Chapter One
Riley
“Come here, sweet girl,” I listen to the sound of Nick Taylor’s voice from my perch in the barn loft. He always sounds so gruff and growly. Except when he’s talking to the three-legged barn cat, then his rich baritone develops a slow, musical quality.
I’m a new hire at the Taylor Ranch here in North Carolina. I get on the truck with the other day workers and spend my time mending fences in the pasture.
The only difference between me and the other workers is at night, I double-back to stay in the barn. It’s warm and safe, which is more than I can say for some of the places I lived in when I was a foster kid.
I don’t mind staying in the barn, but it does mean I have to duck out of sight and slink around when any of the Taylor Brothers come inside. The oldest is Nick, and he’s the one with piercing blue eyes that feel as if they’re seeing right through your soul. He doesn’t seem to laugh all that much and I wonder what his would sound like.
“There you go.” He feeds the cat a treat before taking a slow once over of the barn. I overheard him tell one of his brothers that he found the wrapper for my protein bar, so I’ve been more careful not to leave traces behind.
Gilbert West, my adoptive father always told me to go to Nick Taylor if I ever ran into trouble. But despite the fact that I’m pregnant and broke, I don’t want a handout from a stranger, even a handsome one like him. I just want the chance to earn my keep and build a good life for my child.
Nick finally finishes his survey and slips out of the barn, closing the door behind himself.
I breathe a sigh of relief once he’s gone and try to ignore the growls coming from my stomach. Seems my baby wants more than the meager protein bars I eat these days, but I can’t quite afford anything else.
“I’ll do better soon,” I promise my little one in the darkness. I spend a lot of time trying not to think about the future. If I do, I’ll break down in tears. Like I did last week when I saw a pretty little blonde toddler in a sparkly pink dress clutching her mama’s hand in the grocery store.
I want my girl to have pretty things too. I don’t want her growing up like I did, wondering where she belongs and always having to accept the dirty, stained handout dresses that the other girls in school had outgrown.
Shaking off the thoughts, I shimmy down the ladder and into the horse stall with Daisy. She’s a pretty chestnut Quarter Horse Mare with a beautiful brown coat and the sweetest demeanor of any animal I’ve ever met.
She knickers softly and comes to rest her head against me. I nuzzle her, breathing in the warm animal scent. When Gilbert wasn’t around, his wife and daughters made my life a living hell. I often found solace in the barn, snuggling with the animals.
“I’ll try to bring a treat tomorrow,” I promise Daisy.
Then I move around her and pull out the blanket that she gets covered with when it’s cold outside. I’d never take a blanket from an animal but it’s not cold tonight and nobody wrapped her in it. I figure that makes it OK for me to have this small comfort.
I’ve just grasped the blanket when a hand reaches through the darkness, clamping onto my arm. I fight a wave of panic, my mind flashing back to the Reed Farm and the sleazy foreman there.
“Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Nick’s baritone is a mixture of outrage and curiosity.
My body relaxes when I hear his voice. I’ve only worked here for about two days and only seen Nick three times. But there’s something about him that makes me think he’s nothing like those men on the Reed Farm. More than that, Gil trusted him. That alone tells me he can’t be a bad man.
I stay quiet, not sure what to say to this brooding stranger. Technically, I’m trespassing on his land and I don’t want him getting angry at me.
“Who are you?” He steps from the shadows and turns me toward the slats of the barn where the moonlight shines through. He squeezes, tightening his hold on my arm.
Despite my plan to be quiet, I make a pained whimper.
Nick glances down, probably noticing the sticky blood oozing up through the tear in my long-sleeved flannel t-shirt. I got tangled up with some barbed wire getting out of the Reed Farm. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t exactly close the wound with just one hand.
“What’s the matter with your arm?” He pulls up my sleeve to inspect the area before letting out a slow whistle. “Something got you good.”
“Can I just go?” I try to make my voice sound confident and unscared. Truth is, I don’t know where I’m going to stay next.
Something in his eyes softens for a second before he blinks, and those defenses are back up.
“You’re coming with me,” he says. He drops his hand from my injured arm and wraps it around my other one.
He tugs me outside, his touch gentle but firm. The night air around us is still slightly chilly for spring and I fight the urge to shiver.
“Please, if I gotta leave, I have a bag I want to get.” It doesn’t have much in it other than a refillable water bottle and another t-shirt. I had to disappear from the Reed Farm so quick that I left most of my belongings behind.
“You can get it later,” he answers as he comes to a stop in front of the Gator. It’s a type of utility vehicle used frequently on farms and ranches. “Get in.”
I do as he instructs. I could try to run but I’m exhausted from always running, always trying to find the next place to lay my head. Besides, I’m curious about Nick. I wonder what a man like him must have done to have received such high praise from Gilbert.
Nick pulls on the cellphone that’s clipped to his belt and barks a string of orders into it. I can’t hear what he’s saying but his words are urgent and harsh.
Then he’s in the seat beside me. He drives in silence, not so much as sparing me a sideways glance.
After thirty minutes, he pulls to a stop in front of a log cabin. Light spills softly from the windows and two rocking chairs sit on the front porch. This must be what home looks like.
I push back the thought and swallow the lump in my throat. I’ve never had one of those and I’ve got to figure out how to change that. I can’t let my child grow up like I did. “What is this?”
“It’s my home,” Nick answers, hopping from the vehicle. He holds out a hand, helping me down. Awareness stirs in my body, making me feel hot and achy despite the cool air.
“Are you calling the Sheriff on me?” I force myself to ask the question as I drop his hand. I’m trying to determine if I need to get gone before I end up pregnant, broke, and in jail tonight.