Page 193 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series
Not weak enough to beat the shit out of Big Mac, however. Keith would suffer the pain gladly if the man had hurt Harper.
He watched the faint shadow of the American woman he was rapidly falling in love with move around the living area. The gauzy curtains Amy had hung on the windows prevented him from seeing her clearly, but that was okay. All he wanted to do was make sure she was alone. Safe.
Marc had checked in with him once in the time he’d been on guard, letting him know McNamara’s truck and the communal ute were still in the hired hands’ shed. That meant Big Mac was likely somewhere on Farpoint, and that meant Keith wasn’t going anywhere.
Not until McNamara made an appearance.
He didn’t think the bloke would come back to Harper, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
Not with Harper’s safety. Not with her happiness.
Letting out a slow, silent breath, he adjusted his hat and massaged his right hand.
He’d never felt so bloody helpless. He knew she was scared and upset, but he didn’t have a clue what to do about it. He was just a stockman. He could round up a hundred-head mob of cattle alone, without any help from anyone apart from his dog, but when it came to something like this, he was running blind. The primitive instincts in him called for blood and pain, but that wouldn’t help take away Harper’s fear. He had seen it in her eyes, before she’d refused to look at either him or Marc after Big Mac fled the cottage. That fear was deep-seated and absolute. The best he could offer her was his arms and his strength, and Harper had refused both.
Around him, noises of the night played softly on the air. Crickets, distant dingo calls, birds unsettled by nocturnal predators, most likely wild boar or abandoned house cats gone feral.
The familiar soundtrack of his nighttime study.
It didn’t calm him.
He doubted he’d feel calm for a long time. Even if Big Mac turned up in the next minute, there was still the issue of what would happen when Harper went back to the States. There was no denying it. He didn’t want her to go. He wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted?—
The sound of a sob jolted him to his feet. His heart beat fast, his stare locked on the cottage but a few yards away.
Was that Harper crying?
He frowned, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Sound traveled differently at night, the clean emptiness of the air magnifying the faintest noise. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks with?—
Another sob, this one louder.
Without a thought, he destroyed the space between the tree and the front door.
His hand had just wrapped around the doorknob when he heard Harper say, “Marc and Keith are wonderful. But I screwed things up with them. And then Ronnie…”
Her voice faded away. Keith froze, his throat thick, his breath trapped in his constricting chest.
Who was she talking to? Her brother? Would she tell him what McNamara had done?
Should he be invading her privacy this way?
“How’s Andrew?”
The question was asked on a voice cut with forced calm. Keith didn’t need to open the door to know Harper was chewing her bottom lip. But fuck, he wanted to open the door. Open it, go to her, hold her.
There was a pause, probably Harper listening to whoever was on the other end of the call. Then, “I miss him.”
Another pause followed Harper’s barely audible words. Keith swallowed, every muscle in his body tense.
“No!” she suddenly burst out. “No, please don’t tell him I called or that I’m crying. He’ll flip out. I don’t want to cause him any more worry. I’ve hurt him enough.”
The pain and anguish in her statement cut through Keith like a razor. He ground his teeth. He should step off the porch. Go back to the tree. He had no right listening to this.
He released the doorknob.
And froze again when he heard Harper say, “I don’t want to come home.”
His heart slammed into overdrive. Joy shot through him, selfish and overwhelming, despite the rage and contempt he still felt. She wanted to stay on Farpoint.
