Guardian Cowboy. Carla Cassidy

he pulled around to the back, got out of his truck and knocked on her door.

      She answered immediately, surprise on her features. “Sawyer,” she said and opened the door wider to allow him inside.

      “We need to talk,” he said.

      Her gaze searched his face. “I was afraid you’d never want to talk to me again.” She motioned him toward the chair. When he was seated, she sank down on the edge of the bed.

      “I was definitely angry with you,” he admitted.

      “I know.” She seemed miserable with her shoulders slumped slightly forward and her expressive eyes radiating despair.

      “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you didn’t fool me out of any meanness.”

      “Oh, Sawyer, being mean to you wasn’t ever a thought in my head.”

      “Then I think it best if we put all that behind us and we start over.”

      “Really?” Her eyes instantly lightened and relief was evident on her pretty face. “I’d like that a lot.”

      “And now there’s something else I want to talk to you about. Are you seeing somebody else?”

      Once again she looked at him in surprise. “Heavens, no.”

      “Is there an ex-boyfriend lurking around who has been trying to get back together with you?”

      “The last boyfriend I had was over two years ago. He didn’t even live in Bitterroot and I heard through the grapevine that he got married two months ago. Why are you asking me these questions?”

      He stood and pulled the note from his pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to her. “That was under my truck windshield wiper when I left here.”

      She stared at the note for a long moment and then looked back up at him. “Are you sure this is about me?”

      “I’m not seeing anyone else and haven’t for a very long time. It’s definitely about you.”

      She dropped the note next to her on the bed as if it burned her fingers. “I can’t imagine who would do such a thing.”

      “I can’t, either, but I think we need to call Dillon.”

      “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

      He nodded, pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and sat back down in the chair. “I do. This needs to be reported, especially on top of the spray-painting incident that took place. I’ll call him.”

      “Sawyer, I just want to tell you again how very sorry I am,” she said when he’d finished making the call.

      “I accept your apology and, if truth be known, I should probably thank you,” he admitted.

      “Thank me?” She looked at him curiously.

      He heaved a deep sigh. “Between you and Cassie, my eyes have been opened to my drinking issue.”

      “Cassie?”

      He frowned thoughtfully, remembering his conversation with his boss.

      “Last Saturday morning, I decided to talk to her about me possibly taking over the position of foreman when Brody leaves. Since he got hooked up with Mandy Wright, he’s been living on that big ranch of hers and we all know he’s about ready to quit the Holiday place to ranch on his own.”

      “So, what did she say?” She leaned closer to him, her gaze soft and her evocative floral scent swirling around his head.

      “She basically said she didn’t think I had the respect of the other men because of the nights they have to put me to bed drunk, although she didn’t say in it those exact words.”

      “Why do you drink?”

      “I always thought that’s just what we did. We worked hard during the week and then went to the bar to drink on Saturday nights,” he replied.

      “Do you like the taste of beer?”

      He frowned thoughtfully. He’d never really considered the things she was asking him about before. “It’s all right,” he replied.

      “I think you’re allergic to it or something.”

      He looked at her in surprise. “You think?”

      “I’ve never seen anyone totally pass out on so few drinks as you do.”

      “According to my mother, my father was a raging alcoholic who suffered blackouts. I’ve had a few blackouts, as well.”

      “You didn’t know your father?”

      “He disappeared from our life when I was four years old. When I was ten, we heard that he’d died. It’s a good guess that he died from his alcoholism.”

      “My father died from a massive heart attack when I was sixteen.” A deep sadness filled her eyes.

      “I’m sorry for your loss,” he replied. “It stinks not to have a father.”

      “At least I had mine for sixteen years. You didn’t have yours for long at all. Do you have any memories of him?”

      “None,” he replied.

      Before they could talk any further, Dillon arrived. He looked at the note and then asked Janis the same questions Sawyer had asked her. Was she seeing anyone else? Was there somebody she knew who wanted to date her? Maybe somebody she’d turned down recently? Janis’s answers were the same...no, no and no.

      “It definitely looks to me like you’ve picked yourself up a secret admirer,” Dillon said. “And he might possibly want Sawyer out of the picture so he can make a play for you.”

      “So, what should we do?” Janis asked.

      “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Dillon said to her. “I imagine whoever it is will either make himself known to you pretty quickly or he’ll just give up and go away.”

      He then looked at Sawyer. “I also really don’t think you have anything to worry about, either. In my experience, anonymous notes rarely lead to any kind of violent actions.”

      Sawyer nodded, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to watch his own back a little more closely than usual. “I’ll take the note with me, but I imagine the only prints I’ll get will be from the two of you,” Dillon continued as he stepped to the door. “There isn’t much more I can do at this point.”

      “Thanks for coming out,” Janis said.

      “That’s my job,” the lawman replied with a smile. “I’ll let you both know if I manage to pull off any viable prints, but don’t hold your breath.”

      “I should probably get out of here, too,” Sawyer said when Dillon had gone. “You still up for dinner at the café with me tomorrow night?”

      “Are we okay?” Her eyes held a soft luminosity and her lips had never looked so darned kissable. He pulled her into his arms and settled his mouth over hers.

      He kept the kiss light and quick, but it wasn’t because her lips didn’t entice him to delve deeper. It wasn’t because she didn’t excite him on a physical level.

      It was because he really did want to take things slow with her. He wanted a do-over. Things had gotten off to such a crazy start with them and now that he knew he hadn’t made love to her, he was excited for them to slowly progress to that place.

      “So, how about I pick you up around five thirty tomorrow?” he said when the kiss ended.

      “I’ll be ready and waiting,” she replied. “I work the morning shift and get off at three thirty, so that gives me plenty of time to clean up.”

      Minutes later, when he was back in his truck and headed home, he thought again about the note. Was it simply from some timid