Chirp(35)

“Stop it!”

“Get your fucking hands off her.” Rance grabbed the boy, slung him into the wall, pinned his wrists, and nudged his knee against the kid’s crotch. “Don’t you ever touch her again. If I find out you’ve so much as looked at her wrong, I’ll rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. You feel me?”

The boy squeaked out his answer. “Yeah.”

Rance went still. Rage coursed through his veins. He hated men who took advantage of women because they were physically weaker. If this kid was already doing it, his path was set.

“Rance!”

Blaze’s voice snapped him from his daze. He had the boy by the throat. He let go and stepped back, then looked at Blaze. “Get your purse and say your goodbyes.”

Cam slumped to the floor, gasping.

Rance didn’t wait for her return. He rushed outside to his truck, pounded the fender, paced, and tried to calm his emotions. He could have killed the boy. The thought terrified him. Damn, he wished he had a shot of whiskey.

She rode home in silence. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what. This was twice she’d seen his dark side. He wondered how many more it’d take before she ran like hell.

He figured she was upset or scared or disgusted. But which one? Well, he’d warned her. Should have made her leave the minute he arrived.

She turned to face him.

He braced.

Then she drew a deep breath.

“My name is Wren.”





16


Rance


Rance tried not to think about what had happened at the banquet. He’d almost gone too far with the boy, but that skinny bastard had no right to touch her.

Then, on the drive home, when she’d told him her name, his temper had cooled. “Wren,” he whispered, and loved the way it felt on his lips. Holy hell, he was lusting for her, and that had to stop. But things had changed in that moment. He finally knew something about her. Real. Honest. True.

Last night he’d dragged the mattress off his old bed into his master suite and slept on the floor. His bones ached, but it was still a hell of a lot more comfortable than a prison bunk. He’d told himself it was to enjoy the new room, but honestly it put him closer to her.

She was a contradiction. Stubborn and strong to a fault, but vulnerable at the same time. He wanted to protect her, not only from the groping coworker, but everything.

Sunlight beat against the sheets he had tacked over his windows, and dust motes floated in the air like glitter. Today he’d go to Danvers to order blinds. Hoped she’d come, too.

He sat up, lifted his laptop from the floor. Her name, along with the monogrammed note he’d found when he searched her room, gave enough information to learn more. Especially if he took into account what she’d shared about her mother’s death.

He typed “fatal car accidents Houston, Texas,” into the search bar. He’d start there. The look in her eyes when he’d mentioned the city made him think she had a connection to it. Clicking the state archives, he scrolled to Harris County and entered the year he’d come up with. One hundred thirty-six fatalities. Now all he needed was a victim with a last name beginning with M. Within minutes, he’d hit pay dirt. Lark Elise Holland Montgomery. Survived by husband, Grant, and daughter, Wren.

He opened another tab and typed her name. The first entry got his attention. “Heir to Montgomery Steel Goes Missing.” Holy shit. After reading the article twice, he looked at a connecting website where sightings were posted. Hundreds were listed. The most recent was three weeks ago from New York City.

He wondered how many were bogus. Probably most, since there was a $25,000 reward offered for information leading to her whereabouts. At least the cash he’d found was legit. She was worth millions. So why was she hiding?

He put the computer away, dressed, then strolled into the kitchen. Fresh blueberry muffins sat on a platter, and in front of the coffeemaker was a note instructing him to turn it on. While it brewed he focused on the garden, where she walked the length of a row poking holes in the soil with the hoe handle. He smiled. She’d learned the technique from Gran the same as he had when he was a boy.

Muttly played nearby, leaping into the air to catch a butterfly.

Damn, heiress to the biggest steel company in the United States digging in the dirt. Craziest thing he’d ever seen. She should be at a spa getting a head-to-toe treatment. Shopping at Neiman’s. Jet setting all over the world. But not her.

He poured coffee into his cup, took a muffin, and sauntered outside. He was next to her before she noticed. “Morning, Chirp.”

She looked up and shaded her eyes. “What did you call me?”

“Chirp.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a Wren living in Bluebird. Besides, I can’t call you by your real name, and I’m sure as hell not calling you Blaze.”

She pulled her brows together as if giving it some thought, then pursed her lips. “I like it.”

“You want to go into Danvers with me today? I thought I’d buy furniture for my bedroom. I plan to call my brothers later to tell them their festival visit is a go.”





Blaze


Blaze didn’t like going into town, but if Rance went alone, he might bring a woman home, and she didn’t want that to happen.