A Man Of Honor. Tina Leonard
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by a man who was missing.
“Good morning.”
Cord’s eyes had suddenly opened to assess her from head to toe, while she was still trying to gather her wits so she wouldn’t succumb to the black-edged hysteria. “Is it?” she asked numbly.
“The wind has died down,” he said, rising from the chair. He settled the rifle on a buckhorn rack and stretched his long, tall body. “That’s something to be grateful for.”
Something inside her snapped. “I don’t care about the wind! I care about you sleeping in a recliner. You were really afraid someone might break into the house, weren’t you? You didn’t want them getting down the hall where I was! You slept right here!” She flung out a hand to indicate the chair in front of the fireplace. “Cord, I…I’m scared.” The tears she hadn’t let herself cry before pricked at her eyelids. “You shouldn’t have to change your life because of me. This is not your problem. If I leave here, you can—”
“Tessa. Stop,” he commanded.
She did, halting her disjointed rambling.
“My brother is missing,” he said quietly. “That changed my life. It doesn’t matter how or why right now. It matters that it’s a fact. I don’t know whether anyone is after you or not. I’m just overly suspicious because I have a brother in a dangerous job. But he would want me to look after your well-being. And his child’s.” He took a deep breath. “I think we’re better off trying to pull through this situation together. Have you ever thought about that? I need you as much as you need me. You and that baby are all of Hunt I have if those goons were for real and he’s dead.”
She’d never thought of it that way. “I’m sorry.” Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. “I didn’t mean to be selfish. I think the gun…startled me.”
He nodded. Silently, he took the rifle off the rack on the stone wall, unloaded it, put the shells in a box and locked everything in the gun cabinet. “There.”
She smiled hesitantly. “You’d think I’d be used to them, growing up in Crookseye Canyon.”
Shrugging, he said, “It doesn’t matter. It upset you, so I’ve put it away for now.”
For now.
She looked away.
“We don’t know what’s going to happen, Tessa. Let me make some calls. Hopefully, someone can give me the full story.” He stared at her, and Tessa was struck by the kindness in his eyes. There was compassion and deep concern. “In the meantime, do you mind sticking fairly close to the ranch today? Until I do enough checking to satisfy myself that those jokers last night weren’t genuine?”
“But if they were, then that means Hunt is d—”
“Don’t think about it.” His voice cut harshly across her words. “Knowing would be better than not knowing, but let’s not say it until we get confirmation.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
They held each other’s eyes for a moment.
“Would you mind making some toast while I put in some phone calls?”
She shook her head quickly, grateful for the chance to feel she was reciprocating his care of her. “I can burn toast with the best of them.”
“Great. I like charred bread. I’ll be in my office.”
He went into a room off the den, and Tessa looked at the back of him as he exited. Strong, capable. Both the Greer men had a lot of admirable qualities.
Hunt hadn’t loved her, though.
Intuition had told her a long time ago that Cord felt more toward her than brotherly. It was in his standoffish posture, in his discomfort when he was in the same room alone with her if Hunt went to do something while all three of them were in the house. It was the way she caught him watching her every once in a while, his eyes on her as if he was gazing at a fascinating, desirable treasure. His gaze would slip away guiltily if hers ever met it. She pretended not to notice. It was easier for everyone that way.
But it made the situation all the worse now. She wanted Hunt to be alive for the sake of their child. Deep inside, she knew Cord would consider it his obligation to raise Hunt’s child in the place of its missing father.
Tessa didn’t want that to be the case. She didn’t want to be an obligation. She didn’t want the people of Crookseye to laugh at her and her child because there was no father, and she didn’t want to succumb to the caring in Cord’s eyes. The truth was, letting him into her life would be taking advantage of him.
No matter how desperate her circumstances became, she would not allow herself to cross that line. There were all kinds of different honor codes: Hunt’s was for his country; Cord’s was for his family and homestead.
Tessa’s was for her child. This baby wasn’t going to be raised in the shame that had been her constant childhood companion. She would be proud of her child. She would be a loving mother. She would give this child the emotional security she had never known. She might have to raise her baby alone, but she would give it every last soul-nurturing ounce of what she had wanted all her life.
Love.
THUMP! NAN ASHLEY HIT Cord’s office window with a flying newspaper, dead on, the way she did every morning at this time to announce herself, but still he nearly shot out of his boots. His ears, straining for the slightest suspicious sound, screamed danger! with the heavy thud of noise against the pane. He cursed under his breath. Not at Nan, who tried so hard to unobtrusively care for him, but at the situation that had him so edgy.
He got up to open the half glass-paned, half wood door, letting in a burst of frigid air. “Howdy, neighbor.”
She stamped her snow boots on the raffia doormat outside his office. “Scared ya, didn’t I?” Her round, wrinkled face was rosy with delighted mischief.
“Yes, ma’am. This time. One day, I’m going to scare you. You’ll be surprised when a newspaper gets fired right back at you.”
“Ha.” She shrugged off his facetious retort and handed him the plastic-wrapped newspaper she always brought him although he rarely had time to read it. It was her excuse, her way of checking up on him. She glanced at him from head to toe. “Didn’t see your truck leave this a.m.”
“I…” He glanced guiltily at the doorway. “I overslept.”
“Hmm. Not like you. You ailing?”
“No, ma’am. Not in the least.”
“You ought to be eating a good breakfast every morning, Cord. At least a milk shake.” She sniffed the air warily. “What’s that smell?”
“Ah…”
Tessa walked in, not noticing Nan standing behind him, and extended the plate. “Cord, here’s your burned toast.”
Nan peered around his shoulder at Tessa—and then her offering. “Damn right,” she said laconically. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to toast bread, child?”
“Hello, Mrs. Ashley.” Startled, Tessa glanced at Cord, who shrugged. “I don’t suppose I’ve got much talent in the kitchen.”
“I’d say. On the other hand, it takes a special kind of woman to burn bread.” Nan’s gaze went from the plate to Tessa, to Cord and back to Tessa.
“Special?” Tessa repeated.
“Yep. Your attention was specially focused on something else.” She eyed Cord shrewdly. “Heard from Hunt?”
He didn’t dare glance at Tessa. “Hoping to soon.”
“Well.” Her alert gaze moved over each uncomfortable captive again. “Let me know if you do. I’m going to be working half days at the beauty salon starting today, so I can whip up a meal or two should you