Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

Sloan had more of a mess on her hands than the mud covering her coat, legs, and heels. She was mesmerized with this cowboy contractor. Even though he’d annoyed her by intoning she was dressing sexy and drawing the wrong attention, it was also telling that he was attracted to her. She’d had fun teasing with him but she couldn’t let down her guard or get emotionally invested. She had never allowed herself to get involved with a man before, and the fact that the world seemed to light up when she first met Rhett couldn’t factor in.

She was also trying to riddle out why there would be trucks parked out front and lights on in Grandpa’s house.

Please don’t let it be Jaxon or Preston , she begged her Father above. She tried to be kind, but those two were foul jerks she’d be happy never to see again in her life. The funeral had been … She shuddered. Her father had almost gotten into a fist-fight with his brother-in-law Ron. Jaxon and Preston had been itching to back their dad up. Thankfully, the preacher reminded all of them they were on hallowed ground and Sloan had been able to get away without too much interaction with the family.

When her dad found out she inherited the land, he had called and claimed she would never be able develop it without him and insisted she sell it to him. She’d hung up on him. He didn’t know she was here now, and she planned to keep it that way. They didn’t have a relationship any longer and what she did was none of his business. Her spine tightened just thinking about him. She was fiercely independent because she had to be. Any sign of weakness and she’d be working for her dad, turned into a puppet and dependent woman like her mother had been.

When her mother was alive, Sloan had always been obedient. Her dad told her it hurt her mom when she wasn’t. Her mother had been so fragile, like a porcelain doll. Sloan always wanted to protect her, not hurt her. After her mother died from a sleeping pill overdose, Sloan started becoming more verbose and attempting to rebel. Her dad had somehow convinced her teachers at her private school, their pastor, any friends’ parents, and their neighbors that Sloan was fragile, suicidal, and unstable emotionally after losing her mom. Everyone treated her like a porcelain doll, exactly the way they’d treated her mom. No one believed anything she said, and her dad controlled every aspect of her life. Until she escaped to college, met Kathy, had a real friend and confidant, and discovered how truly messed up her life and family had been.

Sloan was surprised she wasn’t annoyed that Rhett was trying to protect her. She really appreciated him being here for her. Somehow it was easier to accept protection and opinions from a man with magnetism, confidence, an appealing sense of humor, and a face carved by angels.

Looking at the old log cabin, so far away from civilization, and fearing her cousins were living in it, made her even more grateful for Rhett in this moment.

“I guess we go see who’s hanging out in my house?” she asked into the silence. Rhett hadn’t responded to her last comment regarding being on ‘her team’.

“I’ll go see. You wait here.” Rhett looked her over and seemed to sense she wouldn’t like the command. “Please.”

“Okay, Mr. Manly Man.” The please had been sincere, but he was pushing too far. Her best friend Kathy constantly told her she was too prickly about a man just trying to be a gentleman and that was why she’d never dated anybody for longer than a week. In Kathy’s estimation she got annoyed over the ‘silliest things’ and pushed men away. Kathy didn’t understand. Sloan had lived with iron control her entire life. She had to keep up her brave facade and refuse to be in any man’s power. She could rely on the Savior, Kathy, and herself. That was it.

“While I appreciate the gesture,” she said, trying for diplomatic, “I’m a big girl. This is my house, and I’ve got this.” To prove her point, she shoved open her door.

The smell of wet pine and damp earth greeted her. She jumped down. Her feet flew out from under her—more muddy mess here, big surprise. Did anybody in Montana know what concrete was? Luckily, she was holding onto the door and managed to keep herself from falling into the muck again.

“Sloan,” Rhett groaned.

“What?” she demanded, looking back into the truck at him.

“You are infuriatingly independent.”

“Take that back,” she said, partially teasing, mostly not. Her dad claimed she was so bent on being independent that she would hurt herself and ruin her life without him. She was grateful he wasn’t here to smugly watch as she clung to the door and tried to get her heels to support her, wanting to go confront somebody squatting in her house with mud all over her clothing.

Rhett jumped out and hurried around the front of the truck. He wrapped an arm around her to support her. Without the barrier of her coat, leaning into his firm waistline and well-built chest was exhilarating. She pulled in a quick breath and let herself cling to his arm. His nice, firm arm.

“What was that about a shopping trip for boots?” she asked. Maybe Rhett could help her with that independence. She’d let him support her right now, help her kick somebody out of her house, teach her the lay of the land, and then she’d stand on her own as she always did.

She had never realized how thrilling it was to lean into a man. Maybe that was why women pushed their independence aside. Would it take longer than a week to get annoyed with him and push him away?

Rhett smiled, but it was telling that the pulse point in his neck was thrumming quickly and his grip around her waist tightened. “After we kick out the squatters in your house and get you changed, we’ll go shopping.”

“Best date offer I’ve ever had,” she teased.

“Truly? Are the men in Arizona, L.A., and Vegas idiots?” He didn’t have his hat on; he must’ve forgotten it in the rush. The rain had slowed but some dripped down his hair and a drop rolled down his face. He was unbelievably good-looking, and his words made her smile.

“Blithering idiots,” she said, blinking rainwater out of her eyes and grateful for her false eyelashes. Mascara at this point would be a nightmare. “Their idea of a fabulous date is a rooftop restaurant. Give me boot shopping any day.” She winked. She hoped he never found out the truth. It was her that shoved the men away.

He chuckled.

She turned to start moving toward the house.

“Wait just a moment.”

She stopped. He reached back in the truck and grabbed his cowboy hat, plunking it on his head, and then he lifted the keychain out of the console and unlocked a compartment underneath. He pulled out a holster and a pistol.

Sloan’s eyes widened. She eased back, clinging to the door so she wouldn’t fall, but wanting distance from that gleaming black weapon.

Rhett strapped the holster on, looking like an old west cowboy. John Wayne in real life. Much more handsome than John Wayne in her mind, but also terrifying. A gun? Her heart beat hard against her rib cage. The only people she knew who had guns in Vegas were the mafia and the police.

What had she gotten herself into? Rhett Coleville had an impeccable reputation as a builder and she’d instinctively trusted him and been drawn to him from the moment he strode out of the unfinished house. Had she trusted the wrong person? Maybe he could’ve gotten her car un-stuck, but he wanted her to rely on him so he’d left it in the mud? He’d been super upset at the developer before he realized it was her. Would he hurt her now? Threaten her? He had her all alone, except for whoever was residing in Grandpa’s cabin. She didn’t hold out a lot of hope that the squatters would have her back.

Rhett might be appealing to her, but right now she was as uneasy as she’d been since she’d escaped home at eighteen.