elderly civilians. Word spread like wildfire. I suppose she found me that way.”
Violet narrowed her eyes. “So you targeted women and old folks.”
He nodded confidently. “Statistically they’re the most common targets for violent crimes, harassment and stalking. I wanted to make a difference, not play bodyguard for some rich jerks.”
Violet mulled the answer, impressed yet again. “You were planning to stay with Grandma while you’re in River Gorge?”
“That was the agreement,” he said. Wyatt matched his pace to hers as they walked back across the lawn to Grandma’s home. “I have a week blocked off on my calendar for this, but I can stay longer if something changes. Mrs. Ames only said she had something to take care of, and she wanted the freedom to do it without having to watch over her shoulder.” He grinned, sneaking a quick look in Violet’s direction. “I was going to be her nephew, visiting from Lexington.”
Violet rubbed the creases she felt gathering on her forehead. That cover story made Wyatt her relative, and it didn’t say much about her, given the things she’d already thought about him. Like how nice he might look without a shirt. Or pants.
She turned her heated cheeks away.
It wasn’t like her grandma to meddle, so Violet could only assume that whatever was going on had been dropped into her lap. And it must be something big to force Grandma’s involvement and require a bodyguard.
She slowed at the front porch and turned to face Wyatt. “Will you be able to find out if her fall was an accident?”
“Yes.”
“And if it wasn’t, will you find out who hurt her?”
He dipped his chin in sharp confirmation. “I won’t leave town till I do.”
Violet evaluated the giant before her. He certainly seemed legit, and her grandma had chosen him. She’d even trusted him to stay with her while she did whatever it was that she was doing. “Okay,” she said, resting her cheek on top of Maggie’s head. “You can stay, and you don’t need to sleep in your truck.” She marched up the steps before she changed her mind. “I’ll make up the couch and put on the coffee.”
They went their separate ways then. Wyatt to his truck for his bags. Violet to set up a portable crib for Maggie in her grandmother’s bedroom. She returned a few minutes later with a baby monitor and bedding to cover the couch.
Wyatt was already hard at work changing door locks in the kitchen. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t let me in tonight,” he said, attention fixed on the open door and his work.
“I wouldn’t have cared,” she said with a smile. If she’d suspected he was a danger to Maggie, his feelings would have been the least of her concerns.
Wyatt released a low chuckle. “Fair enough.”
She started the coffee, then stuck a mug under the drip. “Cream or sugar?”
He shook his head in the negative. “Just the caffeine.”
“Right.” She carried the cup of coffee to her handsome handyman, then turned in a small circle, deciding where to begin remedying the mess left by an intruder.
She started with shutting cupboards and drawers, then moved on to clearing the counters. “What do you think Grandma was looking into that made her so afraid that she called you?”
“Well.” Wyatt shut the back door and tested the locks before tossing a set of identical keys onto the counter and unearthing a chain system from his bag. “Could be anything.” He lined the chain’s casing against the door’s edge and cast a look in her direction. “Did she say anything unusual to you lately?”
Heat crept over Violet’s cheeks as she struggled to recall the last time she’d spoken to her grandma. “We don’t talk as much as we used to. I’ve been busy since Maggie was born.”
“How old is your baby?”
Violet chewed her bottom lip, debating how much to tell him about her life “Eight months. She didn’t sleep for the first four, but she seems to be making up for it now.”
He smiled.
“I can’t complain. Even single moms need a break sometime, right?”
Wyatt’s sharp brown eyes snapped in her direction. His gaze drifted to her left hand, then rose to her eyes. “Not married?”
“No. Never. How about you?” she asked. “Any children? Got a Mrs. Stone at home?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Why not?” The words were out before she’d thought better of them. Then again, maybe this was the smart move. If he’d openly admit his inevitable defects, then she’d stop imagining the snare of electricity coursing between them at every turn. The fact that they were virtual strangers should have been enough to keep her from wondering what his hands might feel like on her hips or in her hair, but it hadn’t. Maybe knowing he was a womanizer, gambling addict or married to his job would do the trick.
“I hear I’m a pain in the ass,” he said, making the final few twists of his screwdriver. “Apparently, I’m cynical, distrusting and tenacious to a fault.”
Violet laughed. “Comes with the job, I’d suppose.”
“You’re not joking.” He slid the chain into the slot and tested the door. “I make my brothers crazy, and I’ve guarded their lives in combat. If they can’t handle me, I’m not sure why anyone else would want to try.”
Violet swept a pile of broken glass onto a dustpan and transported it into the trash. “How many brothers do you have? Any sisters?”
“No siblings.” Wyatt frowned over his shoulder. “Sorry. I meant my brothers-in-arms. Sometimes I forget they aren’t my blood, but we are undeniably family. Sawyer, Jack, Cade and I formed Fortress Security about two years after my military discharge. We’ve all tried to fit back into our civilian lives, but it didn’t work for us. We’re too far changed, and our particular skill sets don’t translate well to civilian life.” Wyatt packed up his tools, jaw clenched. “Eventually I decided to open a business where we could do what we’ve been trained to do. Guard and protect.”
Violet’s stomach tilted at the mention of his military service. “What branch did you serve in?” Maggie’s dad was a marine.
“US Army Rangers.” He seemed to stand impossibly taller as he reported the information. “Sawyer and Jack were, too. We met at Fort Benning.” Pride puffed his chest and deepened his voice.
Violet found herself drifting closer, hungry to know more. “A security firm run by army rangers? Also impressive.”
“It would be,” he said, smiling, “but Sawyer’s brother, Cade, was a jarhead.”
Violet’s mouth went dry. She didn’t mean to judge an entire branch of the US military by the actions of one pregnant-girlfriend-abandoning creep, but the association was there nonetheless, roiling in her gut.
“We’ve all got our mottoes
