You're Not Safe (Texas Rangers) by Mary Burton

about the boy and perhaps had come face to face with a problem that confounded him.
    “This is a good place for Mitch,” Greer said. “It brought me back to life, and it might do the same for him.”
    Questions clearly stirred behind his dark eyes, but he kept them to himself. “If there is a problem with Mitch, I want to know about it.”
    She shook her head. “Short of it being a nine-one-one emergency kind of a problem, if you have something to say to him then say it. I’m not getting between you two.”
    A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “You already are.”
    “No, I offered him a job. That’s between him and me. You showed up on my land and insinuated yourself into the mix.”
    “Just doing my job.”
    “As a Ranger or an uncle?”
    “Both.” He touched the brim of his hat and turned to leave.
    She didn’t wish him well or ask him to come again like she would have most. Instead she stood silent, afraid to turn her back, as he climbed into the front seat of his SUV. As the engine turned and roared, she remained in the same spot for a long time, watching the truck move along the dirt drive, chased by a cloud of dry Texas dust. Only when his vehicle vanished around the last bend did she let her shoulders slump a fraction.
    “What did you get yourself into, Rory?” she said.
     
     
    An hour later the sound of another approaching vehicle had her lifting her gaze from a collection of chairs she was assembling for the reception room. Another truck, but not Bragg’s truck. Instead, it was a dark pickup, with a back rusted wheel well, gun rack hanging inside the cab, and a Semper Fi sticker on the back bumper. She recognized the driver. Mitch Bragg.
    She’d thought yesterday she’d seen the last of him. He’d shown next to no interest in her offer and in truth she’d wished he’d decline. That would eliminate a good bit of emotional turmoil and Ranger Bragg.
    But she’d promised to extend the invitation and she kept her word. By her way of thinking, when Mitch was back up on his feet, she was off the hook.
    Consider yourself paid in full, Aunt Lydia.
    She waited and watched as the kid parked his car and reached for the hat on the passenger seat. He nestled it on his head as if he worried more about delaying their meeting than the sun. Finally, he eased out as if his body were stiff and when he walked toward her, his posture was erect despite a limp. Once a marine, always a marine.
    Her heart clenched as she watched him. He so reminded her of Jeff. The broad shoulders. The swagger. The hint of uncertainty lingering behind the direct gaze.
    She cleared her throat. “I didn’t think you’d show,” she said. She wouldn’t mention Bragg’s visit. She’d meant what she’d said about staying out of the middle.
    His gaze roamed the land as if assessing the terrain and possible threats. “Almost didn’t.”
    “Why’d you come, then?”
    “Can’t rightly say. Maybe because I don’t really belong anywhere else and here is as good a place as any.”
    Now he reminded her not of Jeff but of herself when she’d first ventured on this land. Lost. Desperate. Afraid. “Fair enough. Ready to get to work?”
    He dug his hands into his jeans pocket. “What kind of work do you have in mind?”
    The same work her aunt had given her all those years ago. “I’ve a couple of old horses. They need tending. They’ll need to be fed and their corral extended. After that, the vineyards always need work. It takes four of us to run the place. It’s me, my manager, José, and his two sons. The sons return to college mid-August and come fall I’ll be shorthanded. If you work out, you can have a full-time job in the field.”
    He didn’t balk at the job description as his gaze trailed hers to the horses. “Hope you didn’t pay a lot for them. They’ve one foot in the grave.”
    “Had it in my head to rescue these old gals. They’re not good for much, but they’ve worked hard all their lives. They should