His to Protect: A Fireside Novel (7 page)

“I haven’t worked this hard for years.” She grunted as she lifted a chair. I ditched my own table to help her when I saw the exhaustion in her limbs.

“What’d you do before?”

I let the question casually slip out and continued to flip chairs onto tables, waiting for her to answer. I acted like it didn’t matter if she answered me, although for some reason it did—I actually
wanted
to get to know her.

“Public relations and marketing,” she finally said.

I froze, chair halfway to the table, and looked at her.

She did that bottom-lip-chewing thing and turned away.

“Did you like it?”

“I guess. I mean, yeah, I enjoyed my job, I just never really wanted to work for a living.”

The thought made me scowl, which I tried to hide. Mara had always said the same thing. She wanted to be a stay-at-home wife. The hard labor of the restaurant was too much for her.

The life we’d talked about starting was too much for her.

I closed those thoughts down. There was no point in comparing the two women. Already Trina had shown herself to be a harder worker than Mara ever was.

“Why did you quit?”

“My husband thought my time was better spent at home,” she finally mumbled after another strained silence.

This time when I looked at her, she didn’t seem worried or fearful, just sad.

An ache pinched my chest and I forgot about the next chair I was reaching for.

I walked toward her slowly, giving her time to know I was coming closer. When I reached her, I placed my hand on her shoulder.

Warmth spread from my palm on her skin all the way up my arm to my chest, forcing me to take a breath.

She tightened her shoulders, but didn’t pull away.

“I might not know specifics, Trina, but I think you walking away, you making this choice for yourself to be safe, is quite possibly one of the strongest fucking things I’ve ever seen a woman do. You should be proud of yourself.”

She chuckled softly and shook her head. “Thanks, Declan.”

I squeezed her shoulder once and dropped my hand before I did something stupid. Like run my fingertips down the inside of her arm, touching her soft skin until I could feel her pulse racing at her wrist.

Or leaning in and brushing my lips against her cheek, where the bruise was just barely visible through her makeup.

“We should head home,” I said, hearing the gruffness in my voice.

It couldn’t be hidden. I had just gotten turned on by touching her through the fabric of her shirt. My body reacted like I was a teenager who couldn’t keep his pants zipped.

Whatever was happening with me needed to be shut down.

Immediately.

“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head as if she were clearing a haze. “Boomer probably needs to eat.”

“I bought him food this morning,” I told her as we headed out of the dining area and back to the kitchen. The lights were off over the grill, which told me Javier was long gone now.

“You did?”

The surprise in her voice made me turn to look at her. “Dog needed to eat, Trina. What’d you think I fed him?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Eggs?”

My lip curled as I bit back a laugh. “Not sure I want to be cleaning up egg vomit.”

“You’re probably right.” She walked up to me, and this time she reached for my hand. Her petite fingers curled around mine and she squeezed once before letting go. “Thank you. You’ve been really kind and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

I licked my lips, dropping my gaze to her plump and perfect ones. I could definitely think of a way she could make it up to me.

Asshole.

“Don’t mention it.” I turned around and walked to my office, where I made quick work of shutting down the computer, grabbing her purse, and turning out the lights. When I met her at the back door, uncertainty flickered in her eyes as she glanced away from me. Her cheeks were pinker than they should have been and I had to bite back a groan.

And I knew in that moment that the trouble of having Trina around just got a hell of a lot worse.

Because I wasn’t only attracted to this woman, physically…

I actually liked her. Wanted her.

She was quite possibly the worst thing I could want right now.

But I also recognized, as the corners of her lips turned into a soft smile and she looked at me as if I were the only one who could keep her safe, that while she might be wrong…

She was also right.

I didn’t want to just keep her safe from her asshole husband.

I wanted to make sure no one hurt this beautiful and kind woman ever again.

I should have returned home from the Arizona Spa three days ago. If Kevin didn’t know I was gone before, he certainly knew now.

My stress levels were through the roof, and as each day went by, I found myself looking over my shoulder more often, becoming jumpier at every small sound.

I searched the Internet repeatedly to see if there was any mention of my name or his. I knew that if he suspected I’d left him, he would have kept it from the media, but the fact that he wasn’t in the media at all made me more nervous than not. It was only a year before the presidential election. Presidential hopefuls were campaigning, traveling the country and attending state fairs all over the Midwest. While candidates didn’t generally come to Kentucky’s state fair, we got a fair share of conservatives trying to push their agendas and slogans and basic political fodder down our throats at this time of year.

Kevin was usually swamped, attending press conferences and meetings, as well as rallies and dinners.

That I hadn’t seen him in photos from any of them concerned me.

It had also been three days since I started working and helping Declan at Fireside Grill. The work was often mind-numbing, but I found my body sore in that good, hardworking kind of way when we left the restaurant after closing up.

Sometimes I helped him with his computer system, and not only did I figure out his payroll system, I simplified the process and made it more user-friendly. I also spent time getting Declan caught up on all of his filing and accounting for the quarter.

I planned on tackling his filing system, because trying to slide receipts and invoices into his current system—which lacked any true organization—almost caused more than one migraine.

Sometimes he called me out of his office and had me work a few tables. Sometimes I helped the bartender on busier nights, even though I could only help with bottles and drawing drafts. Other times, I worked at the hostess station. Emily was still out, spending time with her sister, who had not only delivered three weeks early, but had had a complicated delivery. Emily wanted to spend as much time with her sister and new niece as possible. Declan told her to take her time and be with her family, and that I would help him out in the meantime.

I didn’t truly believe he needed me at all, but the fact that he was giving me jobs where I could pocket cash was wonderful.

Surrounded by people who had no idea who I was, what my past was like, or what I was running from, I was beginning to relish living without constantly wondering if every move I made was being judged or criticized.

But at all times, in the back of my mind, was the niggling whisper warning me that I needed to leave soon. Unfortunately, every day I spent at Fireside, around Declan, not to mention his friendly staff and even friendlier—and generous—customers, I listened to that voice less and less.

It wasn’t possible for me to stay in Latham Hills forever.

It was probably the worst idea ever.

Yet I hadn’t been able to bring myself to leave, either.

“You going to be okay here, on your own?”

I was sitting on the couch and the question startled me. I jumped.

I twisted around to face the stairway Declan had just descended, and I watched as he twirled his key ring around his thumb. Next to me, Boomer’s head jolted up. He sniffed and then began panting before he leapt to his feet and trudged over to Declan.

Not only was I not excited about leaving anytime soon, I suspected Declan had been providing Boomer with a plethora of treats over the last few days. Every time he entered the room, Boomer was right there at his feet, sitting patiently in a way that was rare for him.

Perhaps leaving the stress of our home had been good for him, too.

I ignored the way this made my chest feel warm and tingly and nodded. “I’m just going to take Boomer for a walk and then chill out here. Get caught up on my television.”

At Declan’s insistence, I wasn’t going in to Fireside today. He demanded I put my feet up and rest. After years of having no one care about me or my needs, I decided to ignore the warm tingle that sent to my chest, too. Declan was becoming dangerous for me, for reasons antithetical to the reasons Kevin was.

My lips twitched as I watched Declan scowl. “I don’t like the idea of you out walking by yourself.”

“It’s not even dark out.” It was only three in the afternoon and night wouldn’t fall for hours. I would have thought that after being controlled for so long by Kevin, this over-protectiveness would bother me.

Yet, with his concern, that silly warmth suffused my blood and made it pump a little faster.

“You’ve got the phone numbers for Fireside, right? And my cell?”

“Yes.” I waved him away with a quiet laugh. “Go to work, Declan. We’ll be fine.”

His lips pressed together as we stared at each other, neither one willing to back down, before I finally saw the fight leave him.

“Fine.” His shoulders dropped and he reached for a North Face jacket. “But call me if you need anything. Or if something happens.”

“I will. Promise.”

I wouldn’t, but the small lie seemed to make him feel better. With a quick brush against the top of Boomer’s head and a command for him to take care of his mama, Declan gave me a quick wave goodbye and headed out the door.

Once he was gone, Boomer let out a sad, high-pitched whine.

“Come here, boy,” I said and slowly got to my feet. I’d been sitting on the couch reading a book for the last few hours and my legs were cramped from the position. “Let’s go for that walk.”

“Woof!” His tail thumped against the floor and he began jumping against the front door.

With another quiet laugh, I grabbed Boomer’s leash, slipped on my shoes, and headed out for a quiet walk in the brisk afternoon air.

It surprised me how fast fall hit in Michigan. In Kentucky, the weather stayed in the eighties through most of September, sometimes into October. But the temperatures had been in the low seventies, and last night I heard on the news that the leaves of the trees would be changing their colors soon. It seemed as if everything weather-related here happened a few weeks earlier than I was used to.

“C’mon, Boomer.” I tugged on his leash, getting him next to my right hip where he generally walked with ease, and we headed out. We walked for almost an hour, while I kept track of streets and turns so I could find my way back to Declan’s without any problems. The last thing I wanted to do was get lost. When we returned to Declan’s house, my limbs ached with the immediate aftereffects of a decent workout.

My shirt stuck to my back, slightly damp from sweat, and while I chugged a bottle of water, I watched Boomer lick his water up from his bowl as if his very life depended on it.

“Woof!”

I laughed softly. Drool dripped from his jowls, making me crinkle my nose. “Gross,” I muttered and patted him on the head. “I’m going to head up and take a bath. You take care of the house while I’m gone. Deal?”

“Woof!”

I was curled on the couch, in what had become my standard position, resting against the right armrest. Next to me was a plate of nachos I’d nuked in the microwave and a glass of red wine.

My body was slightly tender from the workout, yet relaxed from the combination of the long bubble bath and the wine I’d been sipping while I flipped through channels.

As I was flicking through the numerous sports stations, my finger paused on the channel button when I saw a familiar football stadium.

The University of Kentucky’s Commonwealth Stadium was on the screen, shown in all its beautiful glory.

I wasn’t raised to be a football fan, but somewhere along the way, as happens to most people born and bred in Kentucky, a love for the Wildcats got into my blood. It was in part because that’s where I went to college—to my mother’s chagrin, because she attended the University of Louisville, Kentucky’s greatest rival. That was how my family started our playful football rivalry.

It might also have been because those were the last pure, good, happy memories I had of my mother and father, before he passed and my heart began to ache.

My college years were the last years of my life when I felt free, and as I stared at the television screen, watching the game between the Wildcats and the South Carolina Gamecocks begin, I let the roar of the crowd in a stadium that seated almost seventy thousand crazed fans seep into my soul. Memories of a life when I was carefree and full of joy came rushing back.

Like sorority rush week.

That first week of classes as a freshman, when the campus felt too large, and I walked around feeling more lost than ever. Yet it hadn’t taken long for that campus, and the dorm room that I shared with a girl named Rachel Evans—a girl who chose a competing sorority house, which pitted us against each other from the very beginning—to become my home.

I cried at the end of my freshman year when I had to go home for the summer. I had wanted to stay on campus instead of going back to my hometown, a hometown that had always been good to me. I hadn’t wanted to leave the security and connections I’d found on campus.

And when I returned for my sophomore year and moved into my Alpha Chi sorority house, it was with a larger smile and a confidence I’d never had before.

I grew in college. I became stronger, more assured of myself. I learned how to handle drunken assholes and escape parties without being taken advantage of. I learned the meaning of overnight cram sessions and showing up for finals with eyes feeling like they’d been scoured with sandpaper.

I learned who I was.

And somehow, just a year after graduation, I threw that girl away and became someone I never wanted to see again.

A forceful puff of breath left my lips as I shook off memories that came after all the good times.

I didn’t want to think about Kevin.

Not in Declan’s home, where for the first time in my life since those college days, I finally felt safe again.

With a quick shake of my head, I clicked the button on the remote, changed the channel to the movie station, and settled in to watch
Sweet Home Alabama
for the umpteenth time.

I was just getting to my favorite part, where Reese Witherspoon walks into the small-town bar for the first time in her quest to get a divorce from her husband, when my phone began to ring with a shrill tone.

Everything in me chilled as I pulled my eyes from the television screen and stared at the light flashing on my cellphone.

Declan was the only one who had the number. His cell and the number for Fireside were the only numbers programmed into it.

I didn’t even know why I had it sitting next to me instead of tucked away in my purse where I usually kept it.

I must have tossed it there after my walk.

It vibrated and rang again, and I reached out to grab it.

It was just a wrong number.

The thought didn’t bring me comfort as I pressed the Connect button and lifted the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.

A deep, familiar chuckle echoed through the line and my blood turned frigid. “Hello, Katrina. Surely you didn’t think I wouldn’t be able to find you.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I knew this whole time that I was fooling myself.

I jerked the phone away from my ear, hit the End button, and threw it at the wall. It bounced off, undamaged, luckily, but I started shaking, terrified.

I stared at the phone as if Kevin himself was going to materialize through the plastic contraption, and another tremor vibrated through my body.

“Holy shit,” I gasped.

He had done it.

How did you even get the number for a phone bought at a random RadioShack?

Security cameras?

It didn’t matter now.

I pushed myself to my feet and rushed upstairs, running like the flames of a fire were nipping at my heels. I vaguely heard Boomer thumping up the stairs behind me, but I paid him no attention as I reached for the bag I’d stashed at the bottom of the closet. I began tossing all my clothes inside, ripping them off hangers and letting the hangers fall on the floor in a pile. Then I hurried to the bathroom where I scooped all of my bathroom supplies into my arms and rushed back to the bedroom.

I had to get out of there.

Canada.

I’d continue with my original plan. With the couple of hundred dollars I’d made in tips, plus the car I could eventually sell, I had enough to get another trashy hotel room.

I just had to say goodbye to Declan.

The thought made me pause as I dumped my bathroom things on top of the clothes in my bag.

I didn’t have to say goodbye to him.

I could just leave.

I had known him a week and didn’t owe him anything.

But he was so damn nice to you and the least you could do was call him so he didn’t worry.

And he would worry.

I knew it.

It was that whisper of conscience inside my head that made me head toward the phone in his bedroom.

I’d ignored this room since I’d been here, and yet now, knowing it was the only time I’d be inside his room, I couldn’t stop my gaze from taking in everything.

A rich-gray comforter flung haphazardly over the pillows, blue walls that almost looked gray. They weren’t too dark or too girly, but the perfect masculine blend. It matched the rich, dark wood of his headboard, nightstands, and dresser.

Clothes weren’t strewn all over the floor, but they spilled over a hamper in the corner of his room just outside a door, which I assumed was his closet.

He was clean. Not stuffy and precise, but clean and picked up.

A lump lodged in my throat as I moved on what felt like wooden feet to the far side of his bed, where a landline phone rested on the nightstand. I’d heard it ring in there before, the only way I knew there was a phone in his room.

My fingers shook as I reached for it and dialed the number to Fireside before I could second-guess myself.

It was after seven and the dinner rush wouldn’t really have started yet, but I still didn’t expect him to answer.