Protecting Tricia Read Online Free

the main road. As he got out of the
truck, Tricia scanned the area. Her gaze swept past the single-story white
house to the barn and corrals behind it. Endless miles of fenced-in pastures
and woods stretched out in all directions.
    When Clint opened the passenger door, Tricia grabbed her
purse and slid out of the vehicle.
    “This is great,” she muttered. “If Matt finds me here, he’ll
be able to shoot me dead without worrying about anyone hearing the gunshot and
screams.”
    Clint stared at her for a moment as if her words had shocked
him. “He won’t find you, and if he does, he’ll have to worry about me.”
    Turning, Clint headed for the house, Tricia following behind
him.
    “What makes you so sure he won’t find me here?”
    “I haven’t seen anyone from Lexington other than Neil and
Jenny since I’ve been back. No one knows about this place.”
    “Well, let’s hope they didn’t tell anyone.”
    “Why would they?” he asked, unlocking the front door. “And
even if they did, do you honestly think Matt, or anyone else in Lexington,
would ever imagine that you’d be with me?”
    No. Everyone in town was aware of the incident that had
occurred between them. It had been the main topic of conversation for months.
No one would believe she’d be within a thousand yards of him.
    When they entered the house, Tricia glanced around the
living room. A dark leather couch, flanked on each side by end tables, and a TV
represented the extent of the furnishings. It was neat and clean and definitely
a man’s house. The walls were bare, no frilly little throw pillows on the
couch, no cute little knick-knacks anywhere, just pure simplicity.
    At the sound of the door locking, she looked back to find
Clint staring at her. She wondered what he was thinking. Probably marveling at
how stupid she’d been to end up like she had.
    Let him think what he wanted.
    Sadly, she’d agree with that assessment.
    “Can I have a glass of water?” She’d spent the last hour
longing for a cool liquid to quench her dry throat.
    “Sure.”
    She followed him into the kitchen and set her purse on the
table. The room was spotless. Probably easy to keep it that way since it was
barren. With the exception of a coffeemaker, the counters were clear.
    Clint removed a glass from a cabinet, dropped in a few ice
cubes, and filled it with tap water. As soon as he passed the glass to her, she
drained it.
    “Jesus,” he breathed.
    Tricia’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?”
    He took the glass from her, set it on the table, and then
grabbed her hand. Turning it over, he examined the underside, softly trailing
his thumb along an ugly dark bruise.
    Tricia’s heart clenched at his unexpected gentle touch,
which reminded her of a time when things had been different between them. A
time when gentle touches and soft words had been commonplace.
    When Clint looked up at her, his eyes filled with remorse,
she knew he believed himself to be responsible for the mark.
    “I already had that bruise,” she explained.
    He expelled a shaky breath, relief washing over his face.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you. If you had only cooperated, I wouldn’t have had to—”
    She yanked her hand away. “Oh yeah, it’s my fault. Matt used
to tell me the same thing. Everything was always my fault.”
    Clint stared at her silently. His expression was unreadable,
but a muscle flexed in his jaw, a sure sign of annoyance.
    “Make yourself at home. I have work to do.” He headed for
the back door, opened it, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. His
gaze caught hers, held it. “Tricia, I won’t let Matt hurt you.”
    His tone was one of reassurance, and she knew the words were
true. Clint might be guilty of a great many things, and she might despise the
man, but she knew he’d never let any physical harm come to her. Or to any woman
for that matter. Physically harming a woman Clint would never allow, but other
types of damage were a different story