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They didn’t have the full picture yet and didn’t know how deep the poison went within the police department. What Wyatt could sense, though, was danger still hovered on the horizon, just waiting for a weak entry point.
Looking at Whitley, glowing as she held a baby chick, he made a silent vow.
None of it would touch her again. Not Lance, not Talon Group. Not one single shadow of the danger still circling in the dark.
He’d do anything, give up anything, and take whatever risks he had to in order to make damn sure she was safe.
“You’re staring.” She peered at him from under her lashes, a teasing lilt in her voice.
“Can’t help it.” Finally giving in to the urge, he tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. He let his fingers linger against her cheek a beat longer than necessary. “You look happy.”
“I am.” She looked back down at the chick, her expression vulnerable. “I don’t think I remembered what happiness felt like, even before all this.”
He didn’t have a response for that beyond pulling her carefully against his side, chick and all, and pressing a kiss to her soft hair. She fit there easily, tucked against him like she belonged, the chick peeping softly between them.
A big part of him wanted to keep her here for reasons that had nothing to do with Talon Group or Lance Dillard or anyone else hunting her. A selfish part wanted to lean in open doorways and talk about their days, wanted this exact fit of her body against his to become a permanent feature of his life instead of something on borrowed time.
He thought about the bonfire again and the couples under shared blankets, and the baby bundled in a footed suit and a knit hat.
The ranch was built out of strangers and survivors. Whitley was one of them too.
Above all else…whatever it took, he would make damn sure the people hunting her were brought to justice.
* * * * *
They walked back to the dining hall after leaving the chicks in their brooder box, and they both scrubbed their hands.
When Whitley emerged from the restroom, Wyatt was already waiting for her.
“Wait here a second. I’ll be right back.”
She waited in the spot he left her, curiosity building more with every minute he was gone. When he reappeared, he had a picnic basket tucked under one arm.
He sent her a sheepish look, and she almost laughed. As if a picnic wouldn’t charm any woman, let alone a picnic with her hunky protector in a cowboy hat and worn jeans.
Her heart did a lazy backflip as she met him halfway. “You planned this?”
He smiled into her eyes. “Might have.”
They walked a short distance from the lodge, far enough to leave behind the noise and the occasional person doing ranch chores. They found a rise overlooking the pasture with a clear view of the sky starting to bleed orange at the edges.
Wyatt opened the flap of the basket and withdrew a blanket. With a flourish, he whipped it out and settled it on the ground. On the first try, it rolled in half. On the second, the end didn’t lay flat. On the third, the wind caught it and rippled it for several seconds until she stepped up and grasped the other end.
In a joint effort they spread the blanket on the ground and settled down to eat. He pulled out sandwiches, fruit and some kind of pasta salad.
Then a small white box which he set out of her reach.
She eyed the box. “What’s that?”
“Dessert.”
This was the second time he brought her dessert.
“Can I peek?”
“Nope.” He threw one of his sexy crooked smiles her way.
Lunging forward, she snatched up the box. Wyatt let out a yelp of surprise and tried to tackle her, but she twisted at the last minute, rolled and came up with the box held out of his reach.
