loose T-shirt, he could tell she had an amazing figure. Again, her shapely hips and full breasts were none of his business.

“Yes. She’s in a closet under the stairwell,” Patty supplied.

“We looked inside there.” Nate was already circling back with Chelsea on his heels.

“Can you hold on, please?” Patty asked.

“Of course.” Nate turned to Chelsea and whispered, “She called 9-1-1. I’m on the phone with one of the operators. Your daughter’s here in the house and she’s shaken up but all right.” Nate was grateful he could deliver good news. As a volunteer fireman for Broward County, he’d seen a little bit of everything and not every situation turned out the way he’d like.

“Thank you.” Chelsea’s eyes closed for a second and she looked to be collecting herself as relief washed over her features. “If she’s here, where is she?”

He nodded at the hall closet as Patty came back on the line.

Chelsea’s forehead creased with confusion.

There could be a crawl space in there. He’d seen plenty of oddities in these old houses. People created insulated spaces to hide money and, in some cases, bootleg whiskey.

“I’m putting the call on speaker,” Nate said to Patty.

“Skylar said she’s worried that her mommy is going to get upset with her for being bad. She didn’t want to start a new school.” Patty’s grandmotherly compassion came through.

“She’s safe. That’s all that matters to me,” Chelsea said.

“I’m sorry it took a minute to call. You must be worried sick. It took time to calm her down enough to understand what she was saying.”

Chelsea was already inside the four-by-six closet with its sloped ceiling.

Nate peeked inside.

“She’s not in here.” Chelsea dropped to all fours and felt around on the floor.

“None of these houses have basements.” Nate had no idea where the blond beauty had moved from. This was Old Lady Barstock’s place.

Chelsea felt around walls. “There’s nothing here.”

“Can you tell Skylar to shout to us or bang on the wall?” Nate dropped to all fours and knocked on the walls, looking for a dead space.

And then he felt it. A ridge where there should have been solid wall. “Hold on. I might have something.”

He ran his finger along the ridge. Chelsea moved beside him and her scent washed over him. She had that clean, warm and citrusy smell.

Refocusing, Nate pushed on the two-by-two box. The wall moved. Using both hands, he forced an opening. Almost instantly, sniffles sounded.

“Skylar, baby, are you in there?” Chelsea’s voice had a forced calm that belied the wild look in her eyes.

“Momma?” A sob echoed as a scuffling movement sounded. The little girl’s face appeared in the opening, round and angelic. Red, puffy eyes spilled tears when she saw her mother.

Nate backed away, ending the call with Patty after delivering the good news, giving mother and daughter space to reunite.

Linda paced in the hallway. “Was that her voice I heard?”

“She’s okay.”

The older woman clutched at her chest and it looked like her right knee gave out. Nate grabbed her arm to keep her from falling.

“Let’s get you into a comfortable chair.” He helped Linda into the kitchen and into a chair at the table.

Linda apologized several times.

“Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.” It didn’t, but he wanted to make her feel better. The family had clearly been through enough for one morning.

Nate didn’t have children of his own but a few of his brothers did. He couldn’t imagine the terror of one going missing even for a few minutes.

His family had been through a lot and that had made them even closer.

Their parents had died a short time apart, leaving Nate, his four brothers and one sister to run the family ranch. The Kent Ranch, known to most simply as KR, was one of the most successful cattle ranches in Texas. The family owned land across the state and into Idaho and Wyoming.

Then there was the growing problem of someone butchering heifers on the family ranch. The gruesome killings had started out weeks ago with one heifer found near Rushing Creek with its left hoof hacked off before being left to die. There was no excuse for animal cruelty to any Kent, and Nate was no exception. His family had been working closely with local Sheriff Zach McWilliams, who was also a relative, to solve the cases. The cousins had been close from childhood, along with Zach’s sister, Amy.

Everyone was on the hunt. There had been no new information or leads on the case yet extra patrols couldn’t keep the killer at bay. His pattern of striking was unpredictable.

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Linda said, settling in the chair.

“You couldn’t be,” Nate reassured her. He had basic EMT training but that’s about as far as his skills went.

Linda’s color had washed out, her pupils dilated.

“Are you taking any medications?” he asked.

The older woman issued a breath. “I forgot. In all the excitement, I completely missed my morning pills.”

Chelsea came into the room, a little girl in her arms who looked like her Mini-Me but with black, kinky curls. Nate glanced up and his heart squeezed at the sight of mother and daughter. The little girl was still sniffling and softly crying, her face buried in her mother’s long hair.

Linda put up a hand at Chelsea’s obvious concern. “I forgot to take my medication this morning,” Linda said.

“Where is it? I’ll go get it.” Chelsea was busy with her little girl, so Nate volunteered to do it.

“I keep them in the cabinet next to the kitchen sink.” Linda pointed. “There’s a lock on it so you’ll have to finagle it open.”

“A couple of my brothers are married with kids. I’ve seen most of these.” He was able to open the cabinet easily. He grabbed three bottles with Linda’s name on them and brought them to Chelsea’s mother with a glass of water. He recognized one as a commonly prescribed blood pressure medication.

She thanked him and took the offering. She opened the bottles and popped three pills in her mouth. “I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Nate noticed the concern on Chelsea’s forehead. She had her hands full.

And so did he.

“THANK YOU FOR COMING,” Chelsea said to Nate. Her to-do list was piling up and she hadn’t planned on Skylar being around for the day. Having her daughter home was going to throw a wrench in things. Part of her figured she should send her daughter to preschool, but the other part—the winning part—convinced her to keep Skylar home.

What Skylar had done was not okay. But the scare of being locked inside the crawl space had been bad enough for her daughter to still cling to Chelsea. There’d be no peeling those fingers from around Chelsea’s neck, and maybe she was a bad parent for it, but she needed to keep eyes on her little girl after that shock, to see that her daughter was fine.

Chelsea, shaken up by the morning’s events, was probably overreacting, but she also acknowledged that she’d uprooted Skylar from everything familiar.

Nate finished his cup of coffee and set it on the counter.

“There’s no reason to rush him out the door,” Linda said with a little wink that made Chelsea’s face flame with embarrassment.

Worse yet, he chuckled, and it was a rumble from deep in his chest.

“I’ll walk you out.” Chelsea didn’t care how amused he was. She was mortified.

“Hope you feel better soon,” he said to her mother.

“Maybe you could stop in later.”

“Mom.”

Chelsea, Skylar in her arms, led the way to the front door without looking back. She didn’t want to give away her body’s reaction to the handsome cowboy. Besides, it was most likely because of what had happened, but she had a creepy feeling that she couldn’t shake. When she really thought about it, she’d woken with it.

A premonition? She didn’t believe in psychic abilities.

She stopped at the door, hefting Skylar higher on her hip. “I think I’ve apologized like fifty times already, but I’m sorry about my mother just now.”

“She was having a little fun.” She was grateful for his good nature. He hesitated at the door. “I don’t want to intrude, but it might be safer if I check out that crawl space before I leave.”

Skylar lifted her head to look up. She’d always been a shy child, avoiding eye contact until it was absolutely necessary.

“It was scary,” Skylar said, brown eyes wide and watery. A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. She brought the back of her hand up to wipe it away.

Chelsea almost didn’t know how to react. Her daughter rarely spoke to strangers, especially men she didn’t know.

Nate’s offer would take an item off Chelsea’s growing to-do list. Accepting help was foreign to her, especially from a stranger. She had always been self-reliant. To be honest, she preferred it to depending on anyone else.

But she could also admit that she was in over her head.

“That would be great.” She needed to get back to the kitchen to check on her mother, though she didn’t like the idea of the crawl space being open. “Any chance you can board it up while you’re here? I have a hammer and nails. I’m sure I can find a couple of boards.”

“I was going to offer the same thing. Thought I’d check it out first to make sure nothing else was in there.”

Chelsea must’ve tensed without realizing.

“In case there are any small critters in there that need to get out first,” he clarified.

She wasn’t sure she loved the sound of that, either, but it was a nice gesture. Being in the country would take some getting used to. “You must love animals.” Wasn’t his last name Kent?

He nodded and smiled. Those gray eyes of his shouldn’t make her feel like her knees might buckle when he looked at her.

He was just a man. Okay, that wasn’t entirely fair. He was more than a man. He was one seriously gorgeous cowboy with a familiar last name—why did she know it?

“You could say taking care of animals is in my blood.”

“Do you have any?” Skylar asked, perking up.

“I live on a ranch where there are cattle, horses and pretty much every other wild thing you can find in Texas.” Normally a man of his size and build would be intimidating to a small child. His gentle nature with Skylar made it easy to see why her daughter took to him.

Chelsea glanced at his ring finger and her heart gave a little flip when she didn’t see a gold band. Not that it mattered, she quickly reminded herself.

Skylar’s face lit up as the cowboy spoke. She leaned away from her mother and unclenched her hands from around her mother’s neck. She rocked her body, indicating that she wanted to get down. Chelsea complied.

Her daughter had never recovered from a traumatic event so fast. Chelsea’s head was spinning and she knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Do you have a pony?” Skylar asked.

“We have three. Peter, Polka and Dot,” he supplied much to Skylar’s amusement. “Peter bites, so you have to watch out for him if you ever stop by.”

“Can I come over now?” Skylar twisted her arms together and shifted from foot to foot.

“No, honey. Mr. Kent is working and you should be at your first day of school. Remember?” Chelsea couldn’t help herself but to throw in that last part. Now that her own heart rate had settled below panic she was rethinking her position on keeping Sky home. If there was a chance she could get her daughter to school, even late, she probably should do it. Having even a few hours to focus would go a long way toward getting her restaurant ready for its opening in six weeks. Six weeks? Thinking about it made her lungs squeeze.

“What school do you go to?” Nate asked, squatting until he was eye level with the child.

Skylar looked up at her mother and blinked.

“Clemens Preschool. Have you heard of it?” It was an early childhood development program and the best part was that tuition was next to nothing—precisely what Chelsea could afford while she got her business off the ground.

“I know a few of the teachers over there. Mrs. Eaton—”

Skylar jump-clapped, which was quite a sight, considering she’d never jumped and clapped at the same time before. “That’s my teacher’s name.” Skylar could barely contain her excitement.

Shock nearly knocked Chelsea back a step. Skylar’s reaction had caught Chelsea off guard but then she’d never seen Skylar react to a man this way. Her little girl had never met her own father and there’d been no grandfather around to fill in the gap.

Chelsea’s attempt to sign her daughter up for a coed soccer team had fallen flat when Skylar had refused to step on the pitch. In her daughter’s defense, the coach had had a supersonic voice that boomed. He was Dad to seven boisterous boys and coached middle school football. He was big, round and loud. Skylar had been terrified of him.

“Your teacher brings in a special visitor every year around this time,” Nate said. “A male frog by the name of Henry.”

“Really?” Skylar’s eyes were saucers. She was captivated. Her mother could admit to being enthralled by the handsome cowboy, too. The man most likely had a girlfriend or significant other. There was no way he was single and, even if he was, Chelsea had been there, done that, and the T-shirt had been stolen by her ex.

“That’s right,” he said. Chelsea already knew from checking his ring finger earlier there was no band, which didn’t necessarily mean there was no relationship.

Besides, once this cowboy was on his way, Chelsea planned to have a serious discussion with her daughter about the proper use of 9-1-1. Although, in fairness, the little girl had been trapped between the walls. Chelsea shivered thinking about how badly this could’ve gone if her daughter hadn’t taken the cell phone in with her.

A cold trickle, like when people said a cat walked over their grave, crept over her. She’d been on edge for days and it was probably because of the way she’d left things at her job in Houston.

Renaldo had made threats before telling her she’d regret walking out on him. He’d been outraged at the fact that she didn’t want to date him and her quitting had seemed to infuriate him more. She would’ve walked out after the first time he’d made a pass at her but she’d needed the job and would need a letter of recommendation if she quit. She’d been forced to keep the peace.

Looking back she could see how naïve she’d been in believing his interest would blow over. She figured he’d lose interest and find another person to date. It wasn’t like many of the other waitresses didn’t see him as attractive. To Chelsea, he seemed like a spoiled middle-aged man used to getting what he wanted from people. There was absolutely nothing attractive about that to her.

Renaldo had made no secret of being put off by her rebuttals.

The man had an ego the size of Texas.

But was it dangerous?

Chapter Three

Nate had picked up a sidekick while he worked. Skylar was a cute little thing with big, rust-colored eyes and a shy smile. He’d been around kids enough recently, thanks to his brothers and their wives, to be halfway decent as an uncle. A few of his brothers had found true happiness with wives and kids. Don’t misunderstand, Nate was all about the people he cared about being happy. And marriage was great for some people. He had no plans to rush into a commitment of that magnitude.

When he and his former girlfriend, Mia Chase, had hit the six-month mark of dating, her software job moved to Boulder. She’d told him how much she cared about him and that she didn’t want the relationship to end. And that’s when the ultimatum came to take their relationship to the next level or end it.

Nate had been honest. He hadn’t been ready right then, but that didn’t mean he would never be. He didn’t share the part about something holding him back. It didn’t matter. Mia had balked and it had become clear to him that she’d been expecting a different answer.

A couple of weeks after she’d left, he’d learned the move had been optional. She’d tried to back him against the wall to get him to the altar. Her plan had backfired. To this day, he couldn’t understand why she’d done it, but he knew for certain that he’d dodged a bullet. There wasn’t much Nate despised more than a liar.

Besides, six months was a long time to spend with the same person. He’d been bored for the last two, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to break up with her after she’d told him she was still dealing with the loss of her sister to lymphoma. That, he later found out, had also been a lie.

He hammered the last of the nails and backed out of the crawl space. “That should take care of it.”

Chelsea had ushered her daughter into the kitchen and now stood next to him. She’d changed into formfitting jeans, a blouse and ankle boots. Her hair was slicked back in a ponytail, her brown eyes intent on him. “How’d you do that with Skylar?”

The little nugget, he knew, was in the kitchen, eating with her grandmother and happily chatting about how much fun her day at school was going to be.

“It’s magic.” Nate’s work was done. It was time to take off. He put his hat back on and pulled down on the rim in front.

Chelsea was beautiful. And, under different circumstances, she was exactly the person he’d enjoy getting to know better. But family was sacred to him and he doubted a woman like Chelsea would be happy with what he could offer—a great time in the sack with mutual consent. Besides, the burn marks from his last relationship were fresh and he had no intention of jogging down that same snake-filled path any time soon.

“We’re obviously new in town. Last night was our first night in a new house and this morning is not off to a good start,” Chelsea said on what seemed like a frustrated sigh.

He already knew, thanks to Linda, she was single. He didn’t want to like that fact as much as he did.

“Jacobstown is a great place to bring up a family. Small-town atmosphere. Nice folks,” he told her. He also felt the need to warn her about the heifers. “Until a recent crime spree involving heifers, I don’t think we knew what crime was.”

Her eyes grew wide. “And now?”

“We’ve had a threat to our livestock. A few animals have been butchered by a man who has been cutting off the hooves of animals. In fact, he just picked up a name, Jacobstown Hacker. You might hear folks mention him.” Nate didn’t want to go into more details than that but people were on edge and she deserved to know the truth about what was going on.

Her face twisted in a mix of rebuke and sadness. “This sounds like one messed-up individual. Who on earth would get pleasure out of hurting innocent animals?”

“A twisted jerk.” Nate couldn’t agree more. “Do you have a pet?”

“I promised Skylar a puppy once we get settled,” she said on a sigh.

“Might want to think about keeping it inside. There are coyotes to deal with in the country. Not to mention the Texas heat.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Chelsea’s eyes sparked but she didn’t mention where she’d moved from.

“Folks from the city are known to drive out to these parts to drop off unwanted dogs. Not sure if you had your heart set on a specific breed, but you can save money if you’re willing to care for anything that turns up.” Nate thought it was a shame people did that to animals. A domesticated dog, especially a puppy, didn’t have the survival skills necessary to outsmart a bobcat or a hungry pack of wolves. Get much farther out and wild boar roamed.

“That’s awful.” Chelsea frowned and he had no business looking at her pink lips or the freckle on the left side of her mouth.

“If you end up with more than you can handle, give my ranch a call. We have heated and air-conditioned barns for the horses with plenty of room to take care of strays.” Nate gave her his personal cell number, just in case.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Part of Nate wanted to volunteer that she call if she needed anything. But he knew better. Go down that rabbit hole and what?

He had no idea. Chelsea seemed the opposite of Mia, but first impressions could be deceiving. He’d learned that the hard way, too.

Still fresh from his breakup and betrayal, Nate knew better than to jump back into the dating saddle—no matter how much his heart seemed to have other ideas when it came to the town’s newest resident. Casual and consensual sex was another story altogether. He’d had plenty of that in the past few months since the breakup.

Lately, his opinion of it was changing.

“HE WAS NICE.” Chelsea’s mother winked at her.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Chelsea warned. She took her daughter’s hand, ignoring the disappointment rumbling around in her chest that the cowboy had left. She didn’t have time to mess around with an attraction. There was work to do and, for the first time in four years, she felt a twinge of excitement and a whole heap of nervous energy. But it was good.

“You look...” Linda paused. “Happy.”

“Aunt Maddie did us a huge favor with this house and the business. There’s enough money to get things off the ground. I know it’ll be work, but I’m up for it.” If she budgeted super tight, they should be okay. Her money was planned down to the penny. There wasn’t a whole lot of play, which worried her about her mother’s episode this morning. Chelsea hoped the health incident had been brought on by Linda missing her morning medication and not something more serious, such as her condition getting worse.

And just because she’d become expert at handling curve balls didn’t mean she wouldn’t mind an occasional straight path. What she needed was a fast track to success. But she knew building a business took time.

Shoot. That reminded her. She should’ve mentioned her business to the cowboy. He seemed like he knew everyone and it wouldn’t hurt to start getting word out about her new pizza place that would open in six weeks.

Speaking of which, the delivery men would soon be at her restaurant site to install her fire pit and she needed to get a move on.

Chelsea checked her cell, making sure no one had called. And a little part of her wished Nate Kent would have. There was another text from Renaldo, this time asking if he could come see her new house.

Seriously?

“Ready, Sky?”

Her daughter’s eyes brightened as she nodded. “Can we get him?”

“Oh, no, honey. The fireman has to work and be ready to help other people on a moment’s notice.” Skylar’s confused face stared up at Chelsea and her mother laughed. And then it dawned on Chelsea why. “You mean a puppy don’t you?” Sky had been asking for a male puppy after reading a popular book about a yellow lab together.

“Uh-huh.” Skylar nodded. “What else?”

Linda clucked her tongue and Chelsea refused to react. She wasn’t giving in and letting her mother know how embarrassed she was. The woman would have a field day. She might be ill but her mind was sharp—a little too quick-witted for Chelsea’s liking.

“Let’s get you bundled up,” Chelsea said to Skylar. “It’s cold outside and the truck heater is taking another day off.”

“Maybe you should take the day off, Momma.” Sky’s eyes were huge and they twinkled.

“I have important work to do.” It felt good to say that. Even better to mean it.

Renaldo did not get to win. Not as long as Chelsea could help it. If he made good on his promise, she’d never work in another five-star restaurant for the rest of her career.

With the inheritance, she didn’t intend to need to.

There was plenty to do and even more to worry about. But a light feeling filled her for the first time in longer than she could remember. Four years ago, she’d held her baby in her arms and wondered how on earth she’d be able to support her. Four years ago, she’d made a promise to that sleeping angel to figure out a way to come out on top. Four years ago, Chelsea had no idea the journey that was about to begin. She’d made it this far and, rather than focus on what she didn’t have, she’d decided to be grateful for what she did.

Chelsea retrieved Skylar’s winter coat from the same closet that had been a source of trouble this morning. Hair prickled at the base of her neck. She tried to shake off the creepy-crawly feeling but failed. Maybe she’d have concrete poured into that crawl space to seal it off.

“Ready, Sky?” Chelsea turned to find her daughter skipping toward her down the hall, a wide smile on her face. To be a kid again and able to bounce back from every setback in life so fast. Chelsea could learn a thing or two about not holding on to the past, she thought as she wrapped the coat around her daughter.

“Can we go to the man’s house?” Skylar’s face lit up.

Chelsea didn’t have it in her to dash the hope of her child, but she didn’t want to set false expectations, either.

“Right now, we need to get you to school. We’ll figure out the rest later.” Those last six words had become her new mantra.

School drop-off went smoothly and Chelsea figured she owed Nate Kent a pizza on the house at her grand opening considering he was probably the reason. Skylar had met her teacher with an eager smile and most likely the strong hope that Henry would be showing up.

The delivery truck showed within minutes of Chelsea’s arrival at what would be her new restaurant. The place needed a major overhaul, and would get it in the coming weeks. The location on Main Street would be perfect and she didn’t mind some sweat equity if it meant she could have her own space again.

There was enough room for a dozen four-top tables for guests wanting to dine in. A small construction crew would show up tomorrow to knock out one of the walls to the outside to create a half wall on one side so customers could dine outside with a full view to the inside.

Three hours later, the oven was installed and Chelsea had cleaned out a corner in the back of the restaurant that would make a perfect office. She could have the same contractors put up Sheetrock, leaving space for a window so she could keep an eye on the kitchen.

She had another forty-five minutes before she had to leave to pick up Skylar.

Glancing around, she couldn’t help but smile. She was dirty from head to toe from cleaning up the construction zone. But this was progress.

Chelsea picked up the broom. She had time to give the floor another sweep.

How crazy was it that a day could start out like this one had and turn into one of the most gratifying?

She finished sweeping, leaned the broom against the wall and then checked her phone. Another text from Renaldo had come in. If he thought she was going to answer any of these, he was eating fruit off the crazy tree. For a half second she thought about changing her number. It would be a hassle but it might be worth it.

If he kept on, she would have no choice. For now, she decided not to add any fuel to the fire and see what happened.

Lighter in step, she grabbed her purse and fished out her keys.

It was still light outside at three twenty-five in the afternoon, but not for long. Another couple of hours and it’d be dark. Part of Chelsea hoped that Skylar would be so worn out by her first day that she’d be ready for an early dinner, a hot bath and bed.

Chelsea laughed.

Yeah, right.

That was about as likely as Skylar getting a job and pitching in to pay the bills.

Locking the door to her place—her new restaurant—caused tears to well in her eyes. Happy tears.

She turned toward her pickup. She gasped and took a step back, only to be stopped by the industrial metal door.

Travis’s flat smile was more like a sneer.

“Baby, you’ve been hard to track down.”

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