Chapter 13
Ryder
As Roy leaves, Joyce returns, holding a steaming cup of coffee. She carefully leans between us to set it down. “How’s the sandwich? Would you like a pastry?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
She glances at Claire. “You’ll get him something if he changes his mind…?”
“Yes, Mom. Don’t worry. Ryder will let me know if he wants something else.”
“Good. Good.” She smiles warmly at me and holds my gaze for a few seconds before shaking out of her momentary trance and rubbing her hands together. “Well, I better get back out front. It was so nice meeting you, Ryder. Come around any time.”
“Thank you, Joyce.”
As soon as the door shuts behind her, leaving me alone with Claire, I turn toward her and cup her face. “What’s with the sweater, baby? Were you afraid your nipples would harden when I arrived and your parents would notice?” I tease. I seriously doubt that’s the reason for the sweater, but it’s worth a shot.
Her eyes widen for a moment, and then she nods and pulls it around her tighter. “That would be embarrassing.”
I stare at her, my mind racing. What the fuck? She’s lying. Why? I glance down at the bulky sweater. It’s way too thick for today. It would be cumbersome in the bakery. And a sheen of sweat is gathering at her temples.
“Were you wearing that before I got here, Claire?” I will nail her down on this. I just need to figure out what the fuck is going on. I casually eat more of my sandwich while I watch her fidget.
“Jeez, Ryder. Let it go. Maybe I just like this sweater. Why are you harping about it?”
“Because you’re lying to me, baby.” I take another bite. The sandwich is delicious. My woman is hiding something from me. “Did you get a tattoo in the middle of the night?” I reach up to push the sweater off her shoulder as if I might reveal a tattoo, but she jumps to her feet, preventing me from touching her.
I’m startled and beyond concerned. This is not the Claire I met yesterday. She’s skittish. Something is wrong. Maybe she’s changed her mind about me and doesn’t want me to see so much of her skin. But she obviously gave her parents a glowing report because they seemed very pleased about my presence.
I stand and reach for her bicep. “Hey…” The moment I wrap my fingers around her arm, she winces.
What. The. Fuck .
“Claire.” My voice is firm. I’m starting to panic now. “What are you hiding?”
She takes another step back, pulling the sweater around her. “Nothing. I should get back to work. Text me later?”
I shake my head as I approach her. “You have two choices—take that sweater off right here and now or lead me upstairs and do it.” Whatever this is about, she’s hiding it from her parents, too.
She draws in a breath. “You’re just as pushy today as you were yesterday.”
“Yes, baby. I’m a bossy guy. I will be bossy for the rest of your life, but this morning, I’m concerned about you. I’m not leaving until I have answers.” I’m out of possibilities.
She lowers her head and shoulders. Her voice is faint. “Can we talk about it later, please? Tomorrow or something?”
“No. We can talk about it right now, baby. Take the sweater off.”
She lifts her face, and my heart nearly stops. There are tears glistening in her eyes. “Ryder, I’m asking you to trust me. Please.” Her voice wobbles. She’s close to crying. Am I upsetting her? She’s shaking.
“And I’m asking you to trust me , baby.” It’s hard to keep my voice low and steady. I don’t step closer or touch her. “There’s not a chance in hell I’m leaving here without answers.”
She glances at the door to the kitchen. “I don’t want my parents to know.”
“Fine. Know what?”
She glances at the door that leads to the stairwell. “They’ll think I’m a slut if I take you upstairs. Please, Ryder. Later. I’ll come and see you after work if you insist.”
“Claire, you’re going to see me after work no matter what. We’re a couple. I’m not eating dinner alone. You can take your time making your way to my bed, but my heart is already yours. I won’t let you keep things from me, and whatever this is seems serious.”
“If I show you, will you promise to stay calm and not make a scene?”
I shake my head. “No.”
She sighs. “Ryder…”
I close the space between us and tip her head back with a finger under her chin. “I’m one second from not being calm already, Claire. You’re scaring the fuck out of me.”
She lowers her gaze and reaches up to ease one side of the sweater down her arm.
I gasp and gently grasp her elbow to angle her arm to see it better. “What the fuck, Claire. Those are fingerprints. Who did this to you, and when?”
At that moment, the kitchen door swings open, and Claire’s mother enters.
It’s too late for me to cover Claire’s arm; besides, I have no interest in doing so. Why is she hiding it from her parents? She’s sure as fuck not hiding it any longer. I want answers. Now.
Joyce gasps, her eyes going wide, a hand reaching up to cover her mouth. She shoots daggers at me with her gaze.
Claire quickly yanks the sweater back up and steps between me and her mom. Her voice rises. “Mom, it’s not what you think.”
Joyce is trembling, and she looks like she might vomit. She looks at me as she lowers her hand. “Did you do that?”
“No,” I say definitively. “I’m trying to get Claire to tell me who did.”
“Mom, he didn’t do it. He didn’t know about it.”
“But…”
Her father enters. “What’s going on?” His brows are furrowed. “Why are you all shouting?”
I’m done with keeping this a secret. I grab the edge of Claire’s sweater, yank it down to her wrist, and point at her arm. “Someone hurt her, and she’s apparently reluctant to tell me or either of you about it.”
“Claire!” Roy rushes forward to get a better look.
I pull the rest of her sweater off and toss it onto the chair as flames come out of my head. Her other arm is worse. “You did not have these bruises when you left my house last night. How did you get them?”
Tears are running down Claire’s face, and her bottom lip trembles as she meets my gaze before glancing at her parents. “Smith was waiting for me behind the bakery when I got home last night.”
“Smith?” I run the name through my brain and come up with nothing.
“Smith!” her father shouts. If there are customers in the shop, they’re getting an earful. I don’t care. “That fucking slimeball touched you? I knew I didn’t like him, but I didn’t know he was abusive. Has he touched you before?”
Claire shakes her head. “No. It was the first time.”
Her mother is crying also. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
I pull Claire gently into my arms. I’m fit to kill, but she needs me to be calm for her right now. She needs someone to hold her, not shout at her.
Claire sobs. “I didn’t want anyone to know,” she says between hiccups.
Her father seems to get taller, and I feel the same rage I see on his red face. “He was waiting for you out back and ambushed you?” Roy shouts.
“Yes,” she mutters.
“Did he…?” Her mother asks this halted question.
I stiffen. If there’s more, I will kill that asshole with my bare hands, whoever he is.
Claire shakes her head. “It’s just this. He kept grabbing me.”
“Why?” Roy asks.
I suck in a breath. “Because you spent the day with me.”
She buries her face in my shirt, and I pull her closer, rubbing her back. I don’t want to hurt her further, but I need to have her in my arms. There are no other options.
“H-h-he…” She pulls in deep breaths and finally leans back to look at us all in turn. “He said I was his and called me a whore for going to the mansion.”
I grit my teeth and look at her father. “Who is this Smith asshole?”
Roy pulls in a ragged breath. “Claire dated him for a while a few years ago. He comes around sometimes. I suspected he was pining for her, but I didn’t know he would resort to violence. Claire, we need to call the sheriff.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “No. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Who’s going to believe me over Smith? He’ll tell the entire town I’m a liar and a whore. He threatened to do that. I’d rather no one find out. What if he convinces people not to come to the bakery? What if he…” Her gaze shifts to mine. “What if he comes after you?”
My eyes widen. “Baby, he can come after me all he wants. He won’t get to me.”
She starts crying again, breaking my heart. “Please… Can we just… Not?”
Her father paces. Her mother has one hand lifted to her lips, shaking. Tears fill her eyes. I don’t blame her. Her daughter got assaulted at their back door.
I draw in a deep breath, trying to think. “Is there someone in town you trust to keep a secret? A nurse, maybe, or a doctor? Someone who can take pictures and document the assault.”
Claire shakes her head. “Everyone in town would know if I went to the clinic.”
Roy stops pacing. “The sheriff is a good man. He’ll listen, and he needs to know, Claire. He comes in here most days for a coffee. I’ll give him a call and ask him if he can stop by now. I’ll invite him back to the kitchen to take a look at something. No one else in town needs to find out.”
Claire hesitates before nodding. “Okay.” She sniffles.
Her mother reaches for a few napkins on the table and hands them to me.
I wipe Claire’s tears and hand her the napkin so she can blow her nose. When she’s done, I ball up the napkin in my hand. I kiss her forehead. “Let’s go upstairs and pack some of your things while we wait for the sheriff. You can stay at the estate with me. I don’t want you coming and going from the bakery as long as that man is free.”
Her eyes go wide. “I can’t do that.”
Her father makes his brief call and returns his attention to us. “I think that’s a good idea, Claire. Smith isn’t going to go up to the mansion to harass you.” He looks at me. “Do you have security?”
“Yes. I saw cameras, anyway. I’m not sure if it’s all hooked up, but I’ll make sure it’s taken care of by the end of the day.”
Joyce nods in agreement. “I’ve been up there a few times. I know there are cameras at the entrance gate to the estate.”
I nod. “That gate’s been open since I arrived, but we’ll close it and make sure the cameras are on and monitored.”
“I think you’re all overreacting,” Claire says. “I’m fine. I’ll pay closer attention to my surroundings from now on. I wasn’t looking. He caught me off guard. He won’t be able to do it again.”
I lift her chin and lean in close to her face. “Baby, are you going to argue with me about every single thing for the rest of our lives?”
Her breath hitches.
Her mother gives a half-sob half-chuckle. “She’s strong-willed and pigheaded, this one. I wasn’t sure she’d ever meet a man who could go toe-to-toe with her. It certainly wasn’t ever going to be Smith Winston. He’s a pussy.”
Claire gasps. “Mom.” I suspect she’s never heard her mother talk like that.
I’m pleased and can’t keep from smiling as I look at Joyce.
“It’s the truth.” Joyce shrugs and shifts her gaze to mine. “You seem like a nice man, and you obviously adore my daughter. Promise me you’ll protect her.”
“With my life.”
“She’ll fight you,” Joyce says.
I grin. “She won’t win a fight regarding her safety, Joyce. I promise.”
Roy gives a sharp nod. “It’s settled then. Go pack your things.” He turns and marches back into the shop.