Chapter 3

The sound hit Sterling a heartbeat before the wheel of the rental truck jerked in his hands, trying its damnedest to toss him off the road. The big pickup wasn't exactly maneuverable, but Sterling was a damn good driver, and he was not going to let a tire blowout throw him into the river bubbling along like it was laughing at his happy ass.

His security team, and Carson in particular, when they caught up with him, would never let him hear the end of it if he allowed that to happen.

Of course, that was how his day was going, wasn't it?

"It's all we have on the lot right now," the guy at the Hertz had told him when he bitched about the Ford Super Duty. That was what he got for flying in at seven in the morning.

And then he had nowhere to go until after three, when he could check into a hotel, so he'd had to cool his heels until a reasonable hour before he could go out to the Collier place and put his thing down.

He'd ended up in a diner, munching pancakes and bacon, which had been so worth the calories, but the coffee hadn't been worth the heartburn.

He managed to avoid the river, but the ditch? That was too much to ask, wasn't it? Dammit…

He sat there a second, staring at his hands on the steering wheel. It was damn dark for eight thirty in the morning on a Saturday.

Had he hit his head? No, he was pretty sure he would remember that. The airbag hadn't even deployed. So he crawled out of the driver's door and stared at the damn truck, then checked the sky.

Fuck, those clouds were near-black and menacing. Of course they were.

A bright yellow truck headed down the dirt road, moving nice and careful, and to his shock, pulled over. A smiling guy hopped out, jeans and CU sweatshirt, Broncs cap and work boots, screaming Colorado. "You need help, man?"

"God, yes. I had a blowout. At least I went off the road on the good side huh?"

He got a warm grin that would have been pure sex if the guy hadn't had bags under his eyes that would fit enough clothes for a sixteen-day cruise. "You did. I'd ask if you had a jack, but we're going to have to winch you up onto the road first."

"I have no idea if there's a jack. It's a rental."

"Lord, it is not your day." The guy chuckled and shook his head. "Let me get you hooked up."

"Thanks." He was used to being the one to help, to be honest. This was a novel experience.

"Sure. Anytime, just give me a second to grab my tow rope and pull around."

That fucking river wasn't giggling anymore. That was a full-out laugh.

"Thanks." He shook his head, trying to get it to clear up, the ringing in his ears not so fun.

"Hey." The guy turned around, came right to him, and those eyes were green as emeralds, flecked with gold. Jesus, that was pretty as all get-out. "Did you hit your head? Let me see your eyes. Did you lose consciousness?"

What? "I don't think so? I mean, the airbag didn't go off. I bet it's more whiplash that rang my bell."

"Yeah…I don't love that." The man's lips tightened, and he had the urge to reach out and touch them, smooth them out. "Luckily I?—"

A sharp crack of lightning hit the road, not ten feet from them. He barely registered the scent of ozone before a clap of thunder almost deafened him. From a weird distance, he heard a baby screaming.

"Fuck me. Grab your stuff, man. My house is right here."

"Okay." He fetched his bag and closed up the truck, because he wasn't going to put this guy and a baby in danger to tow him back on the road. He'd sit in the guy's truck and call Hertz.

The hail started about the time they got to the truck, the baby in the back seat screeching his head off as chunks of ice pinged off the metal.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay. Daddy's got you. We're heading home." The guy pulled out as soon as Sterling closed the door. "This storm is going to get rough. You can wait it out, and we'll get you help."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. That blowout shook me." He was way more… capable, as a rule. Maybe he had whacked himself. He'd have to check for bruises.

Then again, maybe he was lacking sleep.

"No worries. Seriously." The sky got darker, the ice got thicker on the road, and he was feeling utterly out of control.

They turned into a long driveway, and then under a carport with a covered walkway into a perfectly decent ranch house. It seemed solid enough to handle the storm that was starting to make the wind whistle, and the lightning that was crashing around them.

The guy parked, then took off his coat. "The hail shouldn't get you, but I have to make sure Xavi's safe. You good?"

"Solid as a rock."

"Get ready to run!" The guy got out, taking the baby out of the car and covering him or her with the coat. "Here it comes. Come on."

By the time they slid into the kitchen of the house like a pair of runners plowing into third base, the hail was coming down in crunchy sheets, they were both soaked, and Sterling was fixin' to toss cookies.

"Come on in. Candles are in the desk drawer right there. Can you light some? We'll lose electricity, sure as shit. I'll heat up some water and get towels." He hauled the baby with him, bouncing and murmuring all the way.

"Got it." He lit a couple of candles, thankful the man was organized enough to have a lighter in the drawer as well. Lord, it was bitter all of a sudden. Hail storms did that, though. Just sucked any warmth right out of the air and replaced it with that falling ice.

"I have a fire set. I'll start it in a few. I need to let my mom know I'm okay. She worries." He got a warm smile. "I'll grab you a water and some Tylenol."

"I appreciate it." He glanced around what he could see in the gloom, noting a neat, clean kitchen done in bright colors with baby stuff strewn all over. Bottles in the dish rack. Towels and bibs in the little alcove by the washer and dryer.

It was sweet as hell.

He sat on one of the dining table chairs, his ears ringing a bit.

"No, Mom. Yeah. No, he had a blowout and knocked his head. No, I'm fine, but we're going to wait this storm out. What? Yeah. Yeah, I totally have wood and supplies. You stay in town."

The guy handed him a mason jar of water and a bottle of hard core Tylenol.

He tried not to be nosy, because that was rude, so Sterling focused on the wild cacophony of the storm outside and took the pills, knowing they would stave off a nasty headache if he went ahead and swallowed them now.

The baby went into one of those wind-up swings, then his rescuer hung up his phone and bent to start the fire, which was already laid. The mantel was covered in coffee mugs, the wall above holding even more on hooks. "So, the storm is a booger-bear. You might be here for an hour or so. At least I have coffee and soup." Sterling got an eye-roll, another grin. "I'd plug in your phone, though. I can't guarantee that we'll keep electricity."

"That's fine, man. I can't tell you how much I appreciate not having to be sitting in the ditch in that rental." Especially since the county road he'd been on had seemed less than well-traveled.

"No worries. I'm glad I found you." The fire started up like it was meant to, and then the guy was in the kitchen, making coffee, pulling out a box of doughnuts. "I was heading out to take my mom shopping and an early lunch. She wanted some baby-time. I'm Benji, by the way. Benji Collier."

Oh, holy shit. His eyes widened, and he shot a look at the baby in the swing. That was his nephew. Sierra's baby. This was the guy who'd adopted Sierra's baby.

He was going to pass right the fuck out.

"Sterling." He stood and stuck his hand out, his mind racing. He could tell this guy who he was, and they could go right on the defensive, or he could wait until the storm was over, at least, and get a feel for the guy. So he made a split-second decision and gave his middle name, which was his mom's maiden name. "Sterling Blair."

"Pleased." Benji shook before nodding to the chair. "You want a doughnut? They're a day old, but they're still amazing. I'm addicted to Long Johns." Benji didn't react to his first name, which was unusual enough that, if Sierra had warned Benji about the family, ought to mean something.

"I'd love one." If his stomach rebelled, so be it, but all he had down there was coffee and pills, and that might be a bad combo.

"Yeah, it'll settle things." Benji handed him the box, and there was a glazed one in there, waiting for him. That shouldn't suck. "So are you heading to the ski mountain? You got your Sunday go-to-meeting clothes on, and it's only Saturday."

His Sunday… Oh. Yeah, he was wearing a sports coat with his dark Wranglers and his good boots and hat. "I was traveling, yeah. So I hadn't settled in and gotten comfortable yet."

"Well, you can relax here. I don't have any ceremony to stand on. I'm a full-time RN with a fourteen-week-old son—my life is all bodily fluids, all the time." Benji didn't sound like he was bitching. In fact, he sounded tickled.

"Who's the little guy?" Sterling asked, smiling at how the kid was deep asleep, as if he knew he was safe and sound with the storm raging outside.

"This is my son, Xavi. He's the light of my life." Benji beamed in the direction of the swing, watching that little one with what read to him as adoration mixed with exhaustion. He looked like Sierra—dark hair and a dear little button nose.

"He's adorable. How old is he again?" He tried for casual, but his head was a tad spinny, so who knew if he was accomplishing that?

"Fifteen weeks on Tuesday." Benji leaned in, checked his eyes again. The man smelled like Ivory soap, fresh laundry, and rain. "I'm going to ask that you don't go to sleep, man. You want to watch TV?"

"Uh, sure." He never did that, but it would probably keep him awake, and was less rude than getting on his phone or something. "Thanks. You a rodeo man or something?"

"Me?" Oh, that was merry laughter. "God, no. No. I'm an animal lover. I have two horses, six goats, eight llamas, and a coop of chickens."

"Oh. I only mean because you seem to be on top of the concussion game." And God knew he'd had his share of them as a rodeo man himself. His momma had liked to have died when he'd had the last one, which had been a career-ender.

"Ah." Benji wound up the swing again, then came to sit in an obviously well-loved recliner. In fact, that would be how he would describe this house. Cozy, well-loved, nothing ostentatious or trashy. Just a home. There were pictures of horses and big horn sheep on the walls, a sofa covered in blankets, and a fuzzy rug spread out in front of the fireplace. The built-in bookshelf was full of knickknacks and well-read books. There wasn't a bit of design. "No. I was trained as a medic in the service, and then I went to nursing school. I worked in the ER a lot, and now I am the head nurse at the pediatrics office. I see a lot of bumped heads."

"I bet you do." He'd seen his share, and some of them didn't come back from the injury. "This isn't my first go-round, unfortunately."

"Well, I'm a professional, and I can tell you that your pupils are fine, everything is the same size, and I'm not worried. I am, however, going to insist you sit and stay awake. Let me get you the?—"

Another round of lightning hit the ground, and BANG, there went the electricity.

He hooted. "So no TV for me."

"Nope." Collier glanced around, lips pursed again. Okay, that was a tell. "Would you like to play cards?"

"That depends. I'm miserable at poker, but tolerable at rummy and cribbage."

Benji chuckled softly. "I'm decent at those. I am also, amazing at Scrabble, Simon, and Bop It."

"I've never even heard of Bop It." It sounded kind of naughty, which he was sure meant it was a kids' game.

"It's a—like a handheld deal? I use it at work all the time to impress the kids."

"Huh." He grinned. "I'll have to google it."

"Well, for now, save your phone battery and we'll play cards by firelight, cool?" Collier went to grab a deck of cards. "Thank goodness we have gas heating and stove. I can warm bottles and make soup."

"Oh, I was about to offer to do stuff on the fire." He grinned. "I can make a mean baked potato. Or a s'more."

"Mmm…I love a baked potato. Seriously. It's one of my favorite meals. I have one every day at lunch."

"Yeah?" Well, they had something in common besides Sierra. "I love them. Loaded or plain with butter?"

"At work, plain with butter and sour cream, but normally? Loaded."

"Yum." He took the cards, squinting a little.

"You sure you want to play? I mean, I can poke you every few minutes."

"Oh, that would leave bruises," he teased. He could see why Sierra was friends with this guy, at least on the surface. Benji was pretty charming. It was easy to like him.

Asshole.

"Let me light some more candles." Benji stood up and headed for the rolltop desk again. "That'll help. So what are you doing in town? Something fun, I hope?"

"Huh? Oh, uh—" Okay, he hadn't actually lied yet, and he found himself reluctant to do it. He was an honest guy, for the most part. "I'm here to meet a new family member. My sister…" He let that trail off, hoping Collier would make assumptions that he meant his sister was getting married.

"Oh, cool. Well, congratulations. Family is always a blessing."

He didn't see evidence of a wife, and he knew there wasn't one on the birth certificate, but it would be weird if he didn't ask, wouldn't it?

"Thanks. Are you— is your spouse safe with this storm? I don't want to keep you." There. That wasn't skanky, right? What a minefield.

"Huh. Oh, I'm not married, but thanks for asking. It's just me and Xavi." Benji didn't seem worried at all.

"Got it." He chuckled. "Me either. Married, I mean. I think it's probably not in the cards for me." He'd dated. His family knew he was gay. They didn't really care. But it as a messy thing to marry someone into his nest of huge personalities and weirdos.

"Ah. Yeah. I have a full life now. I don't have time to woo someone." Woo, what an old-fashioned word. "Maybe when Xavi is in college."

"I hear that. You can't be that old. You got time." He shuffled, then dealt out for rummy, which was what he assumed they would play, since no cribbage board had appeared.

"Just turned thirty-one. Xavi's birthday is a month before mine." Benji had a little pad of paper and a pencil.

"Well, there, you see?" He kept it as light as he could. "Tell me to butt out if you want, but what happened to his mom?"

"Oh, I adopted Xavi. His mom and I are old friends, she needed a hand, and she knew I had been saving for a surrogate. It worked out perfectly for both of us." No shame, no hesitation. Benji was…shit.

His head was fucking killing him. He rubbed his temples, trying not to hork up the doughnut. This was a damn complicated situation.

"Dude. How about a Sprite? You're a little green about the gills." Benji popped up again like a goddamn jack-in-the-box.

Seriously? Didn't the son of a bitch ever sit and stay? Maybe it was a nurse thing. "I— Yeah, okay. Thanks." He was used to taking charge, to being the one who had to get shit done. This was odd.

"Don't worry. You're in safe hands."

"I believe you." He did, too. And that was going to be a problem.