Savior in the Saddle by Delores Fossen Page B

help Brandon make sure his privacy stays private. It’s probably why he lives all the way out here by himself. This place is a good ten miles outside of town.”
    That said a lot about the man whose baby she was carrying. A private man. A man she trusted, she reminded herself.
    A man she wanted.
    Willa quickly tried to push that thought aside, but it flashed right back in her head. She huffed. Her memory was still a mess in parts, and yet she could remember in complete, agonizing detail every twinge of attraction she felt for a man who placed a high value on privacy and keeping secrets.
    “So, who takes care of the place and the dogs when he’s out of town?” Willa wanted to know. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that Brandon might have a girlfriend.
    “His neighbor’s boy does that for him.”
    “Neighbor?” she questioned. Not a girlfriend. Though she didn’t see a nearby house or any other signs of a neighbor.
    “Zach Grange,” the deputy provided. “He raised the dogs from pups, and he’s about the only one other than Brandon that they trust to get near them. I figure Brandon likes having ’em around. He worked canines for a while in Special Forces, you know.”
    No, she didn’t know. That was another of the secrets he hadn’t been ready to volunteer.
    Brandon came back out and returned to the car so he could open her door and take her overnight bag. The wet, cold air came right at her, sending a chill straight through her clothes. Brandon thanked his deputy, and the man tipped his Stetson and drove away.
    “Will the dogs bite?” she asked, eyeing them as they went up the steps. Even though it was freezing, literally, she didn’t hurry because she didn’t want to alarm them.
    “They won’t bite you.” And he aimed a glance at both, one that was effective because the two remained docile on the porch as Willa went past them and into the house.
    Her first impression was that the place was toasty warm. Thank goodness. And everything was neat and orderly. There were no clothes lying around, no clutter. The living room had been painted a soft cream color that complemented the slate-blue sofa and recliner. He had a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall above the fireplace.
    Other than the winter weather outside, there were no signs of Christmas here. Like her place in Austin. Hard to concentrate on the holidays when their lives were on the line.
    “The kitchen’s through here,” he explained, pointing through a doorway.
    Willa looked inside. Neat and orderly there, too.
    “The bathroom’s over there.” He pointed to the first room off the hall that fed off the living room.
    “Is it okay if I take a shower?” she asked.
    “Of course.” He handed Willa her overnight bag and walked into the kitchen. “Then I’ll fix us something to eat, and you can get some rest.”
    All three of those—a shower, food and rest—sounded heavenly, and Willa headed to the bathroom. But then, she stopped.
    “I want the truth,” she told him, turning back around to face him. “Will Shore come here looking for us?”
    Brandon had been about to open the fridge, but his hand paused in midair. He looked at her and then crossed the room toward her.
    “He might,” Brandon confessed. “The dogs won’t let him get close, but he could try to neutralize them.”
    Neutralize. What a benign word for kill.
    “I have a security system wired to all the windows and doors,” Brandon continued. “It came with the house, and even though I’ve never had an occasion to use it, I will now that you’re here.”
    “Good.” And she heard herself repeat it several times. Because she suddenly felt shaky, Willa placed the bag on the floor and held the doorframe to steady herself.
    Brandon caught onto her. “Are you okay?”
    She managed a nod. “I’m not very good with this whole trying-to-kill-us thing.”
    “Few people are good at that,” he mumbled. He pulled her into his arms. “And you don’t want to be around them if