lori king rough ride romeo (4 page)

with PTSD, Crawley Creek had grown leaps and bounds in just a few short

months. They kept the rooms in the main house empty for now, with plans to use

the rooms for foster children if they could get approval from the state, but the

guest cabins on the ranch were filling up quickly with individuals needing an

escape from their troubles and a few weeks of solace.

Parking near the barn they used as a makeshift garage, he hurried around

the truck to open Franki’s door. He was slightly perturbed to find it already open

and her shimmying her cute ass down the couple of feet to the ground. She

reached out and shut the door, tipping her chin defiantly at him, as if daring him

to question the move. He just shrugged and gestured toward the open bay door of

the barn.

It seemed dimly lit after being out in the sun, but Roman knew exactly

where he was going as he led her into the building and over to a pair of legs

poking out from underneath a riding lawn mower.

“Vin, can I interrupt you for a minute?” He took a seat on the bumper of a

Jeep that Vin had found in some junkyard and planned to fix up.

“I’m kinda busy, Romeo, what is it?” Vin’s muffed voice responded.

“I know, man. I’m sorry to bug ya, but I kinda had a bit of an accident in

the parking lot at Mick’s—”

The speed with which Vin was able to pul himself out from under the

mower was astounding, but the shock that registered on his usually hard-edged

face was almost comical. “An accident? Are you okay?”

Roman’s hands spread and he nodded, “Just fine, but I can’t say the same for

Franki’s bike.”

Vin turned to look at Franki and a spike of jealousy shot through Roman at

the interest in his brother’s eyes. He hurried to clear up the confusion and distract

the other man. “I sort of backed over her motorcycle. It’s in the back of my truck

now. I figured I owed it to her to get the best mechanic in the state on the project

ASAP.”

Ignoring Roman, Vin reached for his bandana and wiped his hands off

before offering a hand to Franki. “I’m Vincent Rhone, but my friends call me

Vin.”

“Franki Scott. I hope Roman isn’t just feeding me a bullshit line about you

being the best.” She politely took Vin’s hand but released it quickly. Roman was

pleased when she took a step closer to him and farther away from Vin.

“There isn’t a vehicle around I can’t fix.” Vin said with a smirk, tossing the

rag he’d used on the hood of the Jeep. “Lead the way and we’ll see what she

needs.”

Franki headed back out the way they came, and Vin followed behind,

eyeballing her ass. Roman’s hand shot out and smacked the back of his brother’s

head, earning him a smirk. If ever there was a time to lay claim to a female it was

when she was introduced to one’s older brother.

It took Vin all of five seconds to determine that he would need to order parts

for the bike and that Franki would be enjoying their hospitality for at least a week.

“If you need to go somewhere we can probably get you a loaner car for the

time being…” Vin told her, glancing at Roman for the follow-up. “Or Roman

could pay for you to rent a car, but you’ll still have to come back here to get the

bike when it’s finished.”

Franki looked lost as she stared at her bike, and this time Roman didn’t stop

himself from moving in close and resting his palm on the small of her back. At

first, she was tense and started to pull away, but he just shushed her and stepped

closer. For several moments, she just stared at the mangled bike, while he stroked

his hand up and down her back, but when her chin finally dropped and her eyes

squeezed shut he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her in for a hug. Her head

rested against his chest, and her warmth seeped into him. She fit against him

perfectly, her soft breasts pillowing against his lower ribs, and the sweet fragrance

of apricot on her hair fowed through his nose. It was a powerful moment that

Roman really couldn’t have explained to anyone. This petite phenom needed

someone to lean on, and he had a feeling she’d been needing it for way too long.

“Tell me what your plans were, sugar, and I’ll find a way to put them back

on track,” he murmured to her. Vin watched from the other side of the truck

until Roman caught his eye and gestured him away. His gut was telling him that

Franki wasn’t going to open her shell up to just anyone, but he wasn’t going to

stop trying.

“I don’t know. My plan was to come to Montford. Vivi was supposed to be

here.” Her voice sounded hollow, but there was a wealth of emotion in her words.

Roman just held her tight, running his hand up and down her back in the same

gentle motion. He could remember his foster mom Sera using it on him when he

was sick as a kid, and it seemed to work on Franki as well.

“Maybe Vivi is running late. Does she live here?” Roman prodded.

“No, she’s…” her words drifted off and she seemed to remember where she

was. Her body went tense again and she took a step backwards out of his

embrace. “She’s my sister, and she’s not late. She was here before I was. I have to

find her.” Shoving her hands in her pockets, Franki looked at the bike once more

and then sighed. “Can you show me where I’m sleeping, so that I can regroup?

And I’ll want to borrow a car later to go back into town and check for Vivi

again.”

“Wouldn’t she just call you to set another time up?”

Why would Franki be so upset that her sister didn’t make their appointed

date? Maybe they hadn’t seen each other for a while. A niggling feeling in the

back of his brain told him that there was more to her stay in Montford than she

was ready to spill, and based on the bike repairs, he had at least a week to feel out

her secrets, so he left it alone for now.

When Franki answered, her words were just a sad whisper, and they left

Roman feeling even more confused. “I wish she could.” She didn’t give him a

chance to question her further though. In a fash, she’d gone back to the

passenger side of the truck and collected her stuff. It looked like she was at least

agreeing to stay at the ranch for the time being, and Roman wasn’t about to give

her a reason to change her mind.

Reaching for her hand, he rolled his eyes when she shook him off, and put

his palm against her lower back again instead. As they walked up to the ranch

house together, Roman realized that for the first time in months his first priority

wasn’t finding another drink—it was seeing Franki smile.

Chapter 5

Franki couldn’t fault the residents of Crawley Creek on their hospitality.

Roman had introduced her to Marilyn, who had quickly swept her into the fold

assigning her the Sunfower room, and bustling her into the kitchen for a late

brunch of biscuits and sausage gravy. She had no idea where Roman ran off to,

but she was telling herself she didn’t care as she enjoyed the pampering. Franki

had never seen anyone cook with a cast iron pan, and she was fascinated by the

older woman’s energy level.

“Are you still hungry dear?” Marilyn asked, gesturing to the skillet on the

stove. “There’s plenty of gravy left.”

Shaking her head, Franki eased back in her chair and rubbed her belly. “No

thank you, ma’am. I can’t remember the last time I ate a meal that good. Tell me

this is your secret identity and you’re really a Paris-trained Cordon Bleu chef,

because otherwise, I’m going to feel really bad about my lack of kitchen skills.”

With a laugh, Marilyn wiped her hands on a towel and began putting away

what was left of the meal. “Not at all. I learned to cook at my grandmother’s side

when I was a little girl. My mama couldn’t butter a piece of bread without

mucking it up, but Grandma had serious skills. I’d be happy to teach you a few

things, if you’re sticking around for a while?”

Sadness stole the smile from Franki’s face, “I don’t know. I guess if Vin gets

my bike fixed I’ll have to head back to St. Paul.”

“Oh?” Marilyn didn’t prod, but for whatever reason Franki felt comfortable

enough to ramble on.

“I came here looking for my sister, but she wasn’t here when I arrived. I’m in

limbo until I hear from her again.”

“Heavens, she must have gotten held up. I’m sure she’ll call you soon.”

“I hope you’re right, but right now, it doesn’t matter either way. I’m stuck

until the bike’s running again.” Franki stood and carried her plate to the sink to

rinse it.

“You don’t have to do that, dear, I can clean up.” Marilyn said, joining her

at the farmhouse sink.

“That’s okay, it’s been a long time since I helped in a kitchen. I’m used to

fast food and frozen meals, so this is really nice.” Franki continued rinsing dishes

and Marilyn began stacking them in the dishwasher.

“Well, we have plenty of kitchen chores around here with all of these

hungry fellas living on the ranch.” Marilyn’s eyes were a rich blue color like the

cobalt glasses Franki’s mother had kept on a high shelf when she was younger.

They were filled with warmth and laughter, and before Franki knew it, she was

happily answering all of Marilyn’s questions about herself.

“I started riding a motorcycle right after my mom died. She hated them.

Thought they were too dangerous and not girly enough. I guess I was getting

back at her for dying, because I took my inheritance and bought a Harley.”

“I’ve always wanted to ride a motorcycle. They were a big deal when I was a

young woman, but proper ladies didn’t ride them. Seems like I got old in a fash,

and there hasn’t been much opportunity to ride one in the last couple of

decades.” Marilyn responded. They retreated to the living room where Franki

took a seat on a comfortable sofa and Marilyn sat in an armchair.

“You’re far from old.” Franki protested.

“I turned sixty-eight this past January, but I’ll be damned if I feel a day older

than fifty. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven, and I feel every bit that old,” she answered with a laugh. “I’ll

prove you’re only as old as you feel later and take you out for a ride on my bike,

how’s that?”

Marilyn giggled, and waved her off, “Pfft. I can’t imagine silly me up on the

back of a big motorcycle. No, I think I’ll keep my feet on the ground. I’m not

much for riding horses either. I guess I never was much of a daredevil.”

“Me either. I work odd hours and I prefer to work at night, so I rarely am

awake for daytime adventures.”

“What kind of work do you do, sugar?” Marilyn asked.

“During regular hours I get paid for keeping the books for a couple of small

businesses in St. Paul, but on the side I do some private investigative work.”

“Really? Like stakeouts and whatnot?” The woman’s blue eyes were wide

with curiosity, and Franki smiled at her enthusiasm.

“No, not so much. I’m more of an independent Internet information

seeker.”

“Oh! You’re a hacker!” The words were said with such delightful ease that

Franki laughed out loud.

“I suppose you could use that term, but the authorities don’t seem to

appreciate it much.”

Marilyn wrinkled her nose. “Pfft, who cares what the authorities think...as

long as you’re helping someone, that is.”

“Always. I’ve never done anything illegal without a good reason. I try my

hardest to stay on the right side of the law.” The two women exchanged a look,

and Franki’s original fears about coming to Crawley Creek evaporated

completely. Here was someone who understood that sometimes doing the right

thing wasn’t the easiest thing. Feeling more at ease than she had in months, she

dropped her head back against the soft cushions and yawned. She hadn’t slept

well since Vivi’d gone missing, but right now, with her belly full, she figured she

could sleep for a few days straight.

“So, how did you end up at Crawley Creek?”

“I needed work, and Sera Crawley needed a hand. She and Abe had several

foster children living with them at the time, and they wanted someone to ease the

burden on Sera.” Marilyn rose, and picked up a colorful afghan from a shelf

nearby. “I was lonely after my husband passed away, and Crawley Creek gave me

a family. This ranch has always been about family.”

“That’s wonderful that you were able to find someone to love.” Franki’s eyes

were drifting shut no matter how hard she tried to keep them open, and she

jumped when the soft yarn of the afghan brushed against her. Marilyn draped it

easily over her and then stroked her hair gently.

“Rest now, Franki. It sounds like you’ve had a hard day.”

The words brought a small smile to Franki’s face as sleep began to envelope

her. It felt wonderful to be cared for and have someone concerned with her needs

instead of asking her for something. Before she slipped into unconsciousness she

could have sworn she heard Marilyn say, “Welcome to the family,” but surely she

was mistaken. After all she was only here temporarily.

Chapter 6

Dark hair was draped over the couch cushion, and Franki’s skin looked like