21. 21
There’s a car across the street with a guy not even hiding in the driver’s seat. “I’ll come in for a minute if you don’t mind.”
Delaney sees him too. “That would probably be smart. Sorry, Miles.”
“Hey, it’s all part of the deal. Lars hired someone to clean out his building today.” But this isn’t about our deal or what the public thinks of me staying or going. Some creeper watching Delaney outside her house while she’s inside alone isn’t ever going to sit well with me. I won’t sleep a wink unless I know he’s gone.
“You mean your building, right?” she says.
I blink back to the present. “Yes, mine. I can’t wait to tell Walt.”
“He’s the student I saw you with.”
“He is. He could never get up to my current studio. The hall is narrow. Building a ramp isn’t even an option. So, this—this is going to be great.”
Her cheeks bloom with a grin. “Come in. You shouldn’t have to wait too long. We’re lucky it’s just the one guy. We can order some food in if you’re up for it.”
We exit the vehicle, and for the benefit of the man taking photos across the street—at least, that’s what I tell myself—I slip my hand into Delaney’s as we walk to the front door. Her hands are small and soft, except for her fingertips. I can tell she plays guitar; she’s got calluses on the tips of her fingers. I mindlessly run my thumb over the end of her pointer.
She unlocks the front door and we walk inside to her pristine rental. It looks as though she hasn’t stayed here at all yet.
”I don”t hang out here much,” she says as if I”ve spoken my thoughts aloud. ”I like the master bedroom. And the hot tub out back.”
“There’s a hot tub?”
“Yeah, do you want to—”
“That’s probably not a good idea.” My wife might be the most beautiful being I’ve ever come across. I don’t need to see her in a bikini. I’m trying to stay neutral after all.
She swallows. “Right. No swim trunks. Well, we can watch a movie or—”
A loud thunk sounds from the back of the house. Delaney jumps, her hand snatching onto mine once more.
“Cat?” I say.
“No. No pets,” she says, her face pale.
“Stay here,” I tell her, but she snatches a hold of the back of my shirt and moves herself right up behind me.
“You aren’t going anywhere without me,” she hisses.
We’re halfway down the hall when her chest bumps into my back. I grunt with the hit. She snakes an arm around my middle and holds me with an iron grasp.
“Delaney, I—”
Another thunk.
I pull her hand from my stomach and turn, bending a little to look her in the eye. “You aren’t coming with me,” I whisper. “I’ll be right back. Stay.”
Her throat bobs with a swallow, and her steel blue eyes glitter with unshed tears.
“Do you have any pepper spray?” I ask.
She nods, her hands in fists at her sides.
“Get it out. Get it ready. I will be back.” Holding her head in my hands, I kiss her forehead before finding her eyes again. “Right back. Okay? Trust me.”
I let her go and she scrambles a hand into her purse for a small pink can of pepper spray.
She nods me on with courage, but I can see the fear in her eyes. This isn’t something she’s simply used to because of who she is.
She’s a young, single woman—and idiots from all over now know where she’s staying. Why did I ever think she could stay here by herself?
My feet are quiet and quick as I walk to the back of the house. I listen, not knowing what I’ll find or what I’ll do when I find it. Maybe it is a cat—one Delaney didn’t know existed in the house.
Another low thump at my left tells me this is no four-legged creature. The door is shut tight, and I crack it open as if I were James Bond himself.
A bedroom. It must be the master suite because this space is definitely lived in. Clothes and dishes are strewn about the place, two guitars lean against the far wall, and a suitcase lays open and empty on the ground. Delaney’s bed is unmade and there’s a turquoise bra hanging from another door within the room.
I inch over and open up the door to a man looking through a small bag that I can only assume belongs to Delaney. There’s a breeze flitting in through the window above the tub, the lock broken, and the glass opened wide.
“Hey!” The word bellows from my mouth as if I could attack with that one syllable. The man jolts, standing straight, and whips around to face me, just three feet away. And then I do something I have never done in my twenty-seven pacifist years: I ball up a fist and hit another human.
Not just hit—I wallop this man with one punch to the face. One pain-exploding punch that snaps like a firecracker causing blood to burst from the man’s nose. Stabbing pain shoots down each of my fingers and up into my arm, but I’m in a lot better shape than the guy holding Delaney’s lipstick.
The man cries out in pain and crumbles to the ground, holding his nose that I think might be broken.
I shake the sting from my fingers and grunt with an ache that refuses to leave.
“Miles?” Delaney calls, her tone panicked.
“Call Nina!” I yell.
The creep has a small camera, and in my adrenaline rush, I bring my foot down on the thing, crushing it.
“Hey.” He moans, his hands still up around his nose and eyes.
“You’re lucky it was the camera,” I growl, heart racing. I may need to reevaluate my claim as a pacifist.
“Miles?” Delaney says again, this time closer.
“Stay outside the bathroom,” I tell her. “Did you call Nina?”
“She’s on her way.”
“Okay, stay there. I’m just going to wait right here to make sure our friend gets out the front with the correct ride.”
She’s quiet.
“Laney,” I say, giving her a nickname on the spot—one I’d never thought about. Is this what high-pressure situations do to a man? Force inner caveman violence and intimate pet names?
A small whimper sounds outside the room.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, comforting her while keeping one eye on our intruder. “Okay?”
“My grandma calls me that,” she says, her voice small.
“Oh yeah?” I say, trying to keep calm. If I’m calm, doesn’t that tell her there’s no reason to panic?
The man on the ground moans in pain but he doesn’t attempt escape.
“Laney?”
I wait for her to answer just as a faraway voice calls, “Miles?” Nina’s at the opposite end of the house.
Delaney gasps in a breath—that doesn’t convince me I’ve helped anyone stay calm. “We’re back here!”
In less than a minute, Nina and her partner barge into the room, and I gladly let them take control. I hurry out to find Delaney in a heap on the floor, just outside the bathroom door.
“Delaney?”
Her watery eyes look up to find mine. I reach out a hand and pull her to her feet, but she crumples in my arms. Her arms clasp around my middle and she buries her face into my chest. Hot tears seep through my shirt and onto my chest.
I rest my head on hers. A small wisp of blue hair flies up and in front of my eyes. I take her in—small and smooth, roses and sweetness, strong and scared. Then I remind myself that I’m not allowed to fall for my wife. It’s against the rules—the very special, specific rules that Delaney laid out for us yesterday.
Still, I hug her back, babying my right hand. Crap. Well, this isn’t going to be great for my career.
“Come on,” I tell her after Nina’s dragged the intruding man out of sight. “Let’s go.”
“But, where—”
“You think I’m letting my wife stay here? Without me? Not happening. Time to go home, Laney.”