LITMIR.BIZ

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surprised at his proposed consideration toward her father. Why should this Romeo care about an old man with early dementia? Or care enough about her to carry her to the door of the condo? He set her down and placed his hands at her waist to hold her up as she teetered on one foot while unlocking the door. Although his body wasn’t blatantly touching hers, the heat from him all but singed the back of her shirt. His nearness flustered her so badly, she could barely hit the lock with the key.

      After several failed tries, his warm hand engulfed hers and inserted the key. Damn, if it didn’t feel so good, she almost turned the lock again so he’d have to help her one more time. What in the world was wrong with her? Her hormonal reactions were all over the place. One time, he’d touch her and she’d prickle with annoyance and the next she’d get all hot and bothered. It had to be the head injury. Wade’s punch must have left some lasting effects.

      She opened the door. “Dad, are you still awake?” Barclay lifted her and carried her inside.

      Her dad sat on an old rocker, a bag of Cheetos on his lap and the TV blaring. “Sure am. Been waiting on you. What time does that store close anyway?” His paternal gaze zeroed in on her face and slid to her bandaged foot. He bolted from his chair, a few orange curls falling out of the bag when it hit the floor. “What in the hell happened? Why can’t you walk?” His fingers curled into fists as he narrowed his eyes on Barclay. “You hurt my little girl?”

      “No sir.” Barclay carried her to the plastic covered sofa and laid her so her head was on the armrest. He shifted and extended his hand. “I’m Barclay Gray, sir.”

      Her dad shook his hand, a quizzical expression played across his features as his scrutiny slipped from Barclay to her. “Name’s Sam Devon.” He jerked his head toward the empty end of the sofa. “Suppose you have a seat while my daughter explains why she’s all battered and bruised again.” He reached for the remote and turned off the television.

      Barclay lifted her feet and sat so they were elevated on his thick thighs while she shifted to her side to face her dad and told him what happened.

      He ran his wide palm over his mouth, his whiskered stubble rasping in the silence of the room. “Wade followed us here?” His voice was incredulous as if he couldn’t grasp the reality of the situation. “The bastard tried to tie you up and take you away from me?” He glanced around the living area, his gaze turning wild. “Tammy, come here and listen to this! You won’t believe what’s happened to our little girl.”

      His confusion was back. “Daddy, Momma’s not here.” It was no use to tell him she was dead; he’d only start crying again.

      “Did she go to the store for milk and bread? I hope she remembers the ice cream.”

      “Sam?” Barclay leaned forward, his forearms over his spread thighs, sliding her feet against his firm abdomen. “Do you recall a place called Verne’s Cabins?”

      A smile broke through her dad’s muddled mind. “Yup, sure do. Me and Tammy spent our honeymoon there and every February since. ʼTwas always a slow month for carpentry work, so I’d bring the wife and daughter here. Place is closed up now. That’s how we ended up in this dump.” He scowled as if he’d tasted Aunt Willa’s prune cake. “Walls are paper thin. Hell, you can hear couples screwing, moanin’ and a groanin’.”

      “Well, sir, Verne was my uncle.”

      Her dad settled back in the rocking chair. “You don’t say?”

      “A massive heart attack took him a year ago. He willed the property to me and I’m trying to remodel the place. You wouldn’t feel up to swinging a hammer a couple hours a day, would you? I could use the help and some advice from an experienced man like you. There’re lots of things about carpentry I just don’t know. I could use an advisor.”

      Molly stared at Barclay. His invitation for her dad to be both a helper and a carpentry mentor was totally unexpected. The man’s personality had many facets. She wasn’t sure what her opinion of him was, but there was no doubting she appreciated his kindness toward her father.

      Her dad’s chest puffed out. “Hell’s bells, ain’t been a hammer made that didn’t fit this old hand.” He waved his arthritic right arm.

      “Your daughter was telling me what a fine worker you were.” Her dad smiled in response to Barclay’s compliment. “Sam, if you think the two of you can stay here another night, I’ll help move you into the apricot unit I’m almost through fixing up. Still needs painting and furniture moved in. You could work off your rent by helping me a few hours in the morning before it gets so hot.”

      He glanced at her and then her dad. “I’ve installed a security gate. I think you’ll be pretty safe there. Wade would need the code to get in.”

      “I’m worried about her, son. This is the second time the sombitch put marks on her. She’s a good girl. Spirited, like her momma, but never been in any trouble. She’s got a heart of gold under all the attitude she’s had of late.”

      Barclay stared at her for a minute, his gaze sweeping over her face almost like a warm caress. What was up with that?

      “I won’t let him hurt her again. Not as long as the two of you are here in Indian Rocks Beach.” He placed her feet on the sofa before he stood and bent to the floor to pick up the spilled snack and return the bag to her dad. The Cheetos he’d plucked from the carpet, he tossed into the wastepaper can by her dad’s chair.

      He clasped his hand on her dad’s shoulder, stopping his rocking. “Meanwhile, Sam, I think you’re gonna have a pretty hard job on your hands. Molly needs to rest and keep her ankle elevated. That means no more working for her while you’re on vacation, except for her website design business. She can prop her ankle up while she does whatever she does on her computer.”

      Barclay placed a throw pillow where he’d been sitting earlier and shifted her down so her feet lay on it. Raising her head, he sat, placing it on his lap and sifting his fingers through her hair, making her relax all over. “Getting her to listen might be a job in itself. She hasn’t complained, but both her head and her ankle have to hurt like hell. Bastard kicked her in the side, too, but I don’t think he broke any ribs. Still, she’s going to be in a world of hurt for a day or two.”

      Her dad narrowed his eyes on her. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Barclay. I’ll keep her in line.”

      “Bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

      “Sugar.” Barclay’s deep and sensual whisper made her female parts stand up and do the hula.

      “I owe you a debt of gratitude for rescuing her from Wade and fixing her up the way you did. Strangers helping strangers just don’t happen like it used to. I thank you, Barclay.”

      “You’re welcome, sir.” He shifted and slipped his cell from his pocket. “Molly, how about you give me your cell phone number so I can call tomorrow before I come over to pack up your stuff and move you out? Don’t give me that mule-headed glare. You know you’re going to need some help. Besides we need to stop at the police station so you can sign the complaint.”

      He thumbed in her number when she rattled it off and showed it to her, asking if he’d gotten it correct. She noted in place of her name, he’d put Sugar. If it wouldn’t have hurt her sprained ankle so much she’d have kicked his fine ass to the door.

      Her dad grinned and rubbed his hands together. “We’ll be in our little beach cottage tomorrow night, Molly, with the sounds of the waves lulling us to sleep. You won’t have to work at two jobs. I won’t have to be alone so much, plus I’ll have a part-time job. Things are looking up.” He turned to Barclay. “You promise you’ll protect her from Wade?”

      “Or die trying.”

      Her dad stared at him for several minutes. “You a married man?”

      She bolted to a sitting position. “Dad!”

      His bald head barely turned in her direction. “It’s an honest

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