Deadly Cover-Up. Julie Anne Lindsey

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      VIOLET WATCHED AS Wyatt grabbed the aged wood of the barn ladder and gave it a shake before climbing into the old loft. She’d never met anyone as big as Wyatt and watching him climb the ladder conjured memories of the giant on Jack’s beanstalk. Her grandma was wise to choose him. If anyone could protect her, this would be the guy. Everything about him screamed military training. She recognized his rigid stance and searching gaze. She’d seen similar traits in Maggie’s father, though the caution and compassion in Wyatt’s voice had never been present with her ex. Violet’s heart panged with regret at the unbidden memories rushing to the surface. She’d been naive to trust her heart so easily, and look where that had gotten her.

      Maggie wriggled and Violet kissed her soft brown curls. She lifted a hand to shield her sleeping face from another round of dust falling from the loft. At least she’d gotten Maggie from the carnage of her train wreck relationship. Awful as the love loss had been at the time, she’d gladly endure it again if that meant she’d get to be Maggie’s mama.

      Violet stepped away from the growing cloud of rustled dirt floating in the air. Soft scents of aged wood and dried hay slipped into her senses, sending a flood of nostalgia over Violet’s anxious limbs. “I used to spend hours in that loft,” she said, letting her voice carry to Wyatt. “Grandpa died when I was in middle school, and Grandma sold the animals, but I still came out here.” Trying to feel near him.

      The creaking boards went silent. Wyatt had stopped to listen. “What was up here then?”

      “Just hay and me.”

      “What did you do?”

      She smiled at the massive Wyatt-shaped shadow on the wall. He must’ve gotten his cell phone light out again. “Read. I was going to be a pilot like Amelia Earhart, or a Nobel Prize–winner like Marie Curie. Maybe a scientist like Jane Goodall.” Violet had bored her grandma to death recounting all the things she’d learned up there.

      “Are you?” Wyatt’s deep tenor voice carried through the quiet air.

      Violet chuckled, bouncing Maggie gently against her chest. “What? A pilot or Nobel Prize–winner or scientist? No. I’m a fifth-grade language arts teacher.” As it turned out, Violet enjoyed telling others the things she knew more than she wanted to go off and do them herself. She only wished her grandpa had lived to see her with her class, sharing the stories he’d loved with them. He would’ve been so proud. And he would have loved Maggie.

      Wyatt’s steady footfall moved back toward the ladder. “There’s a good-sized bare spot up here. Looks like either something pretty big was kept here or someone was clearing a spot for some reason.”

      “How would anything get up there?” That was the whole conundrum, wasn’t it? “Grandma couldn’t carry anything up a ladder, especially something large.” And they’d already established that she hadn’t fallen from the ladder. She’d probably never even been on it.

      Wyatt’s long legs swung into view, and he returned to her side by way of the creaky rungs. “Take a look.” He brushed his hands against his thighs, then turned his camera to face her. A picture of the dispersed hay overhead centered the screen.

      “It looks like someone was just kicking it around to me,” Violet said. “The whole floor is dusty. The space would be cleaner if something had been there long.”

      Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, then the thick black stubble over his cheeks. “You’re right. I should’ve seen that.” He pressed his fingertips against heavy-lidded eyes. “I know you’ve had an awful day, and you’re still deciding what to think of me, but can I trouble you for some coffee? I’ve got enough work to keep me busy a while, and I’ve been on the road all day.”

      Violet pulled her gaze to the open barn door and back. She’d checked out Wyatt’s company website on her cell phone, using the business card he’d given her, while she’d waited briefly outside. Under the tab with details about the protectors for hire, she’d found photos of Wyatt. Posing in his dress greens. Running drills in fatigues. He seemed to be who he said he was. One founder of a private protection firm in Lexington. “What kind of work do you have to do tonight?”

      He dropped his hands to his sides, then stuffed long fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t see any signs of forced entry inside the home, so I’d like to replace the locks and dead bolts for starters, install motion lights at the front and back of the house, and add chains on the main entries.”

      “You’re doing all that tonight?” Violet squeaked. Did he think that whoever had broken in and knocked her down might come back? A shiver coursed over her and she held Maggie tighter.

      “Basic precautions,” he said. “I’ve got everything I need in my truck, and a copy of your grandma’s contract if you want to see it. Given the circumstances, I think she’d allow that.”

      Suddenly, the stranger before her seemed like the safer, handsomer of two unknowns. Violet was certain she’d sleep better with new locks and a trained military man under her roof. Besides, it was after ten already, and Maggie never slept past six. If Violet didn’t get to bed soon, she wouldn’t get much sleep.

      Wyatt ducked his head. “I don’t mind sleeping in my truck and starting tomorrow if that makes you more comfortable.” He moved toward the string for the light and slowed for Violet to pass. “You’ve been through a lot today, and I’ve slept in that truck more often than my bed this month. I’d still like to get the new locks on first.” His cheek ticked up in a lazy half smile before he shut it down.

      Violet stopped to face him. She chewed her lip in indecision. “Why did Grandma choose you?”

      “I’m the best.”

      Violet made a show of rolling her eyes, silently thankful for his efforts at levity given the day she’d had. “Humble, too.”