Her Forbidden Cowboy Bodyguard (Lone Star Security #11)

Chapter 1

CALEB

I stood on my front porch and took a sip from my second cup of coffee.

The sun hadn’t even come up yet, but I’d been awake for over an hour.

Horses had been fed and watered, breakfast made and cleaned up already.

It was too early to head out to the ranch, where I filled in when I had extra time, so I did what I did most mornings and waited to catch a glimpse of my neighbor.

She usually left for work about now, and it was my favorite time of day.

Not because I was some creepy stalker who had the hots for the girl next door.

She was way too young and probably way too smart to get involved with a guy like me.

I kept an eye on her because it was the right thing to do, and the smiles she gave me made it worth my while.

Life had dealt Marisol Vega more than her fair share of hard blows.

She didn’t go around complaining or looking for sympathy, but everyone in Valor Springs knew that her parents had been killed in a freak car crash last year and she’d come back to take custody of her younger brother.

The two of them had moved into the shitty rental next door that looked like it was one strong gust of wind away from turning into a pile of rubble.

The front door creaked open, and she stepped outside. Before she turned around to lock the door, her gaze snagged on me and her mouth curved into one of those smiles I couldn’t get enough of.

“Good morning.” Her voice rose above the chatter of the birds.

“Good morning. How’s that tire of yours doing? Holding air okay?” I asked.

She nodded and her long dark hair bounced over her shoulders. “So far so good. Thanks again for helping me out.”

“Anytime.” I lifted my mug in her direction. “Let me know if it starts to leak again.”

“I will.” She pulled her key from the lock and crossed the gravel drive to where her old Chevy sat. I waited until the engine kicked over and she started backing down the drive before I forced myself to look away.

She pulled out onto the dirt road and wiggled her fingers at me in a wave as she passed. The whole interaction lasted less than a minute but the warmth flowing through my veins would linger all damn day.

Before I turned to go back inside, the front door opened again. Marisol’s younger brother Lucas came out and grabbed his bike from where it leaned against the clapboard siding. His backpack hung loosely over one shoulder. A baseball cap sat low, preventing me from seeing his eyes.

“Hey, Mr. Stone.” He waved as he started to pedal away.

“Call me Caleb.” I waved back, feeling like a man twice my actual age.

The chain on his bike rattled, and the pedals slipped before catching.

“You’re chain’s loose. Bring it over and I’ll take a quick look.”

Lucas shook his head. “I don’t have time.”

That was a recurring theme for my neighbors. Marisol was working full-time and putting herself through college while trying to be mom and dad to her younger brother. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d mowed the lawn, put air in her tires, or screwed a loose piece of siding back in place.

That’s what neighbors did though. They looked out for each other and offered help when they could.

I hadn’t been raised that way, but my foster mom had instilled those values as soon as I landed on her doorstep.

I rarely let myself think about the future I might have had if I’d ended up somewhere else besides Mama Mae’s.

I drained the rest of my coffee while the sun rose over the pasture. Time to go. I was between assignments for Lone Star Security, so I’d agreed to help at one of the bigger ranches on the outside of town.

Cowboying was in my blood. I’d tried to ignore the draw when I’d enlisted in the Army right out of high school.

I didn’t want to be a piss-poor rancher like my dad who’d lost everything and gave up living way before he died.

But after fifteen years of protecting my country overseas, I’d finally realized that running from who I was didn't change a damn thing.

I could be a rancher without being my father.

I could love this land without letting it destroy me.

The work was honest and hard. I mended fence lines, checked cattle, and tossed hay.

It was the kind of labor that made my muscles ache in the best possible way.

Even though I primarily worked for Lone Star Security, I’d bought a dozen acres of my own as well.

I liked working my own land and not having to answer to anyone but the animals that depended on me.

But working for Lone Star and the Laredo Ranch was what paid the bills for now.

By noon, my shirt was soaked through and my shoulders burned in that good way that came from a productive morning.

I ate lunch in my truck, watching the horizon and letting my mind wander back to the smile Marisol had given me that morning.

I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't some creepy stalker.

But I also wasn't being entirely honest with myself about why I paid such close attention to her comings and goings.

She was beautiful, yeah. And too young for me.

She had to be mid-twenties at most, while I was pushing forty. But it was more than that.

There was something about the way she carried herself.

She kept her shoulders back and chin up, even when I could see the exhaustion pulling at her.

I respected the hell out of the way she'd taken on the responsibility of raising Lucas without hesitation.

She never complained and never asked for help, though she accepted it with genuine gratitude when it was offered.

She made me want to be the kind of man who could make her life easier. Even if it was just running a lawn mower over her yard or patching a leaky tire.

After lunch, I spent another few hours working a section of fence line that bordered the western edge of the ranch. My phone stayed silent in my pocket. No calls from Gray, no assignments pending. Just me, the fence posts, and the Texas heat.

It was almost seven by the time I made it back to my place. I parked near the barn and headed inside to grab a shower. When I came back out, all the dust and grime washed away, I grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and stepped onto the front porch.

That's when I noticed Marisol's porch light was still burned out. It had been out since last week when she'd gotten home late from a shift at the hospital. She'd fumbled with her keys in the dark, and I'd made a mental note to make sure she replaced it. Apparently, she hadn't.

No big deal. I set down my beer, grabbed an extra bulb from my garage, and headed across the wide patch of grass that separated her place from mine. Her landlord was a piece of shit who should have razed the house and sold the lot. I’d offered him more than market value, but he refused.

Instead, he did the bare minimum to keep the house standing and probably overcharged her on the rent.

I’d never been inside but caught glimpses through the windows when I'd helped her carry groceries a few weeks back.

It was clean, organized, and homey in a way that made the outside seem even more neglected.

I reached up and removed the dead bulb. As I screwed in a new one, the front door opened.

Marisol stood in the doorway in wrinkled scrubs that clung to the curve of her waist, the fabric pulling just slightly across her hips. Dark tendrils of hair had escaped her ponytail and curled against her neck. There was a tiredness in her eyes that made them look softer and warmer.

“Caleb. What are you doing?”

I held up the burned-out bulb. “Bulb’s out. Figured I'd swap it for you.”

Her cheeks flushed. "You didn't have to do that. I've been meaning to get to it, I just—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem." I dragged my gaze back to the light fixture and screwed in the new bulb, forcing myself to focus on something other than how good she looked even after what had clearly been a hell of a day. "Why don't you turn it on and test it?"

She nodded, then hesitated. "Can I get you something? Iced tea? Water?"

“Thanks, but I’m good."

"Please. It's the least I can do." She was already turning back toward the door. "I just made a fresh pitcher."

I should have said no. Should have been grateful for being on the receiving end of another one of her smiles and headed home. But the look in her eyes made it impossible.

"Iced tea sounds good."

Her smile could have lit up the whole damn county. “Great. Be right back.”

She disappeared inside and returned a minute later with two glasses, condensation already beading on the sides. She held one out to me, and when I reached for it, her fingers brushed against mine.

We touched for less than a second, but it was long enough for me to register how warm and soft her skin felt. The contact sent a jolt straight through me that had no business being there.

She let out a quiet gasp, but I heard it. Felt it in the sudden stillness between us.

I took the glass and stepped back, putting distance between us before I did something stupid. Like let my hand linger or think about what those fingers might feel like wrapped around something other than a glass of iced tea. I drank half of it in one go. Sweet, but not too sweet. Perfect.

"You're a lifesaver," she said, leaning against the porch railing.

The evening light caught the side of her face, highlighting the exhaustion there and the invisible weight she carried.

"I've been working doubles all week and everything else just keeps piling up.

The grass needs mowing, there's a leak under the kitchen sink, and Lucas's bike chain keeps slipping. "

"Tell him to bring it by and I'll take a look."

"You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to. But I've got the tools and it'll take me ten minutes. No sense in him struggling with it."