Cowboy Bodyguard

KL DONN

Contents

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Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue One

Epilogue Two

About the Author

Also by KL Donn

Audio Books

Copyright © 2026 by KL Donn

Cowboy Bodyguard

www.authorkldonn.com

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Synopsis

From USA Today Bestselling Author KL Donn is Cowboy Bodyguard, an epic romance story delivering exactly what the title implies. One protective cowboy, one pageant queen, and an emotional cow who will have you falling in love from the first chapter.

Marilyn Monroe Kingsley is the reigning Miss California and the favorite to become the next Miss America. To the world, she has it all. But beneath the crown is a shy young woman who longs for a quiet life, a loving family, and a place where she can simply be herself.

Running from a dangerous stalker, Monroe finds refuge in the Crazy Mountains of Montana, under the protection of retired Delta operative—and rugged cowboy—Shaw Remington.

Shaw never expected a pageant queen to challenge everything he thought he knew. Fiercely protective, quietly possessive, and determined to keep Monroe safe, he soon discovers the sweet, genuine woman behind the beauty queen's smile is not all she appears. And Monroe finds herself falling for the strong, steady man who makes her feel safe for the very first time.

As two hearts from completely different worlds collide, Shaw and Monroe must decide if a protector can become forever... and if love is worth risking everything for.

Author Note: Cowboy Bodyguard was previously published with Elle James Bodyguard Protection World under the same title. It’s back now with new content, fresh edits, and a brand-new epilogue guaranteed to leave you satisfied.

Prologue

MONROE

Los Angeles, California

“I’m tired of doing this, Mom,” I whisper to my mother, Helen, as she covers my overly made-up hair with more Aquanet than should be legal.

“Tough. You almost won the last pageant. It’s time you start taking these titles home consistently instead of every other show. A lot rides on these winnings, Marilyn.” I try to hide my sigh but fail. “Enough of that,” she admonishes, tugging at a loose curl, and I cringe because it smarts. “What else are you going to do with your life? Huh? You’re not good at anything of value. At least this will help you marry rich.”

My heart cramps at her hurtful words, but as usual, I push the feelings to the back of my mind and stop speaking. It’s my sixteenth birthday. The last thing I want, today of all days, is to be so harshly criticized. I should be giggling with my girlfriends, telling stories of my first love, opening presents, and scarfing down cake.

Staring around the room, I study each of the other girls, seeing nothing but rivalry and jealousy. I wouldn’t trust them with my makeup brushes, let alone my secrets. But it’s Mom's dream for me to become Miss America, Miss Universe, Miss… Everything.

I’ve been painting my face with makeup and ratting out my hair for longer than I can remember. It’s all I’ve ever known. We travel the country, jumping from pageant to pageant, winning larger prizes to propel us to the next show and smaller accolades where I’m criticized for all my failings until it’s time to smile again.

I’m a real-life Barbie, and sometimes, I wish this Barbie were brave enough to run away.

“All right, Marilyn Monroe Kingsley, you had better smile and project winner appeal in those eyes because if you lose tonight, so help me, I’ll work you until you drop.”

Ballet is my talent—prancing and pirouetting until my head spins. Clean lines and soft drops typically gain me first place. But sometimes I screw up on purpose; other times, I’m too tired to work that hard.

From the look in Mom's eyes, however, perfection is the word of the evening.

I have to win.

I want to quit.

Chapter

One

SHAW

Crazy Mountains, Montana — Present Day

Breathing in the crisp, mid-May morning air, I detect just a hint of winter’s remnants as I watch the sun rise while sipping my first cup of coffee before getting ready for the day. Spring is officially here, which means a lot of work around the ranch.

My operation isn’t anything too big or fancy, and for the most part, I handle the day-to-day operation myself, but I do have one full-time and a couple of part-time ranch hands, plus my housekeeper, Rita. She does more than just clean up after me; she also cooks and helps with the books when I’m too busy to.

“Mooooo.” Marilyn is off in the distance, calling for the calf she lost.

Mari is a unique heifer. When I retired to Eagle Rock, Montana, a little over a year ago, she was my second purchase at a slaughtering auction. Her pain resonated with me. Her all-consuming emptiness controlled me for a time after my last mission, which left me too injured to remain an active-duty Delta Force operative. My hip was shattered in a bombing two years ago, and I had to have a complete replacement.

Even now, the residual pain still irritates me.

Coming to the Crazy Mountains of Montana and buying this ranch is one of the few impulsive things I’ve done in my life. My friend, Draven Banks, convinced me this was just the place I needed to recover and move on with my life. I came for a visit and never left.

At the sound of Rita preparing breakfast in the kitchen for me and my full-timer, Kane, I head inside to see if she wants help, which I already know she’ll refuse.

The great thing about Rita is that she’s more like a mother, and the only family I have around. My parents are retired, cruising the world one ship at a time. Well-deserved, too. My father was an Army man, like me, until he retired at forty and realized he was good at the stock market. After spending twenty-five years buying and selling things I’ll never understand, he finally called it quits for good, and I’ve never seen them happier.

“Morning, Rita.” I kiss her cheek as she whisks up some eggs.

“Morning, Shaw. You have a message on the machine in your office.”

She never ceases to amaze me. First thing she does is check messages because I like to enjoy the sunrise each morning before work picks up; she, however, keeps me organized.

“I’ll go check them now. Holler if you need me.” After refilling my coffee, I enter my office, shut the door, and push play on the machine.

“Hey, Remington, it’s Draven. Look, I’ve got a big favor to ask. I’ll be there in the morning to discuss the details. Have the coffee on.” As the message ends, I hear his truck in the driveway.

The only favors Draven asks me for are when his security company, Banks Protection Services, needs an extra hand. Guess I’m playing bodyguard this week.

Going back the way I came, trying to ignore the twinges of hip pain, I grab an extra cup, pour in the steamy black liquid, then head out to meet my buddy at the front door. “Morning, Draven.” Handing him the coffee, we take a seat in the front porch chairs. “What’s this favor?”

“Always straight to business with you, huh?” I shrug, not one to mess around. “You remember me telling you about how Nina and I came to meet?” I nod. Nina was the body double for some whacked-out celebrity with a stalker.

“Well, Lorie has a cousin in some trouble, and she recommended us to the woman’s mother. I don’t have all the information yet; we’re still running background checks on both women, but it sounds like she’s picked herself up a stalker too.”

“You need me to go out there?” I assume "there" is Hollywood, and while I’d rather not, for Draven, I would.

“No. But if she could stay here for a couple weeks? We’re fully booked and spread a little thin right now. The pay is more than generous.”

I shoot him a look. Money is never the reason I help him, and by the way he raises his hands, he knows that too.

“When is she arriving?” I sure as hell hope she’s not as self-centered as Lorie was.

“Seriously?” He’s always shocked when I say yes so quickly, so I simply nod. “She’s getting on a plane now with her mother and manager. They’ll be landing in a couple of hours.”

“Mother and manager?” I raise a brow in question.

“She’s some sort of pageant girl or something. They aren’t staying. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He chuckles, no doubt recalling how he and Nina came to be. “I told them that over the phone, but they said she can’t travel alone or some BS. I don’t think they believed me when I said they couldn’t stay. I’ll be insistent that they leave.”

“How old is she?” The way he talks, she sounds underage. Which means the mother, at least, might have to stay.

“Her license says twenty. She can stay by herself. It’ll make protecting her that much easier too. I’ll be back with them after they’ve been picked up from the Great Falls airport and brought to the office to fill out all the required paperwork. I’ll have the surface background checks completed for you as well.”

“Sounds good.” I shake his hand as we stand, then take his empty cup. “See you in a bit.”

Watching Draven leave, a ball of lead settles in my gut. I’m already sure this will be a pain-in-the-ass assignment. If the girl is anything like her cousin, I may come to regret my quick acceptance.

Rita flashes me an inquisitive look as I enter the kitchen to find Kane at the counter eating his breakfast, waiting for an explanation of what’s happening. “We’re going to have a guest for a bit.” Kane raises a brow, shovels another forkful of eggs into his mouth, and washes it down with a gulp of hot brew. “A beauty queen with security issues. I don’t have all the details, so let’s make sure the ranch is secure today before she arrives later this afternoon or evening.”

Kane tips his hat, thanks Rita for breakfast, and loads his dishes into the dishwasher before leaving out the back door to do as I asked.

“Well?” Rita’s tone tells me she wants more details.

“I don’t even know her name yet. Seems like Draven was hired on the fly, too quickly to make any kind of assessment. You’ll know as much as I do once the girl arrives.”

“Should I make up a room close to yours since she needs protection?” A hint of something glints in her eyes, telling me that she’s plotting, and I likely don’t want to know what about. “Never mind, I’ll pick.” She’s gone before I can protest.

Sighing, I scarf down a quick breakfast, clean up after myself, and meet with Kane to help out and ensure the girl is as protected as possible while in my care.

Chapter

Two

MONROE

I hate flying. It’s the second worst part of my life, but being dragged out to the Montana wilderness seems like a relaxing change. Especially after overhearing the man who picked us up tell Mom and Claire they couldn’t stay with me. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced them both being told no. It was amusing how they turned red with rage, looking like matching tomatoes.

“Sit up straight, Marilyn,” Mom snaps under her breath, so the big guy up front—who gave us the name Draven—doesn’t hear her censure.

I’m slightly disappointed that he didn’t force Mom and my manager to leave at the airport, as he told them on the phone. But if I know anything about these two women, it’s that they’re master manipulators. The only reason I’m even here is that my cousin Lorie insisted this agency was the best.

When Mom was told that Banks Protection Services had no one available to travel to L.A., she suggested we come out here. I don’t mind, really. After five minutes in this pure air, I could breathe easier, felt less suffocated, and my head was no longer spinning the way it has in recent weeks.

Ever since my sixteenth birthday, when I lost Miss California—on purpose—I haven’t had a free moment to myself. Even in the shower, the door must remain unlocked. There’s no peace and quiet for me, and frankly, I’m not sure how much longer I can live like this. I’m an adult and should be able to do what I want, except I can’t.

Mother has spent my entire life beating away my self-esteem and sense of worth, leaving me lost as to who I am without the pageants, and since then, I haven’t lost a single one.

I practice my ballet daily, like my life depends on it. And I’m not all that certain it doesn’t anymore. If I lose, who knows how she’ll react.

When I lost Miss California, I wasn’t seen for two weeks. Just long enough for the pageant world to believe I was a diva throwing a fit. In reality, I was being worked into the ground until I became sick. Until I bled. Until I learned there were far worse pastimes than smiling for the cameras and realizing what a monster my mother truly is.

“All right, ladies, here we are.” The man up front smiles back at me and frowns when I don’t reciprocate the gesture. It’s not that I don’t want to; it’s that smiling about anything is hard after being forced to do it for so long. If there’s no emotion behind it, I just don’t do it anymore. I can’t.

Slipping out of the vehicle, I inhale the refreshing mountain air and close my eyes. My lungs expand, and I no longer feel as if a weight rests on my chest. Green fields flow from the sizeable rustic house back to the valley leading into the snow-capped mountains, but my mother’s indignant huff ruins the moment.

Claire is glued to her phone as a door slams shut nearby. My gaze follows the noise, and I notice a gruff, dark-haired man standing on the porch. He doesn’t seem pleased we’re here, and with the way my mother eyes up his ranch, I can’t say I blame him. I wouldn’t want me here either.

Remaining in place, beside the car, I admire the beauty of the surrounding land. The sounds of nature. The clean air. This is something I could get used to. If only I could escape my mother’s clutches.

In the distance, the forlorn moo of a cow grabs my attention, and I’m curious why he or she sounds so desolate. To find out, I quietly head towards the back of the house as the strange man glares at Mom, Claire, and Draven; then I make a run for it, careful not to trip over any holes, snakes, or other obstacles in the way.

Halting in my tracks after clearing the patio off the back of the house, I see a large white cow by a water barrel and listen as she cries into the sky. As I walk closer, she must hear me because she turns her head and looks directly at me, staring into my eyes. I recognize her pain. I feel it in my very soul.

“Who hurt you, pretty girl?” I whisper as I walk toward the steel gates. Knowing nothing about cows or ranch life, I maintain my distance. I wouldn’t want to encroach on this man’s land and break some rule I don’t know exists. I do that enough in L.A.

Her heavy steps wander closer to me, and when she lays her chin in one of the metal rings of the gate, I reach out a hand. Touching her head, I’m surprised at how soft she is. Her eyes close, and I wish I knew her thoughts.

Taking a small step forward, I continue to scratch her head and explore the area with my eyes. I’ve never been so near to a cow before, and the moment is a bit surreal. It’s a cow, and yet I feel closer to the massive animal than I have to anyone else in my life.

It’s odd, yet it strangely makes complete sense. She’s in pain, and so am I. On some elemental level, we understand each other.

“Dear god, Marilyn, take your hands off that filthy beast,” my mother’s shrill voice calls behind me, ruining the special moment. I ignore her, but the cow can’t and opens her eyes at the newcomer.

I don’t know if cows can glare, but I feel certain she just did, and I can’t help giggling.

“Marilyn!” she barks, and when I turn around, I’m stopped in my tracks as the ranch owner's eyes snare me in their depths. His gaze narrows as he looks on from beside the house.

“Sorry, Mother,” I whisper as I take one last look at the tormented cow and stroll back towards the woman I’ve come to loathe.

“We aren’t staying. We’ll find someone else for protection.” She grips my arm so tightly I wince. Her manhandling continually bruises my skin, and the latest one hasn’t healed.

“I’d like to stay, though,” I protest softly. I’ll never win; we’ll just head back to Hollywood and the lights and smog and so many people; but for once, I wish my opinion mattered.

“Well, tough. We don’t always get what we want in life, now do we?” I’m brought to an abrupt halt as a hand reaches gently across my belly, holding me in place.

“Let her go,” the masculine voice growls behind me, and I fail to contain a shiver.

“I will not!” My mother's nails dig into my skin, sinking deeper with each passing second, and when the skin breaks, I whimper. “Knock it off, Marilyn,” she hisses.

“You can take your hand off the girl, or I’ll take your hand off your body.” Never in my life have I seen my mother so speechless or pale as her fingers suddenly release me.

He doesn’t. He holds me tighter.

Tenderly bringing my arm back to my body, he inspects the new damage mixed with the old while my mother blusters about his threats to Draven. The poor man looks like he’d rather run away.

“Remove them from my property, Draven.” At the rancher’s demand, I begin to step forward when he stops me. “Not you.”

My eyes close of their own accord, and so many questions pop into mind, but I can’t formulate the words to ask them.

The recession of my mother’s bitching voice as she’s herded back to the car brings a sigh of relief, and I don’t remember the last time I spent more than a shower’s length of time away from her. This is what I need. Being here, the space, the quiet; it’ll definitely give me the perspective I’ve been craving for so long.

I hate the pageant life and need to get away from it. From her. I need distance from a life I never asked for, and that’s not possible if I continue letting her control my every move. Problem is, she’s beaten me down so badly that my confidence is gone, and I don’t know who I am anymore.

Chapter

Three

SHAW

Marilyn Monroe Kingsley. What a fucking name.

When the group arrived, with her mother’s attitude and her agent’s indifference, I told Draven no and to send them all away. As soon as I noticed Mari quiet down, I pushed past them all and ran around the back of the house just in time to listen to this alluring creature ask the animal who hurt her.

It was at that moment that I knew she would be staying. But the other two had to go. There’s no way I was putting up with their shit for any amount of time. And after witnessing how the mother, Helen, spoke to and treated her daughter, I also realized she needed protection from more than just some stalker.

They’ve been gone for an hour now, and Marilyn Monroe Kingsley has been sitting on the ground next to where Mari typically cries into the sky. But she’s silent now. The girl brings the bovine some sense of calm, and maybe it’s because she can feel Marilyn’s pain too.

“Marilyn,” I call down from my seat on the porch. She doesn’t move. “Marilyn Monroe!” I call again, and her eyes pop open. She blinks a few times before her tentative gaze finds mine.

Standing, she wipes her butt off and comes over. “Uhm…” She’s hesitant, and I’m on the edge of my seat, dying to hear her voice. “I don’t want to sound rude.” She bites her bottom lip, and I realize I was correct. Her voice is soft and lyrical. Perfect for a pageant princess.

“But…,” I hedge, hoping she’ll finish her thought.

“Well, could you call me Monroe, please? Only Helen calls me Marilyn, and after years of listening to her scream it, I’ve come to dislike hearing it.”

“I can do that,” I reply. Her eyes smile, but her mouth remains closed, so I cock my head, debating whether to ask more about that, but I can tell there’s more to this girl than what's in the file I’ve been reading for the last hour. “Monroe, would you like to come inside for something to eat?” Glancing down at my watch, I notice it’s late afternoon, but I haven’t a clue when she ate last.

“I’d rather stay outside if that’s okay?” It grates on me how unsure she is about speaking up.

“That’s fine. I can get Rita to bring something out for you. I have a few phone calls to make, so I’ll be inside if you need me.”

She nods and strides back to my pitiful cow. It’s almost hilarious that they share the same name, are both extremely vulnerable creatures, and have nearly matching light hair. If I didn’t know any better, I'd think Marilyn belonged to Monroe, and they’d both likely enjoy that very much.

Shaking my head, I walk inside to find Rita in the kitchen making both dinner and a plate of cheese and crackers. “She’s a beautiful girl,” she comments, not looking up from her work, but I know she’s still plotting after that look this morning.

“Yeah, she is.” Monroe is precisely the type of girl I shouldn’t be attracted to. She’s city; I’m country. She’s luxurious spa days; I’m dirty mud baths on a good day.

“She’ll stay; I’m sure of it.”

I frown at Rita’s comment but ultimately ignore it as I head to my office, confident that she’ll bring the tray of food out to Monroe.

Dropping the file on my desk, I pore over the photos of Monroe’s apartment again. Flower petals and love notes are scattered all over the floor. Her underwear drawer has been cleaned out, and photoshopped images of her and a headless man are framed and placed nicely on her dresser.

Whoever’s stalking her is in love with her, and given that he broke into her apartment, I’d say he’s dangerous. With the access he has to her life, I’m not entirely convinced that her mother or agent doesn’t have something to do with it. Especially after meeting them today.

I won’t lie; I had expected Monroe to be a complete diva. But as soon as I looked into her eyes, I felt she was different and knew my cold approach towards her would have to shift.

She hasn’t asked for anything since arriving. She hasn’t complained once about the atmosphere, the chill, the smell of manure from the livestock. By all accounts, Rita might be right; Monroe could come to mean more to me than anyone ever has. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to bring someone into my life while still battling my own demons.

The fax machine in the corner powers on, and as the pages spit out, I realize Draven isn’t finished with his in-depth background check on their lives. I already have a file on Monroe about an inch thick, and what pisses me off is the number of emergency room visits. One time, it was a broken arm. There’ve been three concussions, stitches from what looks like a belt strap across her back, and so many other issues. The problem is that each injury occurred in a different state; therefore, no one looked into them. But I am now.

Monroe has been a pageant princess her whole life, holding the record for most winnings; yet she’s being abused. She's spent so many years surrounded by a multitude of people; how have none of them picked up on what’s been happening to her? Especially when she was younger.

Getting on the phone, I call Draven and ask, “What’s your read on the mother?” as soon as the lines connect.

“Hello, Shaw. I’m fine, thanks,” he jokes.

“The mother.”

“She’s a narcissist. Riding the coattails of her daughter’s success. If I had my guess, she couldn’t do what Monroe does, and she’s forced the girl into the pageant circuit.”

“I’m getting the same read. She abuses her too. There are more than two dozen hospital trips. Alone, they’re innocent enough. Blame it on an accident-prone child. Together, I have to wonder what the hell happens to these girls.”

He whistles. “You talked to her about it?”

I snort. “No. She could barely ask me to call her Monroe. She hates Marilyn.”

“You, too, huh. The mother and agent are on their way back to Hell-A, so tell her to relax. Read a book. Enjoy the countryside.”

“Oh, she is. She and Mari are like two peas in a pod.”

“No shit?”

Draven was with me when I bought the heifer from the auction. She was set to be sold for slaughter, so I bought her on a whim.

“Yeah. Obviously, they’ve both gone through something only the other understands, so I’ll leave her to it for now. Rita’s got a feast going in the kitchen, and I guess we’ll see if Monroe’s ready for country life after that.” Rita moved up here with me from Texas after my parents retired. Her southern cooking followed.

“That you will, my friend. Look…lay low, relax, see if she’ll open up to you, and I’ll continue with the dozens of background checks of the people that have passed through her life.”

I don’t envy him that part of the job right now. Being in pageants since she was small, I imagine there are hundreds, if not thousands, of people to go through.

“Call me if anything stands out.”

“You know it.”

Pushing Monroe’s file to the side, I stare at her mother’s for a minute before opening it. I already dislike the woman, and whatever I’m about to find out will likely not change my opinion. If anything, it’ll shoot her to the top of the suspect list.

Chapter

Four

MONROE

“You know,” a spirited female voice says, pulling me from my daydreaming. “She rarely stops her bellyaching until she’s mooed herself hoarse.”

I stand and wipe the grass from my rear end as the woman comes closer with a tray of food, waiting for whatever else she has to say.

“Shaw asked me to bring this out to you.” Shaw. So that’s his name. It suits him. “I’m Rita. Housekeeper extraordinaire.”

As she hands me her offering, I finally speak. “Monroe. Girl with no choices.” My sad but sarcastic comment is not lost on her, and her smile dims a little.

“Come sit over here with me. Marilyn will be fine by herself.”

“Her name is Marilyn?” Irony at its finest. Rita confirms it as we walk to the porch and sit at the outdoor table. “My first name is Marilyn,” I tell her, reaching for the bottle of water.

Eyeing the tray of deli meats, cheese, and grapes, I crave popping one of those round berries into my mouth and savoring the sour burst of juice that’ll come with the first bite. But I can’t.

No sugars.

Not even natural ones.

“Marilyn Monroe?” Rita laughs like most people do before she looks me over. “Yeah, I can see that. Need a little more meat on your bones, though. That girl was something fierce regarding the female figure.”

With my professionally dyed platinum-blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and pouty red lips, I understand my mother naming me after the icon. Even have the little mole on my cheek.

“I guess,” I respond, then take a sip of my water.

Rita’s a real woman, not one of the fake ones I’m surrounded by daily. She has genuine life experience, and because of that, I have no idea how to talk to her. I’m not up to date on current events. I know nothing of the real world. I barely graduated from high school and only finished with honors because it was required for the Miss California pageant, which I did win two years ago.

Anxiety and stress make my heart go crazy, and I’m getting light-headed. The loss of control closes in again, and only one thing will help.

“Uhm, Rita, could you show me to my room, please?” My abrupt standing shocks her before she nods.

“Aren’t you hungry, though?” She grabs the tray to bring it inside.

“No, I ate on the flight, and I’m just feeling a little light-headed. I think I need to lie down if that’s alright?”

“Of course! Plane food is nearly as bad as hospital food. Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll knock when it’s finished.” In response, I force myself to fashion my lips into an expected smile as she leads the way through the house and up the stairs.

I feel horrible nearly slamming the door in her face, but I need discipline. I need routine. I need to dance.

Closing the blinds, I tear open my suitcase and strip, then slip into my leotard that’s one size too small—it used to be two sizes too small—and lace up my pointe shoes.

Popping in my AirPods, I hit play on my practice list, blasting fast-paced music to keep me moving and in shape. It’s the harshest on my body to keep up with, and when the opening notes for "Tequila" by Dan and Shay play, tears stream down my cheeks, and my body flows without thought.

One song turns to two, then three, and my muscles begin to quiver as Taylor Swift’s "Shake It Off" comes on as number eight. Sweat pours down my body, my toes ache, and my knees fight not to buckle; I need to refocus my energy. And it’s not until I’ve run through the thirty-song playlist twice that hands lift me in the air, and our two bodies land on the bed with a soft thud.

Shaw hovers above me, looking angry and no doubt swearing a blue streak, but I can’t hear a word he’s saying. After ripping the pods out of my ears, his stormy gaze darkens.

“What the fuck, Monroe? You’ve been up here for over two hours dancing like this?”

His heart pounds against my chest, and I have this insane desire to lay my head against him and listen.

“Yes,” I answer.

“What the hell for?” I look away from his knowing gaze. “Uh-uh, look at me. Why are you doing this? Your body is not meant to withstand this kind of torture. Especially when you aren’t healthy enough to tolerate it.”

“I dance for six to eight hours every day. I’m well-equipped to handle the physical strain.” I lift my chin in challenge.

“And the mental one?” he bites back.

Shaw isn’t wrong. With this type of rigorous workout or routine, I should be mentally stable. I’m anything but that—barely holding myself together—but it’s likely why I do it. Ballet is the glue that keeps me together; it adheres all my tiny shattered pieces together.

“I need ballet.”

“Like I need another hole in my head.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I stay silent. It’s always been easier to remain quiet than to fight and argue. Getting my point across to people is difficult anyway. Usually because they don’t want to hear what I have to say.

“Think of this as vacation. Whatever you do on the road doesn’t happen here. No ballet, no prancing around like a piece of meat. Be yourself, Monroe.”

I flinch as if I've been physically hit because my own identity doesn’t exist. I live my mother’s failed life—competing for her, dancing for her. Smiling for her.

Pretending for her.

“You have no idea who you are, do you?” Sympathy softens Shaw’s gaze, and I divert my eyes once again. He lifts himself off my body, and at once, I miss his weight. At the time, I didn’t realize it, but it brought comfort—something I’m sorely missing right now.

When his fingers untie the silk of my slippers before sliding them off my feet, tears spill from my eyes again. Not strictly due to his tenderness, but also to embarrassment. I know what he’ll see—my bloody toes, my blistered feet. It’s never a pretty sight after such an intense session.

“Fuck. Monroe, is this normal?” I don’t look down, just shrug. “No more fucking ballet. Not while you’re here. You need to heal, woman.”

I only agree because he won’t stop until I do. I won’t listen, though. He doesn’t understand the pressure. The intensity of having one singular thing I can control. I need this like I need to breathe.

“Come on.” Shaw pulls me up from the bed, wraps an arm around my waist, and slowly directs me to the hallway bathroom.

Lifting me onto the counter, he reaches into a drawer for a washcloth, and steam doesn’t take long to billow up from the sink after it’s turned on. We don’t speak as he gently holds one foot above the heel while dipping the cloth in water, then carefully washing the blood off my toes. He must have questions, wondering why I would do this to myself, but refrains from asking, so I’m grateful.

Scars mar my feet from the abuse they’ve endured over the years, and as I notice Shaw’s features strain, I question everything about myself. Which is probably why I also open up to him about my training so easily now.

“I was dancing before I learned to walk.” At least, it’s what I’ve always been told. “My love for ballet expands beyond the pageants and my talent. When I dance, I’m free. It’s the only time I’m free.” My eyes shift to the water, swirling a light pink, tinged with my blood.

Shaw’s silence unnerves me. With anyone else I’ve met, I’ve never desired filling the void…revealing my secrets. He’s changing all the rules on me.

“I trained with a prima.” Ophelia Vasyli was intense, driven, caring. “She treated me like a little girl but knew before I did that my love for the art was imprinted on my soul. She had no idea what my life was like, but understood my story, nonetheless.”

“And what is your story, Monroe?”

Quickly, my eyes lift to meet his imploring stare. “I have no idea.”

Chapter

Five

SHAW

She was beautiful. A magical creature floating through space and time. Graceful, elegant, broken. Like a baby bird unable to care for itself. Monroe is one contradiction after another, surprising me while also leaving me guessing.

Continuing to clean her feet, she reveals more about herself, which only leaves me hungry for more. By the time I’m done, she looks every bit as exhausted as when she arrived, but I insist she eat dinner with me after changing into something more comfortable.

Dinner passes quietly, with only the sounds of cutlery tapping against dishes as we eat the vegetable-beef stew, homemade rolls, and salad Rita has prepared. From the aromas wafting from the kitchen, I can tell she’s also made her famous peach cobbler. It was a staple in my house growing up, and it makes me wonder what comfort food Monroe enjoys.

“Do you not like stew?”

Breaking the silence startles the young woman, and she looks up at me. For once, her guard’s down, and I capture the harrowing emotions in her stare. She’s lost inside herself, and I’m not sure if it’s because of her stalker, her mother, her life, or something else entirely.

Leaning forward, she scoops a single piece of potato into her mouth and replies, “I do,” like she’s cleared her plate. Aside from a few bites of her salad, she’s hardly eaten anything.

“Rita grows everything in her garden. It’s free of pesticides and fresh from the fall.” I’m unsure if she’s one who concerns herself with that or not. “We buy our meat from a local ranch too. Foods as clean as you can get out here.” I neglect to mention the game meat we hunt and eat yet; I get the feeling she won’t like hearing about that.

“That’s great.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I fucking hate the fakeness of it.

“You know you don’t need to put on a show for me, right? You’re not here to please anybody; you’re here for protection.” Yet I find myself wanting to please her. This is so fucked up.

Monroe nods, nibbles on her dinner roll, then goes back to pushing food around her bowl. Thank god Rita’s not here to witness this scene; it’d break her heart. Not because Monroe isn’t eating the food she made for her but because, obviously, something holds her back from enjoying it.

Finishing my meal in silence, I rinse my dishes and pop them in the dishwasher before saying to Monroe, “I’ve got some things to take care of in my office; holler if you need me.”

Hoping she’ll eat something without anyone watching, I cut a slice of cobbler, grab another glass of peach iced tea, and sit at my desk wondering what the hell this woman has been through.

I’ve seen my fair share of traumatized veterans, and she shares the same look as the men and women returning home from war. That same haunted expression, the slump of her shoulders, and a sad quality to her tone of voice.

Never in my life have I wanted to fix someone, to help them through whatever trauma they’re struggling with. With Monroe, something is different. I want to help her, to heal her. And in more than just a friendly manner, too. There’s no doubt I’m attracted to her; she’s a stunning woman, but it’s more than that. Her soul feels like it calls to mine.

Refocusing on what I need to accomplish, I push thoughts of Monroe to the recesses of my mind while working on payroll before diving back into her mother and agent’s background checks that Draven supplied me with.

The woman is a piece of work, only into pageants for the money. She was never good enough as a child, so, obviously, she pushed it onto Monroe. To the point that the person in my care is burnt out.

Finally hearing Monroe moving around, I slip into the hallway and remain hidden to check out how much she’s eaten and if she’ll snag a slice of the cobbler I left for her. Her dinner roll is missing only the one tiny bite she took, the salad is nearly gone, and I don’t think she took any more stew.

After discarding the remainder of her roll and salad, she searches for a container to store the stew before placing it in the fridge. Grabbing another water, she stands in front of the dessert and stares at it, temptation written across her delicate features. I can tell she wants a bite; she must be starving, but she has the will of a pissed-off bull.

Monroe leans down, inhaling slow and deep before biting her lip and reaching for the plate. However, before touching it, she stops, then flinches like she’s been struck and backs off slowly at first. But with one last longing look at the golden flaky delight, she rushes upstairs without stopping.

She fucking wanted the damn thing. Why wouldn’t she take it? I have my suspicions, and I’d like to confront her about them, but that will send her further into her protective shell.

Chapter

Six

MONROE

What is your story?

All evening, that question played through my head, keeping me up late into the night until exhaustion swept me under.

I still don’t have an answer.

Everyone has a story…a tale to be told.

I don’t; I have pain. Obligation. Heartache. The knowledge that I’m not good enough…

For a father who left when I was a little girl because of my mother’s obsession with the pageant world. He just couldn’t take it anymore.

For the mother who is present but desires someone more like her.

When I was younger, the pageants were fun—a way to bond with my mother and dress up like a princess. Around the time I turned ten and the prize money grew exponentially with every contest, it became less and less like a dream and more of a duty. No part of me enjoyed strutting around the stage in bejeweled dresses or barely-there bikinis, being stared at and judged for my beauty.

Years ago, I realized I had to make a change, to figure out who I am. And maybe being here in Montana with Shaw, I can do that. He’s the only person who doesn’t seem to care about my appearance or how I dress.

I caught the interest in his eyes yesterday, seconds before he grabbed me and kicked Mom and Claire off his property. It was that spark that made my belly quiver and my heart flutter. There were glimpses of it at dinner last night as well. I could tell he was trying to get me to eat more without adding pressure. Leaving before I was done felt out of character for a man like him. But he knew what he was doing because I did manage a few more bites of salad and stew, even if I didn’t finish anything.

When I’d come upon the peach cobbler, I nearly drooled with the desire to eat it. Anything with peaches has always been my weakness. It’s my favorite fruit and flavor. When I finally decided to grab the plate, my mother’s voice reared its ugly head and reminded me how ugly I am when I become bloated from sugar, and I practically ran away.

When I woke up this morning, I forced myself to lie in bed, staying there until I couldn’t any longer, because here, I have no obligations, and for the first time in recent memory, I can do something for myself.

Slipping from under the covers, I walk to my suitcase and pause when I automatically reach for my ballet slippers and leotard. If I’m truly going to find myself, breaking free of the routine and regimens of my old life is a must. Starting with working my body to the point of exhaustion. Ballet can become a means of fun again. I can dance because I love it, not out of obligation.

Grabbing, instead, a pair of jeans, a sweater, and my toiletries, I quietly pad down the hallway to the bathroom. Closing the door, I face the mirror and acknowledge that if I want to move forward with figuring my life out, I need to strip the bleach from my hair—return to my roots, so to speak. I can’t remember the last time I saw my natural dark-brown hair color.

As I pull out the baby oil and cotton pads to help remove my fake lashes, I stare at my reflection. I never thought of myself as vain before, but the more I look, the harder it becomes to find any flaws in my appearance. I have brilliant blue eyes, the perfect button nose, high cheekbones, and naturally plump lips.

I’m every pageant girl’s worst nightmare and every agent's wet dream. My discipline and lack of interest in behind-the-scenes drama have made me a sought-after commodity with modeling agencies and even a couple of casting directors in the past. But every girl I’ve tried to befriend hates me, only ever seeing me as competition, which, sure, I am, but I’m also human. And being so alone has taken its toll on me, so no matter what happens next, I know I can never compete again.

Life in the spotlight was never something I aspired to, but without the pageants and the moderate fame that comes with it, what can I possibly do?

First thing is to alter my looks drastically. It’ll help avoid temptation in the future.

Reaching into my makeup bag, I take out the little cuticle scissors, and without thought, my hand takes over. Placing the sharp tip to the flesh under my eye, I drag it down, watching as the skin splits and blood slowly drips down my cheeks, splashing into the sink.

What did you just do, Marilyn!

My mother’s disgusted voice reverberates in my head as I stare, transfixed, while crimson droplets continue to run. Nobody’ll want a girl with a scar on her face—especially one so long and visible. I cut in deep enough that it’ll leave a mark, but not so deep that it’ll require medical attention.

Grabbing a soft cloth from the place under the cupboard that Shaw did last night, I press it to the open wound. Tears stream unheeded down my face as the realization of what I’ve done kicks in. Wracking sobs escape my body and buckle my knees, and as I fall to the floor, the cloth drops, and I place my head against my bent knees, trying to draw in a deep breath that refuses to expand my chest.

It’s not until warm arms wrap around me that I realize how loud I must be. “Hey…shh. It’s alright.” Shaw’s deep drawl loosens the boa constrictor around my chest, but everything else is the same.

I’m broken, and there’s no fixing me.

Not now.

Not ever.

Chapter

Seven

SHAW

I heard Monroe the minute she got out of bed.

As soon as the bathroom door shut, I came straight to the kitchen to throw on a pot of coffee. I didn't know if she'd like it, but I needed the warm brew to wake me up enough to deal with cow shit.

When the shower hadn’t turned on by the time I finished my first cup, I went upstairs to check on her. Her sobbing told me something was wrong. I opened the door quietly, noticing blood splatters in the sink and her on the floor, and had no idea what to think.

Now, holding her in my arms, comforting her as she buries her head further into her knees, I have no fucking idea how to help her. I’ve never dealt with a woman in tears, and it’s like being in foreign territory all over again.

“Monroe, you have to tell me what’s wrong, or I can’t fix it.” She shakes her head. The blood worries me most. “Can you tell me where you’re hurt, at least?”

I feel her hold her breath as silence fills the room before she slowly lifts her head, and I see the lengthy cut down her cheek.

“What the hell happened?” This can’t be anything other than self-harm.

“Nobody will want me if I’m not pretty.” Her tortured whisper renders me speechless.

How the fuck do I respond to that?

“Monroe.” Shit. “We need to get you to a doctor before that scars.” And as the words slip past my lips, I realize that might be exactly what she intended.

“No!” Her emphatic shout confirms my thought. “I don’t want it fixed. I hate perfection. I need to be flawed.”

Her wild eyes worry me more than the scar, and I wonder if she’d do more to hurt herself. I can’t pretend to understand her turmoil, but I do understand the need for change—drastic as it may be.

“Can I clean and bandage it, please?” She agrees, and I stand, pulling her up with me and lifting her onto the counter. Same as last night, only this time, I’m not just cleaning her up; I’m going to try to fix her.

Right now, her vulnerability has convinced her that a scar will make her undesirable; it won’t. And I get the feeling that in a few weeks, months, maybe even years, she might come to regret the decision to mar her face.

“Tell me what’s going on, Monroe.” Unfortunately, this girl won’t speak unless she wants to, and for me to protect her, that’s a problem. “I have to know, so I can keep you safe.”

Her soft blue eyes maintain contact as she asks, “Will you take me to a hairdresser?”

I freeze in place while pulling out butterfly bandages, trying to get a read on what she’s thinking, but come up empty.

“What for?” I ask, but she only shrugs. “Then, no,” is my response. I’m not about to risk some asshole finding her over beauty care. Even if I get the feeling she doesn’t give two shits about that.

Monroe turns her head, and before she lowers her eyes, I notice tears bubbling up again. I don’t like it. But why? This girl is completely different than what I’m used to, and I don’t have a clue how to take her behavior. She’s not trying to manipulate me, or she wouldn’t be hiding her feelings from me, but fuck, I think that’s why this is worse.

“You have to let me in, Monroe. You don’t get to just shut down and think I don’t give a shit.” Lifting her chin with a gentle hand, I wish I could make her smile.

I watched her win Miss California this morning, and when she allows herself to smile, the light she emits is impressive, even if it doesn't reach her eyes.

“Is this what you always wanted to do?” she suddenly asks, and I take a moment to think about my answer because, right now, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

Wiping the remaining blood off her cheek, I gingerly pat it dry with a cloth before responding, “I thought I would be Delta Force till I died.” And I did. Until that mission two years ago.

“What happened?”

“I was injured. Had to have a complete hip replacement.” In all honesty, I might have been able to return in some capacity, but my mindset had changed.

“You were medically discharged?”

I watch Monroe stare at herself in the mirror, at the bandages I applied, and catch her balling her fists. She wants to rip the covering off to admire her scar. It’s a challenge to understand half of what this girl thinks; she’s harder to crack than any man I’ve interrogated in my career.

“I was honorably discharged. I had an epiphany in the hospital and realized what I wanted more than serving my country.”

“What’s that?” She meets my stare in the mirror.

“To come home to my family. I watched my best friend die, leaving behind a wife and two kids. One was a newborn.” I still feel guilty that I returned home, and Trace didn’t. “There is no greater honor than serving this country, but for the first time in my life, I wanted to be selfish.”

“Do you have a family?” I shake my head no. “What’s stopping you?” For someone who doesn’t like answering my personal questions, she sure doesn’t mind asking them.

“Haven’t found the right girl yet.”

“Oh.”

“What about you? What are your plans for the future?” Any light in her eyes disappears as she slips off the counter, pushing me back and avoiding eye contact again.

“Nothing, really.”

I don’t believe her.

“You don’t want a family? A career?” She shrugs in response. I grip her shoulders and notice her flinch, but I don’t let her go either as I turn her to face me. “Tell me.”

“I get the future my mother decides for me.” Her hands lift to clasp my arms as I hold her, and I look at Monroe with fresh eyes.

I see her pain. Her loneliness. Her desire to be more than what she’s been turned into. And it’s then that my attraction kickstarts my heart. Beholding Monroe for the first time, and the way her eyes beg me to give her life.

Leaning forward, I move slowly enough, allowing her time to step away, before placing my lips over hers. I bring her closer, leaving not an inch of space between us, and lick across her plump lips before sucking the bottom one.

She’s inactive at first but quickly gives in to the moment, her fingers tightening on my biceps, and her mouth opening slightly. I accept the invitation to go deeper, to discover more of her. She shivers, and I don’t hesitate to lift her shirt the slightest bit, exposing her soft flesh for exploration. All too quickly, we’re gasping for a breath of air, and for the first time since seeing her photograph, I glimpse a bit of life in her eyes, and her lips quirk up at the sides as she sighs.

“That was nice,” she whispers, leaning her head against my chest. “I’ve never done that before.”

At her confession, my hands freeze while rubbing her back. I would never have guessed that. I figured Monroe was inexperienced, but never being kissed shocks me. In my mind, how could she not have had boys waiting in line to experience even a second of her passion?

“Now you have,” I murmur into her hair. I hope to give her many more firsts after today.

Chapter

Eight

MONROE

I feel dazed. Excited. Amped up in a way I haven’t felt in far too long.

Shaw kissed me.

It wasn’t anything spectacular or wildly romantic, but it was my first, and it was perfect.

The kiss was mine.

I think that out of everything I’m feeling, having that sweet moment between us and making it ours is one of the best moments of my life. Which is sad because I’ve won titles, money, and scholarships. I have so much to be grateful for, but it’s this unexpected kiss that stands out as the most memorable for me.

After rushing through my shower and staring at the bandaged cut on my cheek for too long, I hesitantly open the bathroom door and immediately smell coffee and bacon. My stomach gurgles at the aromas because, even knowing I was unreasonable last night, I haven’t had a full meal since the early breakfast before our flight yesterday.

I already hear Mari the cow crying outside, and my first instinct is to go to her, but I have to start putting myself first and learn to do what I like and want instead of what’s expected. Starting with breakfast.

Padding down the stairs on silent feet, I hear Shaw and Rita talking in the kitchen, and as I walk closer, I gain a clearer picture of who Shaw is in his home. His decor leans rustic, in a Joanna Gaines fashion, but more toward dark-wash colors than light ones.

The gun cabinet near what I assume is his office is slightly terrifying, encasing five large guns. I don’t know anything about the weapons, so I couldn’t begin to guess what they are.

Substantial, bulky furniture prevails throughout the house, and even though it might not be my usual style, it sure looks comfortable. Like the plush cushions could swallow me up while I get lost in a good book.

It’s easy to slip into the kitchen unnoticed, as Shaw sits at the breakfast bar sipping from his cup, and Rita is turned around at the stove, flipping what looks like pancakes.

Settling at the round teak table, I listen while they talk about the day’s chores and am surprised to see it’s not even eight a.m. yet. I didn’t take notice of what time I woke up this morning.

“Do you think it’s the mother?”

My head pops up at Rita’s question, and I pay closer attention.

“I do.” Shaw’s deep voice sounds troubled.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize they’re talking about me and my reason for being here. And the direction their conversation is going makes me uncomfortable. Though it might be the only way I’ll find out what’s going on.

All I’ve been told so far is that someone invaded my space, and I needed to disappear for a while. I was never informed of the kind of danger I was in or could be in, and when I pushed for more, my mother and Claire always sent me off to the gym, practice, or an appointment.

“But do you really believe a mother could threat– Oh!” Rita stops mid-sentence when she turns to face Shaw and sees me. “Good morning, Monroe.” She plasters on a false smile, and I wish I could say I wasn’t used to everyone doing that.

“Good morning,” I reply, not returning her smile.

I wish I could explain to people why I’m like this, but they never understand. Half the world believes even a fake smile can solve problems. In my experience, it merely creates more.

“Hungry?” She tries again as Shaw finally spins in his seat.

I nod because my voice catches when our gazes meet. It's filled with heat and need. I know precisely what he’s thinking and can feel the slight blush slowly growing up my neck.

“Morning, Monroe.” I bite my lip, holding in a sigh. I want to go to him and explore another kiss with the confidence of this morning, but I don’t. If he wants something from me, he’ll have to make his intentions known because I have no idea how to express my own. “Coffee?” he offers.

“No, thank you.” I don’t tell him I love coffee, but I'm not allowed to have it. The pageants are fine with it; my mother’s not. She’s beaten it into my head that its addictive properties are bad for me.

Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t, but shaking the discipline instilled in me from an age I don’t even remember is a difficult habit to break.

Shaw’s eyes narrow at my answer, and worry lines crease Rita’s forehead, and I know their responses have nothing to do with the coffee and everything to do with my refusal.

Not wanting to be rude, I try to explain. “I was trained from a very young age about what I can and cannot consume. I have an image, a brand to represent, and the expectation is that this isn’t vacation; therefore, I must treat it like any ordinary day.” Instantly, it’s apparent they don’t like my answer.

“When’s the last time you did something for yourself? Something that was just because you wanted to and were not dictated to.”

I think hard about Rita’s pressing question, and the answer I come up with is sad.

“Yesterday. Sitting with Mari.”

“Sitting with my broken cow is the only thing you’ve ever done for yourself?” Shaw’s incredulity isn’t surprising. His anger is, though. “You’re twenty fucking years old, Monroe. How long are you going to let someone else dictate your life?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before storming off to his office, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Ignore him. He’s passionate about freedom.” Rita fills a plate with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon before bringing it over to me. “You don’t leave until you’ve eaten something more off this plate than you did your dinner last night.”

I stare down at the steaming platter of food, knowing I should eat it. All of it if I want. I’ve already decided I’m done with my life in California, so doing this shouldn’t be a concern. Scooping up a forkful of eggs, I stare at the bacon and know that even though I crave the salty taste that comes with it, my mind simply won’t allow me to. A lifetime of conditioning has been ingrained in me and letting it go will not be so easy.

Pushing the plate away, I force myself to stand, grab a bottle of water from the shelf by the counter, and head outside. Mari’s soulful calls beg for someone to pay attention to her.

“Hey, sweet girl.” As soon as I speak, she begins to amble over to me. I don’t know if I’m allowed to enter her pen, so I remain on my side of the fence. As she sways into my touch, I wish I could get closer. I hardly know anything about cows, but I know this beautiful girl is unique.

Chapter

Nine

SHAW

I don’t understand why the fuck I’m so mad; there’s no reason to be. I’m being paid to protect her, not claim her. But damn, after our kiss this morning, I really thought we were on the same page.

Growing up, I never considered myself a romantic. Hell, even as an adult, I haven't been. At least, I don't think so. I’m not some player looking to fuck every girl I see, but with Monroe, something’s certainly different. From the way she communicates with Mari to the way she ponders every word she speaks.

Monroe is methodical, yet naïve. Vulnerable, yet worldly. A complete contrast to what I thought someone with her background would be. Her fragility shows in every bone in her body, and I’m drawn to how possessive of her it makes me.

When I took this job, spending more than five minutes talking to her was not a consideration; now, I find I can’t go more than five minutes without thinking about her.

Needing to clear my head, I take out her file and open Draven’s emails containing the background checks, and the more I learn, the more I lean towards it being her mother.

The stalking started about two years ago—around the time Monroe would have turned eighteen, making her a legal adult. At first, it was light-hearted, just flowers and love notes left at the door of her hotel rooms. Always anonymous. Never reported to the police because Helen insisted it was all harmless.

A short while after Monroe refused to commit to last year’s Miss Universe pageant, things escalated. And if I had to guess, that’s when she expressed her wish to leave pageant life. She likely spoke to her mother about retiring and using her winnings to settle down and figure out her life. But little did Monroe know, her mother burned through those savings almost as quickly as she won them. My girl… shit …has been used and exploited in some of the worst ways.

After the last threat, a note stating that Monroe had better give herself over to her admirer or risk being kidnapped, Claire insisted on calling Banks Protection Services at Lorie’s referral. Pointing me back to Helen as the perpetrator.

Giving Draven a call, he answers with, “Hey man, how’s it going?”

I respond, “Monroe is different,” and huff out a breath.

“Not surprising. She hardly spoke two words to me yesterday, and when she did, that mother of hers talked right over her. You got my emails, I take it?”

“Yeah. Look, the more I check into this, the more I’m convinced the mother is behind it all. And Claire is the one who insisted on hiring us.”

“Makes sense. What do you need me to do?”

“Can you look further into Helen’s background? Military deep dive. See if you find anything about Monroe’s father too. Maybe he has information we can’t access.” I find it hard to believe that a father would just abandon his daughter so effortlessly.

“I can do that. Anything else?” He waits as I stare out the window at the girl quickly taking over my life.

“Honestly, man, I’m not sure. This morning, I caught her slicing her cheek open with a small pair of scissors.” Which still bothers me.

“What the fuck?”

“She said that nobody would want her if she wasn’t pretty.” And I fucking get it. She’s been a piece of meat almost her entire life.

“Jesus Christ. She needs anything, Shaw, say the word, and we’ll help however we can.” His incredulity matches mine.

“Thanks. I’m going to go talk with her, see if she can shed some light on these messages. If I can get her away from that damn cow of mine.”

Draven chuckles as he hangs up the phone.

No one understands why I saved the mammoth. I can’t do anything with her, and she’s noisy as hell, but I’ve grown fond of the beast.

Picking up the files containing copies of the notes, threats, and images Monroe likely has no idea were taken, I head for outside. Pleased when I pass through the kitchen and see she’s eaten something this morning, at least.

Stepping onto the porch, I see Monroe sitting on the ground facing Marilyn, faintly humming. How fucking odd that they share the same damn name. When I gave it to Mari, it was only because there’d been a tabloid about Marilyn Monroe in the gas station I stopped at on the way home that day.

Fate. My mom’s voice whispers through my mind. The crazy old bird would tell me it’s written in the stars that Monroe and I share such an odd commonality.

Maybe she’d be right, maybe she’d be wrong.

I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of it once she finds out about Monroe.

“Hey,” I call softly, and both of them turn to look at me. Monroe spins around on her ass, leaning against the post, giving me her complete attention. “You up for some questions?”

She shrugs again. Damn her and her shrugging.

Sitting in front of her, I lift her legs and drape them over mine. I don’t like the idea of being so close and not touching her, even in a simply innocent way.

“I’m sorry I stormed off this morning.” She looks up at me, her face a mask of indifference. If not for the flicker in her eyes, I’d think she doesn’t care one way or the other. “I spent a lot of years fighting for our country's freedom. Learning that someone I care about has endured a lifetime of dictation isn’t an easy pill to swallow.”

She just nods, and I force back my anger. Not at her, but at why she behaves this way.

“Tell me something, Monroe.”

“Tell you what?” Her eyes lift as her fingers play with the blades of grass next to her hips.

“Anything you want.” I need to get her to open up to me, and so far, she’s been harder to crack than any safe I’ve encountered.

Braving a quick look over her shoulder, she whispers, “I like your cow.”

Huffing a short laugh, I say, “Yeah, I figured that out. What else?”

“I really wanted to eat that bacon this morning.” Her chin wobbles, and I want to pull her into my chest, but I get the feeling she’ll clam up again if I do.

“Why didn’t you?” I ask instead, knowing I’m going to hate the damn answer.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth before responding, “I could hear my mother in my head, yelling about how fat I would get. I could feel the beating she gave me when I was nine and gained ten pounds. I could feel the dizziness of so many days being starved because I would look at a pastry.”

My throat constricts with volatile emotion as Monroe confesses to her imprisonment. Because that’s exactly what her life has been… A prison.

Curling my fingers along her jaw, I tilt her head, growing angrier by the minute, watching her struggle to keep tears from falling. Likely terrified of another reprimand.

“Baby, listen to me.” Her glossy gaze meets mine. “This is your life. You are free to do as you wish, and so long as you’re here, I will protect you from anyone that tries to stop you.”

I realize she won’t believe me at this point. It’ll take time. Something I have plenty of.

Chapter

Ten

MONROE

I’m suffocating…

My whole life, I’ve been forced into a box filled with rules and expectations, and when they weren’t adhered to, punishment ensued. I’ve never shared the instances of beatings and starvation with anyone. None of it. And now that they're out there, I can’t take them back, and my breath is being ripped from my lungs again. My tragic life has been exposed, and all the dirty secrets I’ve kept hidden from the world will come to light.

I’m hyperventilating. The constrictor that so often rests around my throat tightens with every new breath I take. Shaw pulls me into his lap as I claw at my neck, trying to free myself from the invisible force stealing air from my lungs.

“Hey… hey… You’ve got to calm down, Monroe. Concentrate on my voice, listen to my heartbeat. Close your eyes and count.” His hand presses my head to his chest, and the thudding beat of his robust heart rhythm forces me to focus on something else.

Slowly, I begin to feel myself breathing in sync with his inhalations. With each one comes a steady thump of his heart, and I’m finally under control again. Panic attack averted, but embarrassment…full steam ahead.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, darlin’.”

Closing my eyes, I relax into Shaw’s hold, and it’s easy to accept that he won’t let anything bad happen to me. Trusting in myself and exploring who I want to be is harder.

“I’m going to ask you something, Monroe. I only want you to answer if you can be completely honest with me.”

I tilt my head up to look at him, his heartbeat still keeping me calm as I agree.

“If given the choice to break free of your life in California, would you want that? To start over somewhere new, where everything is completely of your choosing?” The steadfast look in his gaze says he’ll make it happen if I say yes.

Closing my eyes, I concentrate on my breathing before responding, “Yes.” Because that’s precisely what I want. I would rather not return home. I’m not a Barbie, and I’m tired of that life. Have been for years. But every time I tried to express my displeasure, I was punished. Then this stalker showed up, and over the last year, the threats have gotten worse, so I haven't had much choice.

Shaw’s mouth brushes a kiss along my head, and I’m reminded of how he made me feel this morning, how my body buzzed with anticipation. A feeling I never thought I’d experience again. One I want to repeat over and over. With him.

“You’re safe here, Monroe.” His fingers tilt up my chin, and before I can open my eyes, his lips claim mine again, and everything floats away. The worry and panic are gone, replaced with lust and desire.

For the first time in my life, I want to explore my body with a man. I want to find out what the big deal is that makes all the girls lose their minds over boys.

The trouble with Shaw is, he’s more liable to steal my heart.

Before jumping headfirst into the first choice I get to make in my life, I must figure out if it’ll be possible to continue on without him once he’s no longer protecting me.

“Stop thinking so hard.” I can feel his smile against my lips.

“Could we do this more?” I barely breathe the words past my lips, terrified of rejection.

So when he says, “We can do it as often as you like,” I sigh with relief and melt further into him.

For the rest of the morning, we sit with Marilyn, so she’s not lonely. Shaw asks me questions about my life and who I think would want to hurt me, and we kiss until we’re both breathless.

By the time a vehicle can be heard rumbling into the driveway, I’m so relaxed that when panic over it being my mother or a stalker bombards me, I pass out with the swiftness of my fear.

Chapter

Eleven

SHAW

At the sound of a vehicle coming down the road leading to my ranch, I see it’s Rita’s red Jeep, so I don’t move. What I don’t expect is Monroe frozen with terror, then passing out in my lap. I check her pulse and feel that it’s steady, but her mind is so fucked up that fear of the unknown shut her down.

“I’m back!” Rita calls, and as she roams around back, likely having seen us making out like teenagers when she pulled up, she drops the bags in her hands when she notices Monroe's state and runs over. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah. She’s got a lot going on in her mind, and if I had to guess, it’s because of her mother.” If I weren’t such a good guy, I’d kill the fucking bitch.

“She’s gone, right? Back to whatever hole she crawled out of?” Rita’s always been a mother hen to anyone she views as wounded. And Monroe is as wounded as they come.

“Yeah, I told her she wasn’t allowed back here. Hopefully, she listens.”

Carrying Monroe inside, I head to my office where paperwork awaits me, and there’s a couch for the sleeping beauty in my arms to rest on. Laying her down on it, I carefully remove her shoes before grabbing the afghan off the back of the sofa and placing it over her body.

When I step back, I watch her sleep for a moment, wondering how often she gets a full night of peaceful rest. I know that last night, she paced around her room most of the time, then woke up this morning with the asinine plan to scar herself. Swiping a hand down my face, my scruffy beard scrapes my palm, and frustration eats at me.

Getting involved with the woman under my protection isn’t the best idea, but the magnetism between us calls to my soul, and I don’t think I want to ignore it. If I’ve read Monroe right, she feels the same way, which means I need to get this shit figured out sooner rather than later.

Sitting behind my desk, I pull up the spreadsheet for the steers the ranch is selling next week. When I moved to Eagle Rock and bought this place from an old man looking to retire, I inherited his entire livestock, as well as his clients. Most of the cattle have been sold for meat and some of the heifers and bulls for breeding.

I’m working on offloading them all over the next year or two, so I can transition into a therapy ranch. The main focus will be horses trained to accommodate special-needs individuals who otherwise wouldn’t be able to ride just any old mare. I also intend to include smaller livestock. Goats, llamas, and pigs will have their own designated area for those interested in learning about them. And now that I see how soothing Marilyn is to Monroe, she’ll be a part of things as well.

I never could have sold her, but I had planned to keep her separate. I realize now that would have been a mistake. Marilyn is a huge part of my life here, and she deserves to be recognized for it.

It’ll be a while before the ranch reopens under my new vision, but I’ve spent a long-ass time saving for this, and my parents have even invested, helping me ensure it will be a success. And with a solid plan in place, I know that one day, it will be.

If I can convince Monroe to give me a chance, I think she’ll be an essential part of it too. She has a perspective I lack when it comes to people who’ve been abused.

After arranging for the cattle to be picked up late next week, I get back to looking through Monroe’s file. It seems something new pops up with each pass through, as I wait on Draven’s email about her father.

As tight-lipped as she’s been so far, I worry something even more tragic has happened in her past. Not much shocks me anymore, but after learning just how competitive the pageant circuit is, I get the feeling I might be soon enough.

“I wanted to go to the salon earlier so I could change my hair.” Monroe’s soft voice draws my eye to find her watching me.

Not understanding, I stare at her blonde locks, frown, and ask, “Why?”

“Blondes win more. I haven’t seen my natural color since I was a little girl.”

Is that even legal?

“What if I can get someone to come out here?” I really don’t want to take her into town. Eagle Rock may not be large to some, but it’s big enough for her to be recognized.

“I’d really appreciate it.” She sits up, still looking a little pale, and crosses her legs. I watch her for a few minutes, but it seems to make her uncomfortable because she squirms off and on, then finally says, “Fear consumed me when I heard the vehicle. I don’t even know why. Half the time, I don’t make sense to myself, and I can’t stop my responses.”

“You had a panic attack,” I confirm. She nods. “You know that’s okay, right? You won’t be punished for having feelings here.” She nods again, but I don’t think she gets it. Not really.

Chapter

Twelve

MONROE

It’s the day after making my request, and Shaw followed through. A stylist showed up, whom I learned works in Billings and is trained to work on delicate hair like mine. Mindy—it took a few minutes of her chattering to learn her name—was ecstatic to get her hands on my blonde locks.

For as long as I’ve been coloring it, I wasn’t shocked when she said it wouldn’t be possible to strip the bleach out. We'd have to dye over it. It’s not ideal, but as long as I’m no longer blonde, I don’t particularly care.

Shaw has been in his office doing paperwork, making phone calls, and god only knows what else, so it’s just been Mindy and me for hours. She talks as much as any of the stylists in the pageant world, too. Hairstyling is definitely her calling.

“I remember when you won the Miss California title; you were so beautiful.” Yep. Despite all the precautions, she absolutely knew who I was. Shaw made her sign a non-disclosure agreement as soon as she squealed her delight at being chosen. “Those other girls never stood a chance.”

“Thanks,” I mumble. I’m grateful to have her do my hair. She’s nice enough, but I’d rather pluck out my eyebrows than talk about pageant life.

“What brings you to Montana?” she asks.

My gaze flicks up to hers while she works on the front of my head, and I answer without thought, “Shaw.” I want it to be true. I think I’d travel anywhere to see him. Be near him. When I first arrived, the land lifted a weight off my shoulders, but from his first touch, Shaw breathed life into me.

“He is a fine specimen.” I blush at her comment. “If Hollywood only knew what they were missing with your little escapade.”

I have to bite my tongue before I beg her to keep her silence. She signed the NDA, but if she thinks there’s a secret to be told and money involved, people will do anything. Experience has taught me that.

Needing to change the subject, I ask her about Billings and what her favorite things to do in the state are. Her smile falters for a second, but she rolls with it and soon fills me in on the national parks, the wildlife. Mindy swears there is no prettier sunset than a Montana mountain one.

“Have you ever been horseback riding?” she asks, and I pause.

“No. The animals are huge. It’s almost terrifying.” The mere thought of it makes me want to run.

“Well, if you plan to keep a ranchman, you’ll need to learn. I bet you’d look gorgeous up on a sweet mare.” Her smile is vivacious as she wraps plastic around my head to keep the hair off my shoulders.

“Do you spend a lot of time with horses?” I admit to being intrigued. I’ve never been as close to nature or livestock as I am right now. What would the harm be in trying?

“Not anymore. My granddaddy used to own a ranch near Kalispell, but he sold it when he got too old. Oops, don’t let him know I said that.” She laughs, and I wonder how I would, given I don’t know the man. Then I realize I’m being too literal and feel foolish.

“I’ll take you.” We both spin around at Shaw’s deep drawl. A slow smile spreads across his face, and it’s then I realize I must look silly. “Dark, huh?” He saunters over, and I’m tempted to get off my chair and step back. “I think I’ll like it.” He groans as his hands touch my thighs, fingers playing with the frayed edges of the rips in my denim jeans.

Biting my lip, I’m unsure how to respond. Our eyes lock in a hold I’m not sure I want to break, and the tension between us is as sharp as a wire's edge. I don’t want the moment to end.

“Phew. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Mindy comments, but I can’t look away from Shaw. “It’s definitely hot in here,” she whispers. “I’ll be back. Need to get some stuff from the car.”

Shaw growls deep in his chest. “Break that contract, and you’ll regret it,” he warns her as she walks away, phone in hand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Every girl needs a man who loves them like you do her.” My eyes widen at her parting words.

Shaw doesn’t love me.

He couldn’t.

My heart thuds so hard in protest that my chest aches. I want him to.

And that thought is scarier than anything I’ve ever known.

Chapter

Thirteen

SHAW

Monroe is blindingly beautiful; it should almost be illegal. And yet, with her covered in dark dye, an ugly towel wrapped around her shoulders, and plastic covering her head, I’ve never seen her look more stunning.

I overheard her and Mindy talking while in my office, and when Monroe said horses were terrifying, I immediately knew what we would be doing tonight. She’ll get that mountain sunset and first experience riding.

Mindy is right; Monroe will be gorgeous atop a calm mare, and I have just the one in mind when she’s ready to ride on her own. He’s an older quarter horse named Miles, brought with me from Texas. A mild-mannered stud I’ve never had issues with. With his nearly black mane and tail, I think Monroe will enjoy the beast.

As soon as the hairstylist mentioned love, I knew Monroe would internally freak out, so I didn’t hesitate to lean forward and kiss her. Sucking her lip into my mouth, I nibble on her gently until her hands reach out for me. It’s when Monroe touches me that I know she’s into it. She isn’t just lost to the sensations; she's an active participant. Her innocent little tongue plays with mine, and my cock twitches, protesting the confines in which I’m forced to keep it. Much as I want to take this sultry girl to bed, I know she isn’t ready for it yet.

Soon. When she's unafraid of any consequences. But not yet.

Slowly drawing back from her, I can’t help but grin when she follows me, unwilling to lose contact. It’s progress. Slow, but I’ll take it.

“I want to take you riding tonight. Have a picnic in the hills. Watch the sunset.”

“I think I’d like that.” For the first time since she arrived, I get a full-blown smile from Monroe that reaches her eyes and illuminates her face.

“Fuck are you gorgeous when you smile and mean it.” My thumb catches her lip, and her tongue peeks out to lick the tip. Now it’s my turn to groan. “I’ll be back when you’re done here.” She nods as Mindy returns with a small bag in her hand. “Have fun, ladies.” Turning away, I discreetly try to adjust my aching dick from view, but I’m pretty sure I fail when Monroe sighs.

Concentrating on work has been a bust all afternoon, and I’m not sure how I’ll get a damn thing done until I’ve lost myself in that woman’s body. She’s all I think about anymore.

Staring at my computer screen, I’m not sure how much time passes while listening to Mindy talk on and on. She’s trying to fill the void of silence from Monroe, and honestly, I get it. She’s probably used to chatty clients, but that’s not how my girl works. Monroe genuinely enjoys the quiet in a way I don’t think many can.

Her life has been a series of frantic events—one after the other. And if I had to guess, peace and quiet have been a rarity to her. With nothing but silence surrounding her here now, I guess I'll often wonder if Monroe enjoys it as much as she did when she first arrived. Living in such isolation isn’t for everyone, and with the nearest town thirty or so minutes away and no neighbors for miles, it might drive her to boredom and restlessness.

“Knock, knock.” My head quickly pops up at the subdued sound of Monroe’s voice. The transformation is magnificent.

Her once light, lengthy locks are now darker, with subtle hints of blonde, and a few inches shorter. She looks like a completely different woman.

One I find myself even more attracted to.

“Wow,” I mumble as I stand, slowly striding towards her. Mindy watches from the kitchen as I reach Monroe and pull her closer. The other woman’s knowing smirk is unmistakable as I close the door with my foot.

“Do you like it?” Monroe’s uncertain tone catches my attention.

Backing her against the door, I pin her body with mine, my eyes feasting upon her features. Her energy already appears lighter from the simple yet impactful change.

Brushing hair away from her neck, I don’t wait for permission to bury my face in the column of her throat. “You look stunning,” I whisper the words in her ear before kissing along her jaw.

Reaching down, I grip her thighs and slide her up the door, pressing my hardened length against her core. I hold her stare and slowly simulate the act of sex, needing to see her eyes to gauge her interest properly.

My body burns with desire, and when I finally catch the matching inferno in her gaze, I groan so deeply in my chest that she feels the vibrations.

“One day,” I hiss, catching sight of her pounding pulse. “We’re doing this. I’m going to be rocking back and forth inside your sweet body until we’re both lost in oblivion.”

“Shaw.” Her husky tone says far more than any words ever could. She wants everything I just promised but is afraid to voice it. Afraid to take something for herself and not consider what anyone will say or do. I don’t blame her, but I’ll work my hardest to change her mindset.

“Ready for that ride now?” She needs a change of subject to avoid feeling pressured, and I’m only too happy to oblige.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.”

Slowly letting her feet touch the ground, I tease her with, “Guess you’ll have to ride with me,” before pulling the door open and guiding her behind me out to the barn.

Chapter

Fourteen

MONROE

I’m free.

With the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, and the rolling mountains of Montana surrounding us, every weight I’ve ever carried is gone. Dissipating like water drying in a creek.

I was tense at first when Shaw sat me in the saddle in front of him. The new feelings he evoked while plundering my mouth in his office, then holding me against the door, and now, with his arms wrapped around me to handle the reins, have me frazzled.

From the moment we cleared the pasture’s gates, Shaw has allowed his horse Ripper complete control. He dictates where we go, and for once, I’m not stressed about what happens next.

As the animal under us slows to a trot, I open my eyes and stare in awe of our surroundings. Lush trees cover the mountain valley we’re passing through, and the gurgle of meandering water is heard in the distance. As we move past a small clearing, deer graze the land. They stop to stare when they sense us, but otherwise, we’re not perceived as a threat, and they continue feasting.

The warmth of Shaw’s fingers skimming under my shirt and across my flesh causes goosebumps, and my breathing grows harsher. He must take this route frequently because Ripper seems to know exactly where we’re going as his master kisses along my exposed shoulder.

I try to restrain my reaction to his ministrations but fail miserably, melting into his protective frame. There’s something about this man that makes me inherently trust him. I want to explore these feelings he brings out in me and push my boundaries to see how far they go.

“Well…” Hot breath brushes my throat. “What do you think?” A palm flattens across my quivering belly, and all I can think about is needing relief. But I know that’s not what he means.

My vision clears as I gaze around, sucking in a sharp breath at the majestic landscape before us. I’m in awe of the rippling creek, bright wildflowers, and lush field.

“It’s stunning,” I whisper, crestfallen when he releases me to dismount Ripper. After helping me down and getting settled on my feet, Shaw opens the saddlebags, retrieving items for our picnic that Rita was kind enough to whip up for us while he showed me how to saddle his horse, not that I did anything except watch him work.

My legs are sore and shaky from being unused to riding, so I stay still for a few moments. Everything within view is green, plush, and colorful—Spring’s in full swing in the Crazy Mountains.

After a couple of hesitant steps, my legs steady themselves, and I’m free to wander around. Dipping down to smell the flowers, I spot a fuzzy bumblebee floating from one blossom to another, like he’s skipping along, and a gentle smile tilts my lips.

Sitting in the tall grass, I don’t hesitate to lie flat on my back, allowing the unfiltered sun to beat across my body. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, inhaling the world around me and imprinting it in my memories. This is a moment to take with me always. Pull out on those cross-country trips and remember a time when I simply enjoyed myself.

A shadow blocks the sun, and I peek up to see Shaw standing a few feet away, his eyes perusing my body from toe to tip before joining me in the grass. He rolls over to cover my body, then pulls one of my legs up to rest against his hip, leaning on one arm while the other caresses my hair.

“I can feel the change in you here.” Our eyes meet, and I nod. “I knew you’d like it.” Bending forward, I meet him for the kiss this time and don’t hesitate to allow him to take control of the movements.

Grasping his shoulders, I knead the muscles beneath my fingertips as he slips his tongue past my lips, dueling with mine. So lost in the sensations, I don’t register how much time has passed before he draws back with a groan.

“There are a lot of wicked things I’d like to do to you right now.” He bites his lip as his eyes flick down to our entangled legs. “And I’m going to, one day very soon.”

“Like what?” I don’t know how or where the courage came from to ask, but the question has popped out now, and I can’t take it back. Nor do I want to.

A sexy smirk lifts the corner of his lips, and his eyes darken. Sitting back on his heels, Shaw grasps my ankle in his palm, lifting my leg to rest across his chest.

I’m spellbound when he speaks. “I’d start with kissing along the sensitive skin here.” His lips move along my ankle. “Then I’d slowly make my way up your calf.” Finger gliding along the covered flesh. “I’d leave little bites here”—he pinches the inside of each thigh—“and here,” before moving closer to the apex.

His hands transfix me. “What else?” I ask.

Meeting my stare, he holds it as his hand completely covers my sex. “I’d lick, suck, and bite across this delicate pussy until you screamed my name. Then I’d continue on until you lost your voice and begged me to take you or stop, whichever came first.”

My entire core throbs with desire for everything he promises, yet I’m still terrified. Afraid of what will happen afterwards.

“I’d cover your body from head to toe with mine, show you what it’s like to be taken by a real man, and make sure you crave me every minute of every day from then on.”

I have no words. Not because I don’t want it to happen, but because if I say anything now, I might beg Shaw for everything he just promised me.

Chapter

Fifteen

SHAW

Monroe is at war with her mind. She craves everything I said, and I’d be lying if I didn’t mention that my dick is rock hard just from telling her the things I’d like to do to her. I left off the part about riding her from behind, taking everything she has to offer, because that would scare her off. Eventually, she’ll be ready for it, though.

Rolling away from her tempting body, I lie on my back beside her, staring up at the cloudless sky, trying to imagine what she’s thinking. I recognize I can’t begin to understand what her life in the spotlight must be like or the damage that comes with it. But I want to. I want to know every hardship, all the ups and downs, and why she’s cooperated for so damn long.

“When I was a little girl, I used to dream of floating from cloud to cloud. Jumping across them like rocks in a creek.”

“And now?”

“I can’t remember the last time I took a moment to stop and admire the beauty of Mother Nature.” Getting to her feet, Monroe removes her shoes and poses in one of her ballet stances. “Ophelia used to make me dance in the rain. We would spend hours in the parking lot of whatever hotel we were staying at and dance, pretending the thunder was our orchestra.”

“That sounds dangerous.” I’m a little angry that someone would force a child to stay out in the elements like that.

“I loved it. I would twirl and pirouette to the beat of every drop, and when thunder rolled, I’d spin until I couldn’t feel my toes.” She does the moves, mimicking what she once performed.

“Why do you stay?” It’s apparent she loves the freedom of dancing, but the anxiety from being around people who exploit her bleeds through her voice.

Monroe drops to her knees beside me, and her answer cramps my heart. “I’m not good at anything else. What would I do?”

That's a loaded question. Loaded with her fears and the desires she’s been coerced into forgetting.

“You have plenty of time to figure it out now.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, Mari’s booming call vibrates through the valley.

“I could be a cow whisperer, I suppose.” Her unguarded snort and giggle light up her face. Monroe thinks she’s this crushed person who follows orders, but as time passes, I see more and more of the girl who yearns to experience life shine through.

Handing her a container of mixed fruit, Monroe doesn’t hesitate to open it and pop a berry into her mouth. I’ve discovered fruit is her food of choice; cheese is a close second. “Drink.” I hand her an electrolyte drink, and she gulps half of it down before her eyes shift to admire the scenery again.

“What did you do before this?” she asks, her eyes returning to mine, filled with genuine curiosity.

“I was a Delta Force operative.” Most of what I’ve done is classified.

She seems to understand that and doesn’t ask for stories about my missions. “Why did you leave?”

I shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of my injuries. “Got blown up, needed a hip replacement and rehab. Too injured to return on full duty.” Dropping my gaze to stare at my sandwich, my hip throbs, reminding me of the traumatic experience.

Monroe’s soft hand drapes over my forearm as she quietly says, “I’m sorry, Shaw,” with a wealth of understanding in her tone. This damn woman keeps surprising me.

I pop the lid back on her fruit, drag her into my lap, and together we bask in the silence as the sun begins its slow descent. The way her body relaxes so effortlessly into me tells me everything I need to know about this woman and our future… That there will be one.

Kissing along her neck and shoulders, she sighs and says, “I don’t think I ever want to leave here,” then freezes, like she didn’t mean to say that part out loud.

Gripping her chin, I turn her head so she can see how serious I am as I reply, “Good, because I don’t want you leaving.” Meeting her lips with mine, I keep the kiss soft and light. “But first, we need to figure out this stalker of yours.”

Her mouth droops, and I hate that I did that to her.

“It’s my mother.” Those words stop me short.

“How do you know?” I ask. She shrugs and tries to turn away. “Tell me what you know.” My tone is sharper than intended, but I’m not a fan of being lied to either.

“I’m not one hundred percent certain, but it makes sense.” Her chin drops to her chest, but I don’t miss the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Some of those threats are very graphic, Monroe. The things left in your rooms… That’s not something that can be faked.” The dead rodents, the pornographic images. Threatening to rape her in the middle of the night. A mother wouldn’t do that, would she?

“I overheard a conversation a couple of months ago.” Her sagging shoulders scream defeat. She believes I’ll turn on her now.

Chapter

Sixteen

MONROE

I should have told Shaw the moment we arrived. This is a hoax. A lie. A waste of everyone’s time and money.

Just like me.

But I had to get away; I needed to extricate myself from my mother's controlling antics. I couldn’t stand being told what to do, say, or eat anymore. My entire life had been one command after another. Then Shaw touched me; he stood up for me. And he believes I’m worth more than a crown.

How in the world am I supposed to give that up?

Nonetheless, I can’t continue lying to him anymore. He deserves the truth.

“What did you hear?” Shaw’s steady voice breaks the deafening silence after my confession.

Unable to meet his stare, I murmur, “She hired someone to stalk me to keep me under her control.” God, I hate her. “I don’t know when it started or who it is; I don’t even know everything that’s been done.” Being left in the dark is not new to me; it’s been that way most of my life, but this has gone too far.

“Monroe, look at me.” When I don’t immediately lift my head, a gentle finger touches my chin, nudging me to glance up at him. “What she's done, the lies she tells, it has no effect on how I feel about you. Get that thought out of your head right now.”

I want to believe him.

“I suspect you're right about your mother. She was the first one we looked into, as well. However, the person she hired has become transfixed with you. Whatever role they were playing has become reality, and you are in danger.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve spent time with you. You’re one in a million, and there isn’t a man on earth who wouldn’t become obsessed once he’s begun to learn who you are.” The intensity in his stare encourages my belief in him. “I’ll catch this guy, Monroe. I’ll make sure your mother is met with justice, and when you’re ready, I’ll help you set up a new life wherever you want.”

Here, I want to scream, but I’m afraid of being rejected.

With a sharp nod, I turn back to the mountain, enjoying the array of colors from the sunset. Mindy was right; I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.

The longer we sit, the darker it gets, and the quiet soon turns into the nocturnal sounds of nature—animals in the distance: owls hooting, wolves howling, and other critters scurrying through the trees and long blades of grass.

“Come on, it’s time to get you home.” Shaw helps me to my feet, and together we pick up what we brought. Lifting me into the saddle, he leads Ripper by the reins on foot.

It would be a lie if I said I didn’t prefer him behind me, holding me, keeping me warm as a chill whispers through the air. However, it’s safer this way because the only light remaining is from the last rays of sun and the appearance of the moon. Most of which is hidden by the mountaintops.

“Shaw.” I say his name as we reach the barn, and he helps me down. He stops, giving me his undivided attention. “Thank you for tonight.” Finding the right thing to say is difficult after being ignored most of my life. “It was a beautiful experience. It helped bring things into perspective for me, and I don’t think I’d have found that anywhere else in the world.” Or with anyone else.

Shadows hide his eyes from me, but when his hands move up my body, I step into him, and he pulls me close. Leaning down, he whispers against my lips, “Darlin’, I’d do anything for you.”

He takes advantage when I gasp, sweeping his tongue between my lips, flicking it against my own, and deepening the kiss until my heart pounds furiously and my knees go weak. The man knows what he’s doing as my body lights up for him.

Anticipation causes wetness to pool between my legs in a way I’ve never experienced before. I want everything he promised in those wildflowers, and I want them now. But I realize the wait will make everything sweeter. Especially once we both know I’m safe.

As he pulls away, I whimper, making him chuckle as he grinds his bulge against my stomach and cups my ass, holding me tight to his body.

“Go say goodnight to Marilyn; I know she’d love that. I’ll be in once I’ve got Ripper settled.”

I can only nod because the heat of our kiss has stolen my sanity. He swats my ass playfully as I do as I’m told.

The porch light flickers when I’m in range of its sensors, and Marilyn is there waiting for me at the fence. As soon as she spots me, she lets out a sound of what I hope is excitement and greets me with a few head bobs until my hands are on her.

“Hello, sweet girl, I’m sorry I’m late.” Every night since I arrived, I’ve been here to say good night to her before sundown. It’s become a routine for us and one I wouldn’t change for anything.

Resting my head against hers, she brings a peacefulness I’ve only ever felt with this animal. My heart rate slows down, and my mind clears as we cuddle.

“Do you think he’d let me stay?” I whisper to the cow, knowing I’ll get no reply. “Do you think he could love me?” Silence again, but she nudges me for more chin scratches, and we stand in silence as I wait on the man who has stolen every piece of my heart.

Chapter

Seventeen

SHAW

A sleuth her mother is not. It only took me an hour after sending Monroe up to bed to find the name of the man she hired to stalk her daughter, once I knew what I was looking for.

Alton Matthews. Plain. Middle-aged. Incapable of holding down a job.

So far, he hasn’t flown into Montana, but that doesn’t mean he’s not on his way or that he doesn’t plan to come. What I need to find out is if he knows Monroe is here. Given Helen hired him, I’ll assume that’s a yes, or will be soon enough.

I’m about to pick up the phone to call Draven when I notice the time and decide to email him instead. The first thing we need to do is locate Alton in Hollywood.

As I shut my computer down for the night, a flash of lightning bolts across the sky, quickly followed by a clap of thunder. It’s supposed to storm for the next three days. I don’t know how Monroe handles them, but with her being as skittish as she is, I decide to pop into her room to check on her before heading to my own bed.

Turning off lights and double-checking that the windows and doors are locked, I quietly stride upstairs. Once at Monroe’s door, I slowly turn the nob and push inwards. The curtains are open wide, allowing moonlight to spill across the bed where she sleeps, curled into a ball with a thick blanket covering her.

Going as silently as I came, I begin unbuttoning my shirt while approaching my room. After toeing my boots off in the doorway and tossing my clothes in the hamper, I move to the bed. Leaving the door open in case Monroe needs me during the night.

That’s what I tell myself anyway.

What worries me is that she’ll wake up early again and scar herself in a way she may come to regret later on. After spending so much time in the military, I’ve learned to spot someone in the midst of a breakdown, and Monroe displays all the signs of a traumatized individual.

Lying down in just my boxers, I leave the covers off, still hot from the warm day, and rest my hands under my head. My eyes close and exhaustion washes over me, taking me under.

Some time later, the squeaky floorboards wake me, the bed dips, and a warm body drapes across my chest, shivering. Thunder still rumbles through, and as I wrap my arms around Monroe, I hear her begin counting each thud of my heart. It’s what she says after each number that infuriates me, though.

“One, the number of mistakes you’re allowed to make. Two, the number of days you won’t eat. Three, the number of hours you’re forced to run. Four, the times you failed on purpose. Five, the weeks you were locked in a closet for failure. Six, the number of times you were arm candy. Seven, for luck.” Her voice grows quieter with each word until she finally drifts off.

I lie here, simmering with a rage I can do nothing with. How the fuck I’m supposed to go back to sleep after what I just heard is beyond me. I’ve seen and done a lot of shit in my life, but this pageant stuff…life in Hollywood…it takes things to a whole new level of fucked up. All I can do is hope I’ll be able to help Monroe leave behind the only life she’s ever known once the threat against her is neutralized.

By the time the sun begins to rise, I still haven’t had a wink of sleep, needing to ensure Monroe is as safe as she can be while in my arms. Knowing none is forthcoming, I slide from the bed and wrap her up in the blanket before having a quick shower and getting dressed.

Rita isn’t here yet to begin breakfast, so I turn the coffee on and get to work on some chores around the yard. Wanting to stay close to the house in case Monroe needs me again.

Grabbing the hose, I start filling water bins for Marilyn and the horses before prepping the feed buckets. Kane gallops into the yard around the same time as I hear Rita’s Jeep coming up the driveway.

“Morning, Shaw.” Kane nods his head as he grabs a pitchfork to start mucking out the stalls. “How’s Monroe settling in?”

“Still skittish, but she’s enjoying her time so far, and Marilyn adores her.” It amazes me how quickly the two have bonded, always wanting to be together.

“So, is she sticking around?”

Looking up at him, I give Kane my full attention and honesty because he’s been one of my closest friends for most of our lives. We grew up together in Texas, and when he jumped at the chance to join me here, I realized our bond only grew stronger with the time and distance I was away.

“I damn sure want her to. I can see a future with Monroe.” Marriage, kids, grandkids. Hell, if I’m lucky, great-grandkids.

“Knew it.” He grins. “The minute I saw you looking at her, I knew she was your forever. Damn happy for you, Shaw.”

I didn’t think I was that obvious, but when you know each other as well as we do, I suppose that’s bound to happen.

By the time Rita calls us for breakfast, the chores around the yard are finished, and I’m eager to see if Draven’s gotten back to me because now that I’ve said it out loud, I really fucking want to get this damn stalker dealt with and move on with Monroe by my side.

Chapter

Eighteen

MONROE

The thunder kept waking me up for the second night in a row, and with each cacophonous boom, I grew more terrified again. Of what, I wasn’t certain, but it felt ominous. So, like the previous night, I ran for Shaw, trying to be stealthy and unobtrusive, but as soon as I melted into his chest, his arms were around me. Comforting me. It felt as if he was waiting for me to join him.

As the daylight now begins to peek through the curtains again, the exhaustion I’ve carried around for years dissipates, and it’s all because of the man cuddling me from behind. For another night, I didn’t wake up with night terrors, nor did I feel as if I were crawling out of my skin.

I slept. I recuperated. And now, I’m ready for the day, whatever that entails.

“You overthink when you should still be sleeping,” Shaw’s gravelly, sleep-filled voice mumbles into the back of my neck.

“I’m sorry if I intruded.” I wanted to be gone before he woke up, but I should have known better. Especially with the way he continues to hold me; only he pulls me closer.

“Don’t ever be sorry with me, darlin’. You can crawl into my bed any night.” Shaw moves, my body slips backwards, and I stare up at him as he leans over me. He pushes my thighs apart with one of his own and settles between my legs. “In fact, for the future, I’m going to insist on you moving into my room.”

“You are?” I squeak out the words.

His wolfish grin makes my belly flutter, and my insides tremble.

“Yeah. I’m not a fan of you not being in my arms at night anymore. I haven’t slept this well in a long damn time.”

There are times when Shaw is so refreshingly honest with me, and I appreciate it so much. And then there are the times when that honesty is given to me, so I’m truthful right back. This is one of those times.

“Same here.” Watching him through my thick lashes, I can tell he’s pleased with my answer. In a shocking turn of events, I lean forward and initiate a kiss.

Shaw reacts quickly, pushing me farther into the bed with one hand knotted in my hair and the other squeezing my hip; he doesn’t hesitate to take the lead on my impulsive action. His length grows between my legs, and without thought, I lift my hips, applying pressure where we both desperately seek it.

Wrapping my arms around his back, I clasp him tight to my chest, allowing our thudding hearts to beat back the steady accusations of all my failures in my head. Slowly, so flipping slowly, my mother’s voice is drowned out by my own wishes and cravings.

Dragging my nails down Shaw’s back as he steals the little breath I possess, my fingers slip beneath his boxers, squeezing the firm globes of his backside in my palms. I'd imagined he was built tough, filled with a masculinity I’ve never paid attention to before, but to have it in the palm of my hands—literally—makes my heart skip a beat. Wanting, needing, hungering for him to lose his precious control with me.

I don’t know where the thoughts come from, but they feel right. They’re the most real thing I’ve had the pleasure of imagining.

“If we don’t stop now”—he pulls away, breathless—“I may not be able to later.”

I open my mouth to beg him not to stop, longing for everything with him, but my logical mind kicks in, asking if I’m ready to give myself to a man. The answer is as simple as it is complicated.

“I’m a one-time, forever kind of girl, Shaw.” I know how little sense that makes; it sounds contradictory. But he understands anyway.

“I realize that,” he assures.

“I’ve only ever dreamed of giving myself to the man I marry.” My voice cracks a little at the end because that dream occurred before I was turned into a Barbie doll. I haven’t thought about it in years, and if I’m being truthful, I don’t know how I feel anymore.

“Knew that too.” His eyes soften. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want, Monroe.” I nod. “Come on, let’s hit the showers.” Shaw climbs off, gripping my hand and pulling me along behind him.

“Together?” I gasp as we enter his bathroom. It’s functional, rustic in a way. The shower is huge. Rivaling some I’ve seen in hotels.

“Together,” he confirms and turns on the water before coming over to me and yanking my shirt up and over my head. I’m so shocked I don’t react. “Damn,” he groans while hooking his thumbs in my shorts and dragging them and my thong down my legs before removing his own clothing.

Surprised, I can only follow along as he pulls me into the stall with him. Warm water caresses my back, and Shaw’s hands rest on my hips before he lowers his head and presses me against the cool tile wall.

“I understand that you don’t know what you want yet, Monroe.” He whispers the words against my lips. “But I do. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here. Waiting and willing to give you everything your heart desires.”

How can he be so sure?

My time with Shaw seems to fly by. He’s methodical and calculated, yet not. He always seems to plan out his next move before making it, then just when I think he’s about to do one thing, he does the opposite.

Like now, it’s pouring rain outside, and it doesn't look like it’s letting up any time soon, but because I was depressed about not getting to spend time with Marilyn as she cried into the sky, Shaw moved the outdoor umbrella and heater to an area where I could sit with her in a lounge chair.

She’s quiet as she watches me read an old mystery paperback from Shaw’s office, but she seems content. I know I am. Even now, I can feel the man's gaze observing me from the confines of his office. I haven’t gathered the courage to ask him what he does in there yet because I wasn’t sure it was my business, but the more he hints at a future between us, the more curious I become.

Ringing in my pocket draws my attention, and without looking at the call display, I answer, “Hello?”

“Marilyn Monroe, it’s been forever, and you haven’t even checked in with me. Could you be any more self-centered? I’ve spent my life making sure you have everything you could possibly need, and you couldn’t be bothered to let me know whether you were safe from that brute of a man?” I cringe at my mother’s voice.

I didn’t expect to hear from her. Especially after Shaw shut off all locations and tracking on my phone when I arrived, and she hadn’t called complaining about getting the boot from his ranch.

“Hello, Mother. How are you?” I reply with the expected response because the words I want to expel are too cruel to say out loud to the woman who gave me life.

“Angry, Marilyn. I am angry,” she huffs, and I can picture her with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of vodka in the other.

“This was your idea.” I point out the obvious and can almost feel her getting ready to blow a gasket.

“Listen, you ungrateful little bitch. I made you, and I can break you.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve set out to do with this little stunt?” I’m as shocked as she is by the words I’m courageously speaking. “You did hire someone to pretend to threaten and stalk me, didn’t you?” Now, more than ever, I believe it to be true. Even if it shreds my heart.

“How could you say such a thing!” Her outrage doesn’t mask the truth. “That filthy cowboy is filling your head with all kinds of lies. I’m coming to get you.”

“No, you’re not,” I groan. “I’m not coming back to California.”

Silence greets my declaration. I’m going to regret this.

“Why, you snot-nosed brat, you damn well are. You have obligations and contracts to fulfill, and so help me, you’ll come willingly or by force.”

I believe that threat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Shaw storming his way over, and I know things are about to escalate. Instead, I turn the phone towards my face, peel off the bandage, and tear at the healing skin until it bleeds. I snap a photo and send it to her.

“I’m not coming back, and you’ll see why. You’ve made it so I’ll scar my own body to avoid another moment in your presence, Mother. I’m done. I quit. You’re fired. Whatever. But you and me? We’re no more.”

Lifting the phone over my head, Shaw grabs it, and I stand, walking out into the rain, not wanting to hear him lay into her.

I’ll never understand my mother’s hatred towards me. She’s supposed to love me, cherish me, but she constantly treats me as though I don’t matter, and for so many years, I’ve tried to change it. To be good enough.

But I’m not.

And now I know I never will be.

It’s a truth I’ll have to learn to live with. Even if I don’t know how.

As Mari calls out, I empathize with her sorrow. The deep sense of loss of someone who was supposed to be a profound influence in your life is suffocating.

Chapter

Nineteen

SHAW

As soon as Monroe’s cell rang, an alert set mine off. When I shut down her location and data collection, I cloned her phone for a situation such as this. I told myself it was to protect her, but it was more than that. It was my fascination with learning everything there is to know about her.

When she googled me this morning, my chest expanded painfully with delight. She was searching out information about who I was before owning this ranch and what I do now.

Watching Monroe sit in the rain, reading, and comforting my damn cow, you’d never know she was a pageant queen. From everything I’ve seen about her online, she’s anticipated to be this year’s Miss America. But after reading so many articles and fan comments, I don’t understand how she handles the pressure—until I recall watching her dance.

She kept insisting that ballet wasn’t just a talent to her. Now, I recognize it as an escape. It’s her safe place.

Noticing her back stiffen when she holds her phone to her ear, I realize it must be her mother on the other end. Quickly standing, I rush outside before the vile bitch can cause any more damage to her daughter's precarious emotional stability.

As I approach, she senses I’m behind her and hands me the phone before walking away.

“What the fuck is your problem, bitch?” My temper won’t allow me to hold my tongue.

“You!” Helen screeches, and I cringe at the noise. “You have turned her against me! I’ll show her and you! Marilyn is coming back home, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

I snort. “Fucking try me. You’ve exploited and used Monroe for the very last time. When I’m finished with you, you won’t be going anywhere but prison. You can tell Alton the same fucking thing.” Hanging up, I shove the device into my pocket and stride over to Monroe.

Gripping her shoulders, I say nothing, nor do I allow her to make a sound before slamming my lips over hers. I’ve found that when I kiss her, touch her, show her what she deserves, she isn’t so hard on herself.

I pull Monroe in as close to me as I can and devour her mouth, swallowing her surprised gasp, and reveling in her inviting moan of excitement. I can’t get enough of this woman, and soon, I pick her up in my arms, completely drenched, and carry her away.

I swore to her I would wait for as long as she needed, but I find I’ve lied. I can’t. Hell, I don’t fucking want to. I want to bury myself inside her innocent little pussy and stay there forever.

“Shaw.” She inhales my name as we’re forced to break apart or suffocate. Her delicate hands cup my jaw as I enter the house and head straight for the stairs, not stopping to remove our soaked clothing.

Taking the steps two at a time, I bypass her door and kick mine shut once we’ve entered. I don’t say a thing; she’ll tell me no if she doesn’t want this as much as I do.

Letting go of her legs, Monroe slides down my body until her feet hit the floor. I shed my coat and shirt before tackling my boots. The sound of her jacket dropping on the rug causes me to look up and see she’s begun stripping off her own clothes.

Forgetting my pants, I step forward, and instantly, our mouths clash again. My heart beats out of my chest, and I can’t curb my triumphant groan as her nails dig into my back, drawing me closer to her.

Helping her with her shirt and discarding her bra, I drop to my knees to pull off her shoes, then tackle her pants. As soon as Monroe’s naked, I take her down to the bed. Not nearly as gentle as I would have liked either, but she doesn’t seem to mind my lack of control.

“Fuck,” I groan against her neck. “Monroe, tell me no now if you don’t want this. I’m only so strong anymore.”

She parts her thighs in invitation, remaining silent.

Standing, I make quick work of shedding my pants before ripping off her thong and falling between her thighs. Her sweet honeysuckle and lilac scent draws me in until my face is buried between her lips.

Monroe’s hands brush through my hair, yanking strands as I lick and suck her sweet nectar. Her thighs try to tighten around my head, so I press them flat against the bed, opening her up for further exploration with my tongue.

“Shaw, I can’t…” Her breath hitches, and her body grows taut. I mercilessly nibble on the small bundle of nerves at her center until she screams and claws at my shoulders, trying to pull me away.

Gazing upwards, I notice Monroe’s eyes on me as I take one last long lick up the middle of her pussy. Swallowing her juices, I crawl up her body, leaving small love bites as I go. My dick throbs fiercely, waiting for its turn to sink into her sinful core.

“Tell me what you want, Monroe,” I moan into her ear, kissing along her neck. My dick has no trouble finding what it wants as I press against her sex, humping slowly between her lips, mimicking what we’ve both been craving.

The air grows heavy with anticipation as Monroe whispers, “Make love to me, Shaw.”

Chapter

Twenty

MONROE

I’m on fire. I swear, my body is an inferno that’s not ready to be extinguished. I’ve experimented with touching myself before, but nothing compares to Shaw’s forceful strokes. Nothing compares with the way he lapped between my legs and stole every ounce of pleasure until I couldn’t breathe.

“Anything you want, baby.” He grins like a wolf in response to my desperate plea.

I’ve known from the first second he touched me that this was where Shaw and I would wind up. I was meant to be underneath this man. Meant to experience the finest of pleasures at his mercy.

Shaw’s mouth descends upon me again as the swollen head of his cock begins to push at my entrance. “Relax for me, darlin’, or it’ll hurt more.” His groan is filled with restraint that I feel in his muscles as he holds back.

The pressure of his invasion is nearly too much to bear, so I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him closer. Shaw rips through my virginity, but the agony of it is not nearly enough to make me beg him to stop. I want more.

“More, Shaw, please. Give me more,” I plead, and the way he’s shaking above me only shows how much he cares.

“This is gonna be quicker than I fucking want,” he grunts with a slow thrust of his hips. His hands tighten painfully at my waist as he pistons in and out of my body.

My own pleasure gradually builds, and there’s buzzing in my ears. Blood pulses through me with the swiftness of a freight train, and soon, my body tingles and stars dance in my vision.

Shaw pumps faster, and the bed creaks loudly as it rocks with us. “Oh fuck,” he moans, and his lips glide along my neck, making me shiver. “Fuck. You’re so fucking tight, Monroe.”

The sensation in my belly intensifies, and soon, I’m weightless. Carefree. In absolute ecstasy. I never want it to stop.

When he attempts to pull away, I grasp him tighter to me. “Monroe, darlin’, you have to let me pull out, or I’m going to come inside you.” I moan, not opposed to that idea. “You could get pregnant,” he tries again.

Shocked at his words, my hold loosens just enough for him to slip free, and instantly, I miss how he fills me up. Staring down, I watch, utterly fascinated, as Shaw’s hand furiously jerks up and down the girth of his cock until his seed spurts out onto my belly.

As I suck in a sharp breath at the heat and eroticism of the act, my body shakes with desire.

“Goddamn, is that a beautiful sight.” My eyes shoot up to see what he’s looking at, and I realize he’s staring at me—covered in his essence. And I’d have to agree.

Feeling bold, I swipe a finger through the warm liquid. His eyes are riveted to my digit as I bring it to my mouth to taste him.

“Salty,” I murmur. He smirks.

Shaw gently brushes the hair off my face with an endearing look in his eyes. “You’re beautiful when you smile.”

My face turns crimson at his words because I know he truly means them. People compliment me all the time, but it’s never meant as much to me as it does coming from his lips.

This euphoric feeling emboldens me to confess my deepest desire: “I want to be a mom, Shaw.”

I didn’t realize a man’s eyes could be so expressive. In his, I see a future—our future—and a little boy who looks just like him. A little girl who loves to dance and cuddle any animal who’ll allow her. I see a life filled with love and laughter, and for the first time, I know exactly where I belong.

Thankfully, Shaw doesn’t hold back, covering my body again and rubbing his lengthening girth between my legs while brushing the sweaty hair away from my face. He drops a kiss on each cheek, then my lips, and replies, “I want to be the one to give that to you.”

Slowly, he pushes into my tightness again. I bite back the pain, and this time, we make slow, sweet love until we’re exhausted and notice the rain has finally stopped.

“I think we need to feed you,” he chuckles as my stomach rumbles.

“Pancakes and whipped cream?” Sounds divine in my book, so of course he makes it for me.

Chapter

Twenty-One

SHAW

We were granted a brief reprieve from the rain for the rest of the afternoon and into the night, so I spent the evening showing Monroe around the ranch. Sharing more details about my dreams for when I’m fully up and operational as a special needs/therapy ranch.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and I think that’s the moment I fell in love with Marilyn Monroe Kingsley. Without hesitation, Monroe happily offered ideas of what some of the kids might like, and much to my surprise—given that she’s never been on a ranch before—they were solid notions.

The suggestion to build a cheering stand, just like at a sponsored rodeo or horse show, was one I’d thought about but hadn’t solidified yet. But now that she’s said it, it will be one I incorporate. A therapy wall was another thing I really liked. A wall wholly dedicated for kids to draw and paint on. Providing visitors with a better-suited atmosphere is something unique I haven’t seen in other facilities that I’ve toured.

“You’re good at this stuff,” I murmur into her hair as she feeds another blade of grass to Mari.

She shrugs. “Not really. Your passion inspired mine. What you’re planning here will change so many lives, Shaw.”

Spinning her to face me, I lean forward and drop a tender kiss on her lips. When she follows me as I move to pull away, I can’t hide my smirk. Monroe is as addicted to me as I am to her.

The sound of a vehicle pulling up draws us apart. Unadulterated fear enters Monroe’s eyes again and sets me on edge. “Go inside,” I tell her. She doesn’t blink before running in the back door as I pull the gun from my waistband and slowly edge along the side of the house.

Relief hits when I see Draven and Nina walking up to the porch. “Hey,” I call out as I holster my gun.

While the danger isn’t as great as I’d originally thought—what with recognizing the mother’s involvement with Monroe's stalker and his identity—what worries me is the fact that the man has become obsessed.

“I tried calling,” Draven scowls at me.

“How you doing, Nina?” I ignore my friend.

“I’m good, Shaw.” I lean down for her to kiss my cheek. The woman can be deadly, but she’s sweet as hell with me, and it drives Draven crazy.

“We lost our tail on Alton this morning.” That grabs my complete attention.

“Where?”

“The airport.” My ears buzz at his words.

“The fucking bitch told him where Monroe is,” I hiss. There’s no way he isn’t coming here. That’s what I would do.

“She sold me out?” Monroe’s disappointed voice carries from the front door, and I spin to find tears streaming down her face.

“Darlin’.” I can’t stand when she cries. And she does it too fucking much because everyone around her has thoroughly betrayed her in the worst fucking ways imaginable.

Rushing to her side, I pull her into my arms. “I won’t let the bastard touch you.”

“I know.” She sniffles. “It’s just, why would she do that? I’m her daughter. Isn’t she supposed to be as fiercely protective of me?”

“Monroe.” Nina walks up the steps and takes her hands in her own. “When Lorie called me, shocking as it was, I knew at once you were someone special. Your mother doesn’t deserve you. She never did.” Monroe can only nod. “Now, that’s not the only reason we came.”

I look up at Draven, and he affirms it. “Let’s go inside to talk.”

Leading everyone into my living room, I sit next to Monroe as Nina begins to speak. “I have an old service friend who now tracks missing people down for a living. He’s not perfect, and he isn’t always right; however, I believe he’s found your father. He’s getting a DNA test first to confirm it, but we’re 99 percent certain it’s him.”

Damn. I wasn’t sure Nina and Draven would be able to find him.

Glancing down at Monroe, I can see she’s in shock. “How can you be sure it’s him?” I ask when Monroe stays silent.

“Court records mostly. But when he was questioned about family, he mentioned Monroe by name. Even using her preferred name. We could always be wrong, which is why the DNA test. But our investigator said the loving way he spoke about you leaves little doubt as to his identity.”

“And once it’s confirmed, then what?” I ask.

Still nothing from my girl.

“We give Monroe the information, and it’s hers to do with as she pleases. The man has no idea we are working for her, and it will remain that way unless she wants assistance with first contact.”

“What about my mother?” Ahh…there she is.

“What about her?” Draven frowns, as annoyed as I am that the woman is even a concern for Monroe at this point.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

MONROE

I’m on information overload right now. I can hardly think straight.

My mother betrayed me. Again.

They found my father.

How am I just supposed to be okay with all of this? I never imagined I would see the man who sired me again, let alone know he’s still out there. My mother’s betrayal is less shocking but more hurtful.

“I don’t know,” I finally answer Draven’s question. My thoughts are jumbled, and I can’t make sense of them yet.

“Once we catch Alton, Helen will be prosecuted alongside him and anyone else complicit in your stalking. You received real threats, Monroe. This isn’t getting swept under the rug.” Nina’s vehemence helps ease some of my anxiety.

“It’s late, and we’ve given you a lot of information. We’re going to head out now. Men at the airports throughout the state are watching for Alton. We haven’t been able to get our hands on any flight manifests out of L.A. yet, but once we know something, you will too.” Draven shakes Shaw’s hand as he guides Nina out of the house.

After locking the front door and checking the back, Shaw sits down next to me again. “What are you thinking, Monroe?”

“That’s a loaded question,” I mumble under my breath.

My entire life, I have been a burden on my mother, but I’ve foolishly loved her. The confirmation that she’s behind this stalking is still difficult to accept. And while I don’t remember my father, learning that he’s been alive all these years, thinking about me but never making a move to safeguard me, breaks my heart.

“Everyone who’s supposed to love and protect me has betrayed and abandoned me, Shaw. What do I do with that?” My throat clogs and tears well. I’m so sick and tired of crying over my life.

“Hey, now.” His gentle finger lifts my chin. “Not everyone.” Astonished by his whispered words, my eyes dart up to his as his mouth descends on mine. The softness in his eyes shines brightly with his feelings for me.

But he couldn’t possibly. Could he?

No. It’s way too soon.

Is it really, though?

Thinking is impossible as I’m lost in Shaw’s embrace. My heart aches for more of his touch as his lips slowly, sensually caress across mine, forcing a moan from my chest as his hands tenderly trail up my back, lifting my shirt as they go.

Dragging the material over my head, I hear it drop with a thud as Shaw lowers me back on the couch. He crawls between my legs, his hardness pressing roughly against my softness, so I lift my legs to wrap around his back.

Mimicking the act of sex is nearly as enthralling as completing it.

Releasing our lip lock, Shaw skims down my jaw to nuzzle against my neck. “I love you, Monroe.” I gasp at his words. “You don’t have to say it back. I understand that it’s not as simple for you, but you need to know someone is in your corner. That I’m protecting you at all costs.”

He lifts upwards, and the sincerity of his emotions is written across his face.

“But I do, Shaw; I love you too.” I force the words out through a constricted throat, realizing it really is too soon, but it’s also true. I have a love for this man I never believed I would experience in my lifetime.

“Yeah?” His childlike grin is filled with happiness.

Lifting a hand, I cup his cheek and nod. “Yeah, Shaw. I love you more than I ever thought I could love another.”

The rest of the night is filled with lovemaking, passionate words, promises, and future plans. With Shaw, I feel totally free and secure. Emotions I’ve never felt before rise to the surface, and for the first time in my life, I’m no longer worried about where I’m headed.

As the sun rises again, I swear it shines brighter. The birds' chirping sounds chippier. The morning brings with it a new light that I never thought I’d understand, thanks to all the romance novels I've read and movies I've watched.

“Do you think she knows?” I whisper, hearing Rita down in the kitchen making breakfast. We weren’t quiet during the night, and she had spent the night because another huge storm blew in after dinner.

“Not likely,” Shaw croons as, once again, he licks along the column of my throat. Something he does a lot. Kissing down my chest, licking along my quivering belly. He spreads my thighs and blows cool air against the folds of my sex.

“Shaw,” I purr, arching my back.

“Just enjoy the ride, baby.” And enjoy, I do.

He’s gentle yet greedy while kissing, licking, and sucking at me. Devouring my core like a starved man. I brush my hands through his thick dark hair and hold him tightly to me, never wanting him to move from this spot.

Closing my eyes, I feel my core preparing for release again. My pulse pounds, ready to leap out of my veins, and my heart doesn’t know whether to beat or not. I’m getting light-headed, so I know I’m about to orgasm again. Shaw’s kept me on the edge and enjoyed tossing me over all night long. I’m not sure how much more I can handle before I pass out completely.

“Shaw, please.” What am I even begging him for? I don’t want him to stop, but continuing on is nearly painful.

“Since you asked so nicely.” I can picture his wolfish grin as he moves over my body while the head of his cock slowly breaches my welcoming channel.

It’s a slow build-up to the finish line for both of us as his arms wrap around my back and mine around his neck. We hold each other close, breathing the same breath, eyes maintaining contact, and when our bodies can’t possibly take another stroke, he slows down, and we start all over again.

“Loving you is the best decision I’ve never had the pleasure of making,” he murmurs against my lips, and I smile at the fake grumbly tone as our climax reaches its peak, and we fall over the edge together silently.

Neither of us has a moment to catch our breath as Shaw drags me from the bed to the shower. The heat of the water on my skin relaxes and welcomes me while he lathers shampoo into my hair. I’ve learned to leave him alone when he does this because he genuinely enjoys pampering me.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully. “We have not used a condom once.” I blush because even with the amount of lovemaking we’ve engaged in, I’m still not comfortable talking about it. “You could be pregnant.” I peer up at him through my lashes. He doesn’t seem displeased with the idea.

“I could,” I respond softly, shyly, then turn away to rinse the suds from my hair. I haven’t given children that much thought, so I’m not sure how to react myself, let alone how I want him to.

“Would you be angry?” Even with the scalding shower heat, I feel his natural warmth when he steps up to my back.

I’m not sure what he wants to hear, so I’m just honest. “You know I want to be a mom, so…” I still can’t believe I confessed that so easily.

His arms wrap around my belly, and I’m shook. “Now, you can embrace the idea.” His supportive words force me to think about it right now. More like, tells me my life is my own from here on out, and I can dream of anything that brings me joy.

Turning into his chest, I rub my hands along his muscular frame and look him in the eyes. “Can I?” I’m not sure what I’m asking of him, or if I’m even asking anything at all. However, uncertainty has been my close companion, and out of everyone in my life, Shaw seems to understand that more than anyone else ever has.

“Yeah, baby.” He brushes the damp hair off my face. “You can dream of anything you want now. Anything at all.”

His words overwhelm me with relief because, even though I hadn't realized it, that is indeed what I need to hear from him. Being free to make my own decisions is what I’ve always wanted and never been granted.

Shaw is my first choice. No questions. If he allows it, I’ll stay here with him forever.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

SHAW

The doorbell rings, and Rita is in the kitchen cooking up some sort of breakfast feast, so I leave Monroe to answer it without making love to her again. Talk about hard as hell. Opening the door unprepared is even worse.

“You son of a…”

Bang!

A raging inferno blazes through my side, and I hit the ground with a loud thud. Stunned, I’m slow to react as the man steps over me and heads upstairs.

To Monroe.

“Shaw!” I hear Rita’s horrified gasp as she rushes over, phone in one hand, gun in the other.

I reach for the weapon while she talks on the phone but struggle to stand. Instead, I holler, “Monroe!” warning her, even though she must have heard the shot.

Home invasion wasn’t something I prepared her for.

“Don’t move,” Rita scolds.

“Help me up,” I demand, ignoring her. The asshole couldn’t aim a gun to save his fucking life. He hit my side, thankfully missing vital organs. But no matter where you’re shot, it’s always shocking. And painful as fucking hell.

“Monroe!” I yell her name again. Hearing no response could mean she’s hiding, or it could mean Alton has her. Either scenario will earn him a bullet.

“Rita!” I bark her name; she looks shell-shocked. “Go to my office. Lock the door. Don’t come out until I sound the all-clear.” She nods and scurries off.

“Alton, you son of a bitch.” I ignore the burning in my side; Monroe needs me. Yelling out should distract him and hopefully keep her safe.

“She’s mine!” the creep shouts back while I slowly walk up the stairs. His voice booms from the hallway leading to the guest bedroom where her things are. At the opposite end of where Monroe would be. A good sign.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I dart a quick look around the corner leading to our room and see Monroe’s head peek out. Relief eases the constriction in my chest as I wave her back. Her eyes are wide and terrified, filling with tears as she notices the blood I feel leaking from my side, but she nods and goes back into hiding.

I take a deep breath, knowing my girl is out of harm's way, and concentrate on Alton. Leading with my gun, I stealthily make my way down the hall to the guest room. Approaching the doorway, I can hear the bastard rifling through her belongings, muttering unintelligibly to himself.

“Alton, if you don’t drop your weapon, this only ends one way.” I barely finish speaking when more gunshots ring out, hitting the wall across the hall.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Monroe open the door a bit again. Shaking my head, I wave her back. She’s horrified, and all I want to do is reassure her, but that’s not possible until Alton is stopped, one way or another.

Crouching low, I realize this won’t end peacefully.

“Come on, Alton, drop the gun.” He fires again as expected.

I count to thirty before darting a quick look through the open doorway. He’s facing the bed where he’s scattered Monroe’s clothes.

Whistling to get his attention, I take aim and fire at his gun arm as he spins, not wanting to snuff out the man’s life unnecessarily. The mental ramifications afterward are never easy to deal with, so this is an alternate solution to corral him. Sirens drown out his pained howl as they get closer.

Standing, I grab the leotards lying on the bed and roll Alton to his belly as he bitches and moans. “You shot me!”

“You shot me first, asshole.” Hogtied, I leave him on the floor after grabbing his weapon and nearly get tackled by Monroe as she slams into me, her arms wrapping tightly around my waist. “Shit,” I hiss from the pain of my wound.

“Sorry,” she mumbles into my chest but doesn’t let go. Can’t say I mind too much. “I can’t believe he shot you.” Her words are tear-filled as the sheriff rushes through the open front door, followed by Draven and Nina.

“Damn, Shaw.” Draven shakes his head, coming up the stairs to help me down.

“He grazed me when I opened the door,” I mutter.

“Grazed, my ass.” He rolls his eyes.

“Will Shaw be alright?” Monroe worriedly asks, following us out to the ambulance I hadn’t realized was here.

Reaching out a hand for her after being helped onto the gurney, I pull her up with me, ignoring the medics’ protests and my own pain. “I’m fine, darlin’. Just a graze.” I narrow my eyes at Draven when he opens his mouth to dispute me.

As the medics inspect my wound, I watch the sheriff bring Alton out in cuffs and escort him to the back of his cruiser, likely waiting for another ambulance.

After the prick's secured, the sheriff strides over to Monroe and me. “A deputy will be along to the hospital in a little bit to take your statements.” I lift my hand slightly in response because I was given something for pain and can barely hold up my head.

Draven walks off with the sheriff, and I watch them until Monroe touches my face, turning me to look at her.

“I love you, Shaw Remington, but if you ever get shot for me again, I’m going to kick you.” Her threat is adorable, but all I can do is nod.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

MONROE

A Few Weeks Later.

Wringing my hands roughly, I stare at the cute Tudor house with its bright white fence and perfectly placed tulips.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I mutter to Shaw, who stands next to me.

“We can leave if you want.” He’s always so supportive. Sometimes too much so.

I need to do this. Confront my past in order to move on with my future. That's how things played out in Los Angeles last week.

My mother was arrested in conspiracy with Alton, and because she spent all the money I earned throughout my lifetime, she can’t even beg me to bail her out. Her stealing from me is expected after everything she’s done. I’m more upset with how other things turned out. Even Claire, my agent of so many years, knew about everything that was going on, so she was charged with conspiracy as well.

“I’d be a chicken to leave now.”

I don’t remember my father. I didn’t even know his name until Nina and Draven handed me the positive DNA results a few days ago.

Marcus Riley. He’s forty-seven, a contractor, and remarried ten years ago. No children, though. After what my mother did, I can’t say I’d blame him if he were afraid to.

“What’s her name again?” I can’t seem to focus too much on his wife.

“Allison. She’s a nurse.” He’s said this to me at least five times in the last hour, but the information hasn’t stuck.

Turning to face Shaw, I see him watching me with the same loving expression he always has for me. “You sure you're up for this?” I ask.

The bullet wound wasn’t nearly as bad as my brain made it out to be. He received a tetanus shot, a dozen stitches, some antibiotics, and was given a clean bill of health. After a couple of hours, we were on our way back home. It doesn’t stop me from worrying about him, though. Nothing will.

“Darlin’, I’m fine.” He leans down to kiss me sweetly, and that’s when I hear the front door open and laughter from the couple inside.

“Oh God,” I mutter, pulling away. I’m not ready yet. I need a few more minutes to internalize my irrationality.

“Hello!” The woman—Allison, my stepmother—greets us with a big smile and a friendly wave. “Can we help you?” Even though she’s the one talking, my eyes fix on my father, who appears as stunned as I am.

Shaw places a hand on my back and guides me forward towards the couple. “Hi there. I’m Shaw Remington, and this is–” He’s interrupted before he introduces me.

“Monroe Kingsley,” my father finishes. His eyes fill with tears as he slowly shuffles forward, astonished.

“This is…” Allison is as genuinely surprised as he is. “Oh my.”

“Hi.” I give a little wave and stop moving forward because I don’t know what else to say. I had this entire encounter planned out in my head, and I can’t recall any of it now. I don’t know what to say, ask, or do. Nothing.

Here is this man who’s been a complete mystery my entire life, and I’ve had hundreds, if not thousands, of questions to ask him. But now, I can’t think of a single one.

His hand reaches up when he stops in front of me, but he halts further movement as he says, “You changed your hair.”

Feeling self-conscious, I smooth my hand down the locks. “The blonde was dyed, and I always hated it.”

“Helen–” He stops himself with a self-deprecating smile, trying not to hurt my feelings. Little does he know that he can’t when it comes to her.

“I know. Mom hated the dark color.” Awkward silence ensues.

“Well, we were about to go to lunch, but eating in might be better suited. Are either of you hungry?” Allison asks as she grabs Marcus’ hand in both of hers.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Shaw replies. “The flight was short, and Monroe has been filled with nerves all week. Not eating the way she should be.” He scowls down at me over that last bit, and my face flushes. I missed my period last week, and he’s positive I’m pregnant. I think it’s the stress.

“Well, come on in, then. I’ll get some coffee started and throw one of my frozen lasagnas in the oven.” Allison is so welcoming and accommodating; I can’t help but feel wanted. A first for me in so many years.

Reaching out for my hand, Allison pulls me along beside her, chattering about the weather, but as soon as we enter their home, I’m stopped short by a photo hanging on the wall at the stairs.

It’s of me, when I won my first Little Miss pageant. At a time when I truly enjoyed strutting across the stage, showing off my ballet skills, and smiling until my cheeks hurt.

A strong hand pulls me from the image. I turn my head to see my father standing next to me, tears in his eyes, emotion written plain as day across his face. My own sob breaks free as I throw myself into his arms.

“Ssshh, Monroe, it’s alright now. I’m here, and God willing, I’m not going anywhere.”

I bob my head against his chest because my throat is too tight to utter any words.

“It might help,” I hear Shaw say, “if you could explain to her what happened.”

Lord, I love this man. He knows I’ve spent my whole life wondering why I wasn’t good enough. I need to find out why my father left me with that evil wench.

“Of course!” Placing his hands on my shoulders, my father pushes back slightly. “Go sit down, and I’ll be right back.” I nod as he takes the stairs two at a time, turning down the hallway.

“Come here, baby.” I melt into Shaw’s arms as he holds me tight.

We slowly walk into the living room, and I’m even more amazed by all the articles about different pageants I either won or attended. There’s even one framed over the fireplace from winning Miss California.

“I can’t believe they have all of these,” I whisper.

“Marc was always so eager to talk about you. To anyone who would listen. He hated that you were in the spotlight so often but was also grateful because, in a way, he was able to watch you grow up.” Allison’s soft voice brings more tears to my eyes as she sets a tray of coffee on the table.

“When I first met your father, he was so lost in grief over losing you. He didn’t realize that not only could he still have a life, but one day, the two of you could find your way back to each other.” It’s very clear how much she loves my father, and I’m so grateful he was able to find that.

“I don’t have any memories of him. I was so young when he left. My mother never spoke about him, and when she did, it was always so nasty.” I still remember her hatred towards the man I never had a chance to know. “It took me a long time to realize that what she felt and said were because of her own resentments.”

Sitting next to me, Allison grips my hands in hers. “Hear him out. Let him tell you his version of events. He loves you so much, Monroe. Only one other time have I seen him grin the way he just did when he saw you, and that was the day we married.”

I smile at her kind words as my father walks into the room with a box in his hands and a dreamy look on his face.

Blowing out a deep breath, he sits in a recliner and places the box at his feet. “I’ve heard on the news some of what’s happened to you in the past few months, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there to protect you. I’ve wanted to be, but I had no idea how. I also didn’t want to cause more problems for you. I know your mother has betrayed you in some of the worst ways, and had I known it was so bad, I would have fought harder to get you back.”

“What do you mean?”

I listen with a breaking heart as he explains how my mother ran away from him with me in the middle of the night and made it so he could never claim me as his by leaving his name blank on the birth certificate.

For years, he battled in the courts for any form of custody of me, and each time, the outcome left him distraught. After every attempt, we would move to another state, and he’d try again. Ultimately failing until his health was affected, and he eventually had to stop.

I hold no ill will towards my dad and Allison, and after talking about how difficult things were for him when he lost me, I realize I never did. Sure, I was constantly curious and upset by his lack of presence, but I knew in my soul that my mother was lying to me all those years. Now, I’ll only look at this time as a chance to look forward to our futures. We can embrace our new relationship with open hearts and arms and heal together.

In a way, I’m glad my mother betrayed me. She brought me to my cowboy bodyguard, who, in turn, gave me the family I’d always longed for.

Epilogue One

SHAW

One Year Later.

“Mooooooo.”

I swear that fucking cow is going to drive me to drink. If my wife didn’t love her so damn much, I’d sell her for beef and be done with her.

That’s a lie I keep telling myself.

Marilyn the cow is eccentric and loving. A beast who was dealt a shitty hand and will likely haunt my dreams long after she dies of old age in my damn backyard.

“Mooooooo.”

Rolling my eyes, I turn in my office chair to see what’s up her ass today, only to find my wife on the ground.

“Son of a bitch!” I rush out of the room, startling Rita, Marcus, and Allison as I go. “Monroe!” I yell her name as I clear the porch doors, and she waves her hand at me like it’s nothing. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Shaw,” she pants.

“You sure as hell aren’t.” I drop beside her. Sweat beads her brow, and her hands cover her belly.

“I think…I might…be in labor.” She breathes arduously through each statement.

My mind blanks for a split second before refocusing. “How many minutes apart?”

“How many minutes between moos?” She’s got jokes.

“Maybe two.”

“Then that many. Ohhhhh…” Her body damn near folds in half with the next contraction.

“Moooooo.” Marilyn experiences it with her, and suddenly, I have a completely new appreciation for the damn beast.

“Is it time?” Marcus asks from behind me, and I confirm. “Then, let’s get her inside.”

How does that man stay so fucking calm?

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Allison encourages as she and Rita join us.

“She means you, darlin’.” At that jab, Monroe glares daggers at me. “Right. I’ll just shut up.” As we help her inside, I hear Rita on the phone with the paramedics. Her contractions are so close, and we’re too far from a hospital for me to drive her. “Over here,” I suggest. After helping Monroe onto the couch, I crouch beside her. “What do you need me to do?”

We took Lamaze classes, and I’ve birthed plenty of livestock before. Hell, I’ve battled in war. But when it comes to the birth of our first child, I haven’t the faintest idea how to make it easier on Monroe. The first time I believed she was pregnant, she was right; she was late due to all the stress at that time. When a test finally came back positive a couple of months later, I might have become even more protective of the love of my life.

“Shaw,” Allison’s stern voice calls my name. Thankfully, she's a maternity nurse and knows what to do. “Sit up behind Monroe. Help her breathe and keep her comfortable.”

I nod and do as she says.

The baby was supposed to be here three days ago, and Monroe was scheduled to be induced tomorrow morning. Guess our little one decided to throw a wrench in the plans.

With the Marilyn Foundation set to open in three months, her parents have moved to their own slice of the Crazy Mountains, Montana, and my parents are coming next month. They’ve decided to make my dream into a family affair.

At this moment, I don’t mind one single bit.

I watch while Rita and Allison help Monroe remove her clothes and change into a long nightgown while Marcus continues to talk to paramedics. The contractions grow closer together, and before I know it, Allison tells us the head is crowning.

Monroe screams.

Marilyn moos.

“You got this, darlin’. You are so fucking strong.” I watch in awe as my wife brings a miracle into this world, with a full head of dark hair, healthy lungs, and endearing perfection.

Monroe

The sun set hours ago. Shaw is asleep in the recliner next to my bed, and our sweet, sweet little boy is suckling at my breast.

I should be exhausted, but I’m wide awake. Thrilled to have my intimate little family right here beside me.

I should be in pain, but I feel as though I’m floating on air.

My heart is in this room, and I’ve never experienced anything closer to nirvana.

Minutes after Allison delivered our son, the paramedics arrived to help with the placenta and to clean me up before transporting us to the hospital.

On the way here, we decided on a name—Marcus Callan Remington. And when we told my parents, they cried, never expecting us to name our son after mine and Shaw’s fathers.

The last year has been an emotional rollercoaster, filled with highs and lows I never thought I’d experience again. My mother and Claire were given probation for their part in my stalking, and Mother has been ordered to pay back the money she stole, though I don’t see that happening and couldn’t care less about it. Alton was given a couple of years for deadly intent, and more secrets than were dug up at the Alamo were brought to light throughout the many court hearings. Yet through it all, Shaw and I got married, began renovations on the ranch for the Marilyn Foundation, and started the family we’ve both been privately wanting since the day I showed up.

My life had always been one pageant after another. One strut after another across the stage until my feet hurt and my smile dimmed. My first real choice came the day I met Shaw, and I haven’t regretted it for one second.

Feeling little Marcus unlatching from my breast, I sit him up to burp him, only for Shaw’s masculine hands to take him from me.

“Let me.” He leans down to kiss me before laying the baby across his shoulder, gently rubbing and patting his back. Never in my wildest dreams have I seen a sexier sight. Watching how tender Shaw is with our son reignites my baby fever, and we’ve only had this precious one for a few hours.

I relax against the pillows behind me, close my eyes for the first time today, and listen to my husband softly sing. Shaw and baby Marcus have consumed my entire heart and soul, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You’re perfect, just like your momma.”

Shaw’s words follow me into slumber, filled with dreams of the future and nothing but happiness on the horizon.

Epilogue Two

MONROE

Eight Years Later.

“That’s it, Julia, keep going!”

I clap in amazement as one of our clients learns to overcome her fears, galloping on top of one of our gentlest horses, confident enough to maintain control. Julia is fourteen now and has been coming here since she was nine. She’s a mass shooting survivor, and over the years we’ve watched her heal and blossom into the young woman she is now.

“I’m doing it!” She smiles so big, I imagine her cheeks will hurt later.

“We can’t thank you enough, Monroe.” Her mom, Ashley, grips my hand as we stand side by side at the fence. “This place was the blessing we all needed.”

At first, Julia was the only one partaking of our services, but eventually I convinced the entire family that we were here for all of them, and they’ve been coming once a month ever since.

“Ash, she’s doing the work, not us. You’ve all been amazing, and we’ll be so sad not to see you anymore.” They’re moving to Europe for Julia’s father's work, but we were lucky enough to find another organization for them like the Marilyn Foundation. “I’m so glad we could master one more thing for her before you guys leave, though.” We share a laugh at Julia’s carefree riding now, and the girl’s own laughter.

“Momma, look!” My youngest, Cheyenne, sits near the painting wall with a few children, all around her age of four, and one of the shyest boys, who has not wanted to participate or speak to anyone, sits next to her while she mixes paints.

“Excuse me,” I say.

Ashley nods, and I hop over the fence to join the kids painting on one of the walls. Hands down, it was our best idea, being one of the most utilized spaces among the younger kids and often where you’ll find our most experienced counselor as well.

“What are we painting today?” I drop to my knees next to Cheyenne as she hands the boy a paintbrush.

“Well, Parker’s mom said he likes dinosaurs, so I thought I’d draw a T-Rex, and he could color it in.” Her beaming smile reminds me so much of her father’s.

“That sounds like a lovely idea, sweetheart. Do either of you need anything?”

Parker hides his face in Cheyenne’s shoulder, and she shakes her head. He’s relatively new here, having been diagnosed with autism about a year earlier, and his parents were struggling to communicate with him while learning about the disability.

Standing up, I watch them for a few minutes before I hear my two boys, Marcus and Cody, over in the pig pen, likely trying to wrangle one of the big boys. Before I take a step, however, my husband wraps his arms around me from behind and drags me into a side office before closing the door.

“Missed you, darlin’.” Shaw doesn’t hesitate to pick me up and pin me against the door. My arms and legs clasp around him without thought or direction.

“Mmm, I’m here now, husband.” He loves when I call him that. “Did everything go okay in California?”

Shaw and my father went to the state I called home for so long to settle my mother’s affairs after her recent passing. I haven’t spoken to her since that day in court so many years ago, and after a lot of therapy, I’ve been able to forgive her for her part in my torment and abuse; however, having a relationship with her again was not going to happen. I’m at peace with her death, and when my husband offered to take my place, I was grateful.

“Good. She has a nice plot in Hollywood, just where she’d like. Marcus chose a simple headstone and has arranged for flowers to be delivered on her birthday and death day each year until you say so.” Shocked, I can’t believe he would do that. Shaw reads my mind. “He said in case you ever decide to go, he wants it to look nice for you.”

“I’m so lucky to have him again.” Allison too. They’re the most wonderful parents and grandparents.

Nipping my neck, he kisses up to my jaw and murmurs, “What about me?” His tone is heated, and I know exactly what we both need.

“Mmm…yes, you, too. Most of all, you and the life you gave us.”

I hike up my dress; Shaw unbuckles his jeans, then slides my panties to the side, slowly entering my body and feeding our craving for each other the way he always does.

“Fuck, I missed this.” He was gone for two nights, but his need for me is unmatched, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “You ready for another?” he asks. I freeze because I thought we agreed to no more. Clearly, I’m wrong. “I miss you all round and ravenous, darlin’. You’re beautiful anyway you are, but there’s something special about seeing what I can do to you.”

Laughing, I lean forward, nibble on his jaw, and whisper in his ear, “Get me pregnant again, Shaw. I’d love another little girl.” Our kids are perfect and unique in their own ways, but I’d never say no to having more when it means I get more of him.

“Anything my wife asks for,” he groans in my ear.

This time is quick, hot, and everything he needed after being away, but tonight will likely be a sleepless night, which means the children’ll go to the grandparents. We’re so lucky to have so much love and family close by.

“I love you, Monroe, I hope you know that.” He presses his lips to mine, and before I can respond, we hear Marilyn belting out a song of her own, knowing what’s about to come. “Looks like it’s her turn.” He laughs, and we rush to fix our clothes before heading outside to find Marilyn wandering to her stable, where she’s about to give birth.

Four years ago, we heard about a bull who had been the sole survivor of a devastating fire that wiped out the farm and animals. The owner decided to sell him and move to Florida to be closer to his kids, and we lucked out getting Clyde, who immediately bonded with Marilyn.

Though she did ignore him for the first year.

Now they’re having their second calf together, and we couldn’t be happier.

“Kane, keep everyone away until she’s given birth,” I tell the man who has been here as long as Shaw. He does as requested so I can help Shaw with our girl.

Clyde watches from a distance but doesn’t take his eyes off Marilyn until he sees the calf slide out with ease. Mari is a natural at this.

“She’s just like you, darlin’, born to be a mother.”

Standing back, we watch as Mari cleans the new baby up before trotting over to me for a few head scratches. She and I are as close as ever, especially since we were pregnant together with Cheyenne and her first baby.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper into her head. “Life here is perfect.”

The End!

About the Author

KL Donn is a USA Today Bestselling Author addicted to coffee and tacos. As a Canadian author she writes in multiple romance genres and isn't afraid of a new challenge. She brings you stories that will break your heart and heal it all in one breath. With over 60 published titles since 2015, she has many more planned for the future and enjoys connecting with readers.

On her off time, she's bingeing Supernatural, Grey's Anatomy, and raising 4 amazing children. Married for more than half her life, she experienced her own happily ever after with husband Steve, at just 17. You'll find them both at book signings once or twice a year, she's the shy one, he's there to tell you all about the books his wife writes and how proud he is of her.

Currently she is diving back into the Adair Empire world with the children and has plans to keep the series going with generations of dark stories to come.

Krystal loves connecting with readers so please feel free to get in touch with her at any of the platforms below:

KL’s Deviant Readers | Facebook | Instagram

Or follow her releases on:

BookBub | Goodreads | Newsletter

Also by KL Donn

Series in Progress

Don’t Blame Me

From Strangers to Lovers | From Stalker to Lovers | From Stolen to Lovers

Kings of the Underworld

Obsess | Protector | Obey | Predator | Monster | Primal | Own | Power | Purity | Outlier | Prey

Bad Men Possessing Good Girls

STFUATTDLAGG | LHWYTTC | BAGGACOTD | BMBACLADG | TMATWDLAGG | TTDD

Kings of Anarchy MC: Mississippi

Property of Brute & Axl | Property of Viking & Priest | Property of Swamp & Easy | Property of Demon & Izzy | Property of Free & Miami

Saint’s Outlaws MC: Ruby, AB

Law’s Addiction | Tyrant’s Obsession | Jury’s Possession | Nightmare’s Protection | Psycho’s Domination | Brewer’s Torment

Christmas with the Marcello Kingpins

Stocking the Kingpin | Wrapped for the Kingpin | Sugar’s Christmas Kingpin

Adair Legacy

Broken Princess | Tortured Duchess | Killer Prince | Delicate Dame | Dark Knight | Vengeful Pawn | Vicious Saint | Damaged Bishop | Forbidden Temptress | Beautiful Devil

Coming as the Muse Strikes

Damaged Love Series

Unraveling Love | Broken Love | Fractured Love | Tarnished Love

Task Force 779

Missing in Action | Explosive Encounter | Nowhere To Run | Dangerous Affair | Safe Keeping

Neighbor Novels

Possessive Neighbor | Reclusive Neighbor | Innocent Neighbor

Power of Vashchenko

Taking Emmaline | Protecting Scarlett | Claiming Madelyn

Completed Series

Claimed at Christmas

Last Chance Love | Viking’s Naughty Elf

Blue Collar Daddies

Big Daddy | Mack Daddy | Bad Daddy | Fake Daddy | 4ever Daddy

Adair Empire

King | Luther | Castiel | Atticus | Carver | Trinity

The Odessa Organization

Anton | Vasyl | Petro | Forgive My Sins | The Sweetest Agony

Decker Brothers Duet

Wanted | Time Bomb

King of Her Heart

His Kingdom | His Jailbird | His Fight | His Solace | His Protection | His Wicked Obsession

Uncontrolled Heroes

A Girl Worth Fighting For | The Girl Who was Meant to be Mine | Loving the Girl in the Tutu

Daniels Family

Until Arsen | With Kol | Before Noah | Dreaming of California

Those Malcolm Boys

Obsessive Addiction | Accidental Obsession | Arrogantly Obsessed

Timeless Love

Once Upon A Time | Happily Ever After

In His Arms Series

Safe, In His Arms | Bullied, In His Arms | Coached, In His Arms

Naughty Tales

Dirty | Treat Me | Snowed In

Love Letters

Dear Killian | Dear Gage | Dear Maverick | Dear Desmond | Dear Lena | Dear Steele

Stand Alone Books

Holding Out For A Hero | Love Comes After | Saving Their Princess | London’s Calling | Holly’s Knight | Dear, Soldier of Mine | Cage & Magnolia | Little Girl | Room Twenty-Eight | Snow Me A Favor | Ravaged & Bred | Untouchable | Three Reasons | Protecting Player #73 | Dear Lover | Cowboy Bodyguard

Books in KU | Free Books | Boxsets

Audio Books

Are you a listener rather than a reader?

Check out these Audio books now, with more coming soon!

Wanted

Time Bomb

Unraveling Love

Holding Out For A Hero