Chapter Fifteen
Franny didn’t leave her apartment. She didn’t even leave her bedroom except to eat. The writing wasn’t going quite as well as it had the other day. As much as she wanted to think about fictional worlds, lose herself there, her brain kept wandering back to book burning.
Her books.
So when the writing couldn’t distract her from the creepy, crawly targeted feeling, she let herself be distracted by the internet.
About the only thing that took her mind off her anxiety was watching videos of a concert she’d never attend.
Then she called Audra back—because of course Copeland had run his mouth and told her about Royal being there this morning.
“He just spent the night on the couch because he fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him up, because he’s running himself ragged watching out for me.”
“Hmm,” was all Audra had said.
“Trust me, Audra. He’s like…” She thought about everything he’d told her about the Sons. About foster homes. She was so…pampered and privileged in comparison. There was just no way he saw anything interesting in her. “He’s not into me.”
“You’ve never been a very good judge of that.”
“I swear, Audra. He’s touched me all of three times. And it’s that friendly cop-to-victim attagirl pat each time.”
“Cataloguing it?”
“Well, sure. He’s hot. He has tattoos.”
Audra snorted. Luckily for Franny, Audra had a million things to do at the ranch, so she’d been able to move the conversation quickly along, promising to go over to the ranch for dinner once this whole surveillance thing was over.
She got an update on Rosalie—sick as a dog but finally taking the anti-nausea medication. Then she said goodbye.
And spent the next two hours doomscrolling.
When it got to be close to seven, she forced herself out of bed. She’d make dinner again. Maybe Royal would stop by and she could con him into staying again. Probably not fair. Probably not what she should try to do.
But she was just so much more at ease when someone was here.
Not just any someone, because there were cameras.
It had to be someone she was comfortable with, and since Audra had ranch business and Rosalie had puking and baby-growing business, and Vi had her ever-growing family to contend with…
Royal was just going to have to suck it up.
Or tell her no.
Before she could talk herself out of the sinking feeling in her stomach at the thought of him refusing and how embarrassing that would be, her phone chimed.
Coming up.
It was from Royal. She appreciated that he texted first, so her heart didn’t jump into her throat in fear at an unexpected knock. But why was he here? Did he want to eat dinner with her every night?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, turning off the security system and then going to unlock the door and open it.
He looked just about the same as he had last night, in fresh clothes and wet hair like he’d run through the shower after his shift.
There was just something that happened inside of her every time she saw him.
It wasn’t just thinking he was hot—she thought plenty of guys were hot.
It was something in the eyes, the serious cast of his mouth pretty much always, even when he laughed.
Because his childhood was the worst, Franny. Not because he’s a brooding romance hero.
“Hi.” She shifted out of the doorway so he could come in, but he didn’t move forward right away.
“Hey. You busy?”
“Oh, no. Just…figuring out what to eat for dinner. Um, I can make enough for two if you want to stay again.”
“Actually, I promised my sister I’d have dinner at her place tonight. Something we try to do once a week.”
She refused to feel disappointed. She refused to let her expression fall. She kept her smile bright, but before she could think of what to say like, please don’t. He kept talking.
“I came over to see if you want to come with.”
“Come…with.” She had no idea what to do with that invitation or how to feel about it. She wanted to, obviously, but this was his sister and… If it was pity, she didn’t want his full-blown pity.
Did she?
“Sure. I’m picking up a pizza. And you’ve already met, right? So, nothing crazy. Just be two hours probably.” He shrugged, all casual and at ease while her lungs seemed to tie themselves into a knot.
“Is this because you feel sorry for me, or because you literally think I’m in that much danger?” She wouldn’t allow herself to think about any third option, or Audra saying she never recognized when men were into her.
He most assuredly was not. This was business. Protection. His job.
He studied her for a long drawn-out minute, standing there in her doorway. He had a way of standing that seemed casual, but then she caught that intensity in his eyes, and it dispelled her of that notion right quick. But it certainly didn’t stop the obnoxious fluttering thing her heart was doing.
“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said very carefully.
“I don’t think you’re going to wind up dead if I leave you here, but I have…
concerns if I’m out close to Sunrise and you’re here.
It’s just too much space. But Mayfield’s a good cop from what I’ve seen.
If you want to stay, I can turn over the surveillance stuff to him until I get back. ”
She was already shaking her head. “No.” Maybe she should be fine with any cop handling her surveillance, but it had set her on edge enough and she knew, trusted, liked Royal.
She’d never even met this Mayfield. “I’ll…
go with you.” She looked down at her outfit—the same thing she’d put on this morning in a panic. “I need to change first.”
“You look fine for pizza.”
She waved him in, shaking her head. “You’re a man who looks good in whatever you put on. You don’t understand.”
“You look good,” he said closing the door behind him.
She could not engage with that. Because if she did…she might read into it. He was just being polite. “No, you said I look fine, and I don’t. I look like… I’ve been rotting in bed all day. Because I have.”
“Does it matter?”
She fisted her hands on her hips and gave him her best glare. “Do you want to keep arguing or do you just want to let me get dressed?”
He made a waving motion for the hallway. So she went into her room, inwardly groaned that she could not take her time thinking this through. What did you wear for a pizza dinner at your protector cop’s sister’s house? When you were the sad victim, not an actual guest.
Match Royal’s vibe. Casual. Relaxed. She changed out of her yoga pants into jean shorts with a plain blouse—slightly elevated from a T-shirt but not fancy. Then tennis shoes, because if she remembered correctly, Brooke lived on a ranch. Footwear should match the location.
Hair? No mirror. She grabbed a clip off her dresser, twisted her hair up, then used her phone to use the camera as a kind of mirror.
Once she was satisfied—or at least as satisfied she was going to get in a few minutes—she went back out to the main room. Royal was standing in front of her bookcase.
And she was back to thinking about someone purposefully burning all her books.
“You got a favorite?” he asked, pointing at the shelf where she’d arranged her own books.
“Of my books?”
He nodded.
She wasn’t sure why he’d ask, but she gave it some thought as she walked over to stand next to him.
The physical representation of the past seven years of work.
“I don’t know that I have a favorite. They all mean…
something different, I guess.” She reached out, tapped her fourth one.
“This one though? Rejected by my first editor, so selling it to a new publisher—and then having it do well—probably the one that brings the biggest smile to my face.”
He chuckled. “Spite determines your favorite?”
“Spite is a great motivator.”
His mouth curved. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“You’re not a police officer out of spite.”
“Maybe not, but it didn’t hurt thinking about how much my dad would hate it when the academy was annoying as hell. Kinda spitey.”
“Kinda,” she agreed, amused. More…thrilled than she had any sensible right to be that he understood.
“Well, we better head out,” he said. “I promised Brooke I’d pick up the pizza, and she likes to remind me you shouldn’t leave a pregnant woman hungry.”
“Oh, she’s having a baby? Isn’t that great?” She grinned at him as they left the apartment. She locked the door and set all the alarms. “Uncle Royal.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He grunted, leading her down to a car that wasn’t his police cruiser. “Kinda weird.”
They settled into the car. “I love being an aunt—well, honorary aunt, because I don’t have siblings. But I got to help Vi when she had Magnolia, so I became Aunt Franny, though Mags calls me Geen.”
“Why?”
“Not a clue, but even now that she’s stringing full sentences together, I’m still Geen.
It’s cute. And then Fox came along, and he’s the sweetest little pudge ball.
And now Rosalie is having a baby? It’s the best. You get to spoil and play and be fun instead of having to worry about keeping a whole other human alive twenty-four-seven. ”
“Not sure I know how to be fun with an infant.”
“Oh, it’s easy,” Franny said waving that away as they drove. “I’m guessing the teenage years will be the hardest, but then you just take them to the R-rated movie their parents don’t want them to see or buy them the energy drink their parents won’t let them have.”
He eyed her. “You’re really planning on walking on the wild side.”
She laughed, even though he was kind of making fun of her. “Wild is my middle name.”
“I just bet,” he replied with a grin that had the damn flutter taking it up a notch, but he pulled into the pizza parlor parking lot.
“I’ll be right back.” It only took a few minutes before he reappeared with a big box of pizza and a bag balanced on top.
He secured the pizza in the back seat, then drove again.