Her gaze suddenly lit on an unfamiliar truck parked next to her own. She squinted and tried to make out more details about the beat-up old jalopy. The thing looked worse than hers, and that was saying something. As she neared the house she heard several raps against her front door. Sabrina hastened her step, all but running around the corner of the house. She didn’t get many callers these days, and she didn’t want this one to inadvertently wake up her sleeping child. She still had more outside work to do.
Who would be dropping by this time of day, anyway? Most folks she knew were busy working until dusk. God, she hoped nothing had happened to Charlie.
A tall, broad-shouldered man, his back turned to her, stood at her front door.
“Can I help you?” she called hesitantly as she neared the porch. There was something familiar about his stance, she decided just as he turned around.
Court.
A chunk of ice formed in Sabrina’s stomach. Had someone told him about Ryan? Could he know already? She resisted the impulse to shake her head. That couldn’t be. No one knew Court was Ryan’s father. No one but the doctor, that is.
“What do you want?” Sabrina asked coldly.
That gray gaze settled onto hers, and Sabrina’s heart took an extra foolish beat. How could any man look that good? Mile-wide shoulders, lean waist. She shook herself. This was no time to be admiring Court’s many physical assets. He was standing on her porch, only a few feet from where Ryan lay sleeping. She suddenly remembered the monitor she held and quickly tucked it into the back of her waistband. Her heart bumped into high speed.
“We need to talk, Brin.”
His voice was low, steady, and too gentle. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to look at him. “I’d like you to leave, Court,” she said sternly. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”
Sabrina stood her ground near the steps. She would not give him any remote hope that he might be invited in. To her utter relief he moved across the porch and down the steps, his slow, fluid movements making it difficult for her to breathe. There had always been something about the way he moved. It was more than mere male cockiness…something sensual yet predatory.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He slowly rotated his hat in his hands, his gaze seemingly uncertain. Could he be nervous? She almost laughed out loud at that notion. The one thing Court Brody had always been was absolutely certain of himself. And with good reason. He was strong, powerfully built, and more intelligent than any man she had ever known.
But his heart was hardened with bitterness and resentment. And nothing Sabrina had ever done had changed that.
“I wish you’d reconsider, Brin.”
He still called her Brin. No one but Court had ever called her by that nickname past the age of fifteen. Not even her father.
“Don’t call me that.” She swiped her damp palms against her thighs. “No one calls me that anymore.”
“I need you to understand how important being a part of the militia is for me.”
His words stunned her. “You are kidding?” she blurted. “You don’t see through Neely?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I thought you were some big, hotshot FBI agent. What happened, Court? Did you get bored with that, too?” Lord knew the man had a restless streak a mile wide, one that cut straight through that rock in his chest he called a heart.
He blinked but gave away nothing of his feelings. Just like always, she would never know what he was really feeling.
“I don’t want to talk about the Bureau or D.C.” He stared at the ground a moment. “I’m trying to put that behind me.” His gaze latched onto hers once more. “I want to start over. Here.”
If she’d thought he’d stunned her before, she was completely astonished now. “Here?” she parroted. “Now I know you’re joking.”
A muscle twitched in his chiseled jaw. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Sabrina laughed dryly. “It’s downright unfathomable.”
Irritation marred his handsome features. “Be that as it may, I’m back. I don’t think folks around here would understand about my time in the Bureau. I’d rather you didn’t mention it.”
“I see,” she replied with sudden clarity. “You don’t want Brother Neely to know you were once an actual fed, is that it?”
“Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be, Brin,” he warned. This time there was nothing at all gentle about his tone.
He stepped nearer…too close. Sabrina held her ground, despite the butterflies taking flight in her stomach.
“No one else knows but you,” he reminded in a low, lethal tone that sent shivers skittering up her spine. “But I’m not worried ’cause I know you wouldn’t do anything to make trouble for me.”
He had her there. No matter what he’d done in the past. No matter how badly he had hurt her. Sabrina would never do anything to hurt him—except keep her own secret. But that was to protect Ryan, she rationalized, when she knew damn well it was to protect herself. She couldn’t lose her son. No way.
She remembered to exhale. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it,” she said tightly.
Those silvery depths softened then, and he almost smiled. The quirking of his lips was so subtle that had she not been looking at him so intently she would surely have missed the movement. Her pulse fluttered at the absolute beauty of those lips.
“I owe you,” he murmured, even closer now.
Panic trickled through her, slowing her body’s instant fight-or-flight reaction to his proximity. Ryan could wake up any moment and start screaming for his mommy—or worse, he could climb out of the crib and toddle onto the porch. That image opened the floodgates of her anxiety.
“I’d like you to leave now, Court.” She started to take a step back, but he moved again, stalling her. His hand came up to her face, and those long, tanned fingers smoothed that forever-errant wisp of hair from her cheek. Warmth spread through her so fast that it made her light-headed. How could a mere touch affect her so?
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Brin.” He searched her eyes, looking for forgiveness or maybe just trying to read what he saw there. “I hope you know that.”
“We’re not talking about the past, remember?” she protested, however shakily.
He swallowed hard. She watched the slow movement of muscle beneath smooth, tanned skin. “Right.” He studied her face a moment longer, as if committing to memory the changes time and worry had wrought.
“Goodbye, Court.” This time Sabrina stepped away from him. She needed distance. And a new heart. One that wouldn’t let Court Brody inside.
“I’ll be back,” he warned, “and then we’ll set things straight.”
Sabrina watched him stalk back to his truck. He dropped behind the wheel, and then drove away. She didn’t move until he’d disappeared in the direction of town—or more accurately, the militia compound.
“Don’t come back, Court,” she murmured, her heart sinking. “I can’t survive losing you again.”
CHAPTER TWO
STILL TIRED FROM yesterday’s cleaning frenzy, Sabrina smiled for her son and ruffled his silky brown hair. He gurgled