Sixteen
Nathan Fortune heard car wheels crunching up the driveway through the open kitchen window at his family’s ranch outside the tiny town of Paseo, Texas. It was almost noon, but he’d just made his second pot of coffee for the day.
Ignoring whoever was stopping by for an unannounced visit, he poured a steaming stream of coffee into a mug, took a big gulp, then promptly spit it into the sink. Grimacing, he grabbed a container of vanilla creamer from the refrigerator and dumped a generous amount into his cup. While it wasn’t up to the standards of his brother’s wife, at least it was palatable.
He’d never realized he made coffee that tasted like tar until late last spring when Ariana Lamonte arrived on the ranch. Hope sparked inside him that maybe Jayden and Ariana had returned to the ranch from their research trip down to Corpus Christi. They weren’t scheduled to be back until next week, but if they were here now he could definitely convince Ariana to make him a cup of coffee in that fancy espresso maker he and the third triplet, Grayson, had gotten for her last Christmas.
During his time as a navy SEAL, he’d come to master over a dozen different types of guns, but that shiny machine remained a mystery to him. Ariana loved coffee, and Nate needed caffeine like he needed air when memories of that final mission in Afghanistan kept him up at night. Sometimes he slept like the dead, and even managed to convince himself that he was getting over that last tragic mission. But then he’d wake in a cold sweat, nightmares prodding at him like an insistent finger, making sure he knew he could never move past the way he’d failed the man who had been his best friend.
The doorbell rang, and he sighed. Definitely not his brother and Ariana. He took another swig of coffee and wiped a sleeve across his mouth, approaching the front door slowly. Most people in Paseo knew Nate well enough to simply call out a greeting and let themselves in. Actually, most people would assume he was out working the land at this time of day. Normally they’d be right, except he’d been up half the night and needed coffee to keep him going—even the kind that tasted like burnt tar.
He opened the front door almost warily, not sure what to expect. Ever since he and his brothers had discovered that the father they thought had died during their mom’s pregnancy was not only alive, but was tech mogul Gerald Robinson, and more specifically Jerome Fortune, there was no telling who might show up on Nate’s doorstep. Jerome Fortune had faked his own death over thirty years ago, shortly after a fight with Nate’s mom, to make a break with his own controlling father, but as Gerald Robinson, he not only had eight legitimate children with his wife, Charlotte, but a host of illegitimate offspring.
Nothing could have prepared Nate for his body’s reaction to the woman who stood on his front porch, glancing around like she was more than a little lost. He didn’t recognize her, although there was something familiar in the big brown eyes that looked into his. What was wholly unfamiliar was the sharp prick of desire that stabbed him as he took in her delicate features—those molten chocolate eyes, a pert nose and lips that looked almost bee-stung in fullness despite being pressed into a tight line.
Her hair was thick and dark like her eyes, tumbling around her shoulders. She wore a plain white T-shirt over faded jeans, and Nate swallowed as his gaze took in the perfect curve of her breasts and hips. He promptly cursed himself for his line of thought. Here was a stranger at his front door, and he was ogling her like some sort of randy teenager instead of a grown man of thirty-seven.
“Can I help you?” he asked, hoping he sounded more polite than lecherous.
“Hi, Nate,” she said softly. “How are you?”
“Um...fine.” He took off his Stetson, slapping it against his thigh, and ran a hand through his hair with his other hand. “Do I know you?”
The woman flashed a shy smile. “I’m Bianca Shaw. Eddie’s sister. Don’t you remember me?”
Nate lifted one hand to grip the doorframe, whether to steady himself or to keep himself from reaching for Bianca, he couldn’t say. The beautiful woman in front of him was Eddie’s little sister?
“Busy Bee,” he murmured, repeating the nickname Eddie’d used for his younger sister.
She gave a short laugh. “I haven’t had someone call me that since...” Her voice trailed off as her hands clenched in tight fists at her side.
“I’m sorry about Eddie,” he offered, the words tasting like dust in his mouth. “He died a hero.” Nate cleared his throat. “If it helps.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, and swiped her fingers across her cheek.
The familiar regret and blame churned through his stomach, turning the coffee he’d drunk to acid in his belly. Eddie Shaw had been like a brother to him. They’d met their first day of Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training—more routinely known as BUD/S. Although as a triplet, Nate had always been close to his brothers, he’d formed an immediate bond with the stocky, wisecracking soldier that was just as strong.
From the few times he’d been to Eddie’s mom’s cramped apartment in San Antonio, he remembered Eddie’s sister as a gangly teenager who giggled at everything and constantly tried to tag along with the brother who was nine years older than her. Eddie had been infinitely patient with Bianca, and even when they were stationed overseas or on a ship, he’d always taken the time to answer her overly perfumed letters and all the silly questions she asked about life as a navy SEAL.
“You’re here in Paseo,” he said, stating the obvious because his brain felt about five steps behind the reality of whatever was happening right now.
“I’m here,” she echoed and bit down on her bottom lip, her gaze skittering away from his like she was nervous about something. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”
Nate had met people from all over the world and all different walks of life during his stint in the US Navy. He’d become something of an expert on reading body language, and from the splotches of color blooming on Bianca’s cheeks to the rigid set of her thin shoulders to the tiny breath she blew out as if her lungs couldn’t handle Paseo’s clean air, Nate would have sworn on everything he had that the woman standing in front of him was in trouble.
Eddie’s sister was in trouble. The brother-in-arms whom Nate had failed to save during their last mission wouldn’t have let that happen. Neither would Nate. All he had left of Eddie were memories and the guilt that burned his gut. But he could honor Eddie by taking care of Bianca. It was the only thing he had left to offer.
He pushed aside his reaction to her, pretended he didn’t feel attraction pulsing through him like a drum beat and tried to see her as the girl she’d once been. Eddie’s baby sister. That was all she could ever be to Nate.
“What do you need, Bianca?” he asked, wishing suddenly he was a different kind of man. One who could give her everything she wanted and more.
* * *
Bianca’s
