45
All over the place
Rafferty returned Brandy-Lyn’s hug and buried his face against her neck, breathing deeply. A shudder wracked his body, and he tightened his hold on her.
And if he never let go, that was just fine by him.
What he’d admitted was true — he hadn’t realized until he saw her standing before him how much he wanted, no, needed her.
How isolated and alone and intimidated he’d felt.
But with Brandy-Lyn pressed against him, and her soothing scent enveloping him, a surreal calmness settled over him, and he knew that with her support, he would conquer the mountain ahead of him.
He drew back and issued a shaky laugh. “I’m so out of my depth here, Red, it’s not funny.”
Compassion shone in her luminous eyes.
And for a beat something flickered in her gaze.
Something softer. Deeper.
“Then it’s good I’m here to help, sugar.” Her easy tone gave no hint of the emotion he imagined. “But first, I need the bathroom. Desperately.” Her words were accompanied by a grumbling sound. She gave a light laugh. “And if you feed me, you’ll move to bestie status.”
For the first time he noticed the dark shadows under eyes. And scanning behind her, the familiar Yukon in the street. “You drove here?” he growled. It was a twelve-hour journey. The time was barely three in the afternoon. That meant she left Texas in the middle of the night.
For him.
A furrow formed between her eyes. “Uh, yeah. The KS jet wasn’t available, and I figured you could hook the U-Haul to the Yukon instead of driving a hired car back to Texas. And travelling with two young children is not easy. You’ll need help.”
This woman. She floored him. Utterly floored him.
“Brandy-Lyn, uh …” He scrubbed a hand over his face, cleared his throat, and started again. “I cannot even begin to explain how much I appreciate you being here.”
Her warm and full smile wrapped him in comfort. “You’re so welcome.”
“Who escorted you?”
“No one.”
He blinked at her, stunned. “You drove here alone ?”
She pursed her lips and lifted her chin. “Yeah.”
“Brandy-Lyn,” he exploded. “There’s a deranged woman—”
“And she’s far, far from here.”
Maybe. No one had seen Kamila since she landed in Rio. But Rafferty wouldn’t put it past her to turn around and come right back.
And Brandy-Lyn had driven alone. All the way from Texas.
The thought of something happening to her — of a world without his Red in it — was too much to bear.
Reaching up, she cupped his face with both hands. “I’m here, sugar. Safe.” She raised her brows. “And before you yell anymore, I really need the bathroom.”
Rafferty set aside his concern. For now. But he was going to have words with whoever allowed her to drive on her own. “Come.” He took hold of her arm and tugged her onto the porch. “I’ll show you the bathroom and order some food. Pizza good? Fully loaded?”
“Sounds awesome.”
She entered the house in front of him, and he indicated down the hallway. “Second right,” he murmured. Watching her scurry away, he took a moment to appreciate the way her faded jeans hugged her backside just so and her legs…
Fake fiancée, Rafferty Lawson. Fake . Do not complicate an already complicated situation.
A few minutes later, Brandy-Lyn joined him in the living room.
She had removed her blue-and-yellow padded flannel shirt, and a few water spots stained her cheery yellow long-sleeved T-shirt.
And despite his earlier self-chastisement, he couldn’t stop his heart beating faster and his dick taking note at the enticing sight of her breasts stretching the soft material.
She draped the flannel over the back of the couch and slapped her hands together. “Right. What needs to be done?”
He met her questioning stare. “Honestly, Red, I’ve been all over the place, angry that Selena’s perfect life here imploded, sad that Connor and Nadie will grow up without knowing her.”
Brandy-Lyn nodded. “I get it.” She crossed the room to stop in front of the mantelpiece where a group of photos were on display.
She lifted one showing a pretty brunette hugging a dark-haired boy who in turn held a small baby dressed in a white frilly dress in his arms and traced her finger over it.
“She looks so happy. And clearly loved her children,” she murmured, hugging the frame to her chest. “It is heartbreaking all their milestones she’ll miss out on.
Sports games. Finishing school. Graduating college.
Watching them walk down the aisle. Holding their babies. ”
Another wave of melancholy swept over him.
“My mom died when I was thirteen.”
His breath hitched. How did he not know this? A vision of a sad, freckle-faced, pigtailed Brandy-Lyn dressed in black sprung to mind. He moved closer and pulled her into a one-arm hug. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured.
She laid her head against his shoulder. “Thank you. Life was simpler without her around. But … her death left a void.” She sighed, replacing the photo in its position amongst the others.
They stood still for a minute, maybe two, before she spoke again.
“My father …” She inhaled a sharp breath and twisted from under his arm to face him.
“My father destroyed everything that reminded him of my mom. Everything,” she spat.
“It was as if she’d never … existed.”She gave a short, bitter laugh.
“It was his way of getting rid of the bad memories. Two months later he started seeing another woman. They married soon after.”
“That’s … harsh?”
She shrugged. “Georgia wasn’t a wicked stepmom, just … indifferent. She made sure I was fed and clothed, and we learned to co-exist.”
There was a lot of pain in her voice, but before he could ask more questions, she continued, “Maybe I can help you decide what personal items to keep? Things I’d’ve like to have had of my mom.”
He tucked the same stubborn lock of hair behind her ear. “I’d love your help.”
She was the first to break eye contact by looking around. “What’s going to happen to the furniture?”
“The kids’ stuff is all going to Texas. Rae — the woman looking after them now — suggested relocating their bedrooms as-is to make their transition easier. Once we’re gone, Selena’s friends here will stage the house for sale and donate anything the new owners don’t want to charity.”
“Makes sense.”
A sound from the entryway snapped their attention around.
“Hello? Mr. Lawson?”
Mrs. Bronson stood in the doorway, clutching her handbag like a shield.
Rafferty bit back a groan. Of all people, she was the last he wanted to see right now. Stepping away from Brandy-Lyn, he said, “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
She sniffed. “I saw the Texas plates on the vehicle in the street.”
Nosy woman.
*
“I’m sorry,” Rafferty said again as he opened the Yukon’s door. Deep shadows stretched across the parking lot outside his hotel.
Brandy-Lyn slid out of the passenger seat. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, sugar.”
“Nosy woman,” he muttered.
She gave a sleepy grin, swayed a little on her feet, and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. “ Ugh . Sorry. I’m so freaking tired.”
He pulled her suitcase from the back and hit the lock. Slinging the case in one hand, he held out his other arm.
“Come on. Let’s get you settled before you conk out on the sidewalk.”
Her fingers interlocked with his, and the side of her breast rubbed against his arm as she drew closer and leaned into him. Warmth spread up his arm and shoulder and into his chest, coiling around his heart.
Rafferty twisted his neck to look down at her. The crown of her head was right there, level with his chin, the security light catching the strands of grey amongst the auburn as they moved under its glow. He tipped his head and brushed his lips across her hair.
She jolted and looked up at him, lips parted.
His gaze flicked to her eyes, and he found the same something extra from earlier lurking in the green depths. Maybe exhaustion dulled her reflexes, because the longer he held her gaze, the brighter her eyes glowed.
And a rightness settled in his soul.
A deep knowing that this woman was made for him.
Twenty years ago, she had been the forbidden one. His brother’s girlfriend. Since then, life had taken him on a twisted and terrible journey before disgorging him right on her doorstep.
But Brandy-Lyn was his.
Somehow, he had to make this fake engagement a real one, because his feelings for her were as real as they got.
“Red,” he whispered, ready to lay bare his soul, but another yawn stopped him short. And because he was staring intently at her, he caught a glimpse of her tonsils before she slapped her hand over her mouth.
A rueful smile twisted his lips. Now was not the time for his confession.
Two steps later, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. And his spine tingled. He stopped, scanning the area. But the security lighting only did so much. There were too many pockets of deep shadows.
“What’s wrong?” Brandy-Lyn whispered, her hand clasping his bicep as she moved closer.
He didn’t answer. Just steered her inside the hotel with brisk urgency, keeping his body between her and whatever danger had stirred his instincts.
The lobby was quiet. Not a soul in sight.
He kept her close as they climbed the stairs, his senses on high alert. It wasn’t until they reached his room that he exhaled a sharp breath — the thread he’d wedged into the doorjamb was undisturbed.
He unlocked, turned the knob, and pushed the door open, giving the hallway one last glance. Empty. Thank God. “Wait here.” He dropped her bag and did a quick walkthrough. All clear. He beckoned her in, grabbed her bag, locking the door behind them and sliding the chain into place.
The chain wouldn’t stop someone determined, but it’d buy him a few precious seconds to grab the weapon KS had supplied him with.
Brandy-Lyn stumbled across the carpet and face-planted on the bed with a mighty groan.
Rafferty dropped her case on the luggage rack, extracted his cellphone, and found Stas’s number. He spoke as soon as the man answered. “Need a security sweep of the hotel area.”
The man didn’t waste time asking questions. “On it. Brandy with you?”
“Yes.”
“Keep her with you.”
“Won’t let her out of my sight.”
On the drive to the hotel, they had discussed their sleeping arrangement. Considering small-town gossip, not sharing a room was bound to get back to Mrs. Bronson and make her question their engagement.
He’d determined to sleep on the couch.
Looking at the woman draped across the bed, he asked, “What happened to that bath you were harping on earlier?” The mere idea of Brandy-Lyn in the large oval tub had been sweet torture. Almost as much as seeing her on that big bed.
She mumbled something incoherent.
Grinning, he emptied his pockets, placing his cellphone, wallet, and keys on the dresser, and his weapon in the bedside drawer. “How about I fill the tub for you?”
Pushing up on her elbows, she twisted to look at him. “You’ll do that for me?”
The confusion in her voice made him frown. “Brandy-Lyn, you drove twelve hours and packed up half a house. I owe you so much more than filling a tub with water.”
She turned over and moved to the edge of the bed. “Nobody’s ever run a bath for me. Not since childhood, anyway.”