The Romeo Arrangement

Mine and Dad’s.

Not a reclusive movie star’s.

“I see Corny sweet-talked you into letting him outside,” Ridge says, arriving at the open doors leading into the corral. “Hope your ears aren’t bleeding too much.”

“I hope it’s all right,” I say, cracking a smile. “The horses need some exercise. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“No need. The rooster does what he wants, when he wants, and he’s happy to shout it from the rafters. This is his kingdom.” Ridge waves a hand back at the barn. “He’s got it made here, and he knows it. He’s not leaving and abandoning all of this for cougar territory.”

There’s a soft breeze blowing. I hold my face up, letting it wash over me.

I never imagined I’d want to be a chicken—a rooster, specifically—but what Ridge said is true.

Cornelius has it made.

Anyone who lives here has their own lovely slice of peace and quiet. It hurts my heart how rare, how unreachable that seems.

“How’s Nelson doing this morning?”

“He slept well last night,” I say. Then, because I’m so worried, I add, “I’m not sure if it’s the meds or if he’s…”

“What?” he presses, those blue eyes shifting a shade darker, soft seas to midnight blue.

“I don’t know. Getting worse. He slept almost all day yesterday and last night. That’s not like him.”

“The sandman’s a hell of a healer, darlin’.”

“I know,” I admit, huffing out a breath. I just can’t get past what the pharmacist said about pneumonia.

I’d searched the symptoms last night.

Dad has them all. He also has what seems like congestive heart failure, just like the ER doc suggested, and a whole conglomerate of other illnesses that made me bite my lip with worry.

“I’ve got a guy showing up here soon,” Ridge says. “No one to worry about. He’s a neighbor and a friend, part of the Dallas police. Drake Larkin.”

“Oh?” I’m sure he wants me to know so I don’t freak out, seeing a stranger around.

That’s thoughtful, but it also makes me feel like a complete nervous Nellie.

“We talked. I didn’t tell him everything, but he knows about those fucks and the SUV. He’s bringing over some surveillance equipment to help reinforce this place.”

My spine shivers. I glance his way, staring at his profile.

He’s incredible from every angle. The scattered light and darkness dancing across that corded, rock-hard body captures my attention, makes it way too hard to rip my eyes away.

Holy Toledo.

I chide myself for having thoughts like this in the middle of a situation that just keeps getting better by the day.

I’m only human, though. Sex has been the furthest thing from my mind for so long it might as well belong to an alternate universe.

Ridge is a man sculpted with a perfect hand that never touches most mortals.

A rich, powerful, built, and yes, freakishly kindhearted soul who makes me go to pieces because I can’t stand it.

Can’t handle being the one who’s hurting him, messing up his life.

Yesterday, when he’d hugged me in his office, I’d—I swallow.

Damn. It felt good, despite how pissed I was. So good, just being held like that, even when I went off on him like a crazy person for mentioning his mom’s ashes.

I owe him an explanation for lashing out like a crazy woman, but this isn’t the time or place.

He turns, catches me staring at him, and grins.

Welp, here comes the blush. Cornelius’ cherry-red comb isn’t the brightest thing here anymore.

I look away while I still can.

“You okay? All this talk about security isn’t too much, is it?” he asks softly.

I shake my head fiercely.

I’m…totally not fine.

“The house has a top-notch security system,” he goes on. “But I’ve decided to beef it up as a precaution.”

A familiar, crushing weight returns to my shoulders.

“Because of us,” I whisper, hanging my head.

“Because you’re staying,” he says, unabashed. “Because I need to spot any braindead goon stupid enough to step foot on my property so I can kick their asses to Egypt and back. That’s a long damn trip, Grace.”

I burst out laughing. He’s so ridiculous, but I love that it makes this kind of talk less than the fear-fest it’d be otherwise.

“Ridge—”

“Don’t tell me it’s not necessary, because it is, and my mind’s made up. You and your old man are crashing here for as long as it takes.”

Whoa. He’s all kinds of serious, judging by the hot glint in his eye.

He takes my hand, squeezes it, flooding my system with a new deluge of mixed up emotions.

“I do have one favor to ask,” he says.

Part of me wants to laugh. A favor?

I owe him a hell of a lot more for everything he’s already done for us. And I guess if he needs to know more about Clay, about his minions, then maybe it’s time to put on my game face, get over the agony, and tell him.