Chapter 6
ELARA
The lawyer’s office is closed. A note on the door says he had to run out for an errand, and he’ll be back in thirty minutes. I chew the inside of my cheek, then forcibly stop myself. That’s a bad habit I picked up after… everything.
Mira clutches my hand tightly, the way she always does when we’re in public, flinching as people walk by.
But she seems less skittish than usual. That might have something to do with the six-foot-tall, rugged man standing on my other side, his dark eyes constantly on me, as if he’s waiting for me to fess up to something.
He makes it too easy for me to snap, for buried emotions to surface and wreak havoc on me. There’s just something about him that makes it difficult to pretend, to act like everything is okay.
“The diner across the street makes good pancakes,” he says, voice husky. “My treat.”
Mira tugs on my hand and looks up at me hopefully. “Can we, Sissy?”
I agree… for her sake. I tell myself. Anything that keeps Mira talking and not buried in her shell is a good thing.
“Sure,” I murmur. “We’ll keep an eye on the place while we eat.”
The three of us walk across the street. A group of women are power walking down the sidewalk in sports gear, hair and makeup perfect despite the exercise, fit Real Housewives types.
All five of them gape at Rhett like he’s a male model on the cover of a romance novel.
One of them even lets her mouth fall open.
Fine. Let them ogle him. It means nothing to me.
So why do I feel like snapping at them to cram their protein shakes down their skinny throats and mind their own business?
The diner has a retro feel. In the corner, there’s a row of arcade machines. Mira gasps and looks up at me. “Can I, Sissy?”
“I don’t have any cash,” I tell her regretfully.
Rhett raises an eyebrow at me and pats his pocket.
Stop being so nice.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He nods. “No trouble at all.”
“Okay, then.” I turn to Mira and tell her to stay where I can see her. “At all times. Understand?”
Rhett hands her some coins, and she skips happily away. I watch her go, and I swear, I’m about two seconds away from bursting into tears. I think if I were alone, I might. But I don’t want to get into all that with my neighbor.
We sit, and the waitress pours us some coffee and takes our order. Mira plays on an arcade machine, but looks over her shoulder every so often, as if to watch mine and Rhett’s progress. It’s like she’s playing matchmaker. If that’s the case, she’s going to be disappointed.
“So, why Gunnison Peaks?” he asks.
I look down at the table. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” I say after a pause.
Going on the offensive is easier: less attention on me.
“Were you born here?” I go on.
“No, I was born in New York. We moved to Colorado when I was a teenager.”
“To Gunnison?”
“No,” he says. “So why did you—”
“So why this place specifically?” I cut in, determined not to talk about myself.
He stares at me for a moment, gliding his rough finger around the rim of his mug.
“I mean, you live out in the middle of nowhere all alone. Before we moved in, your closest neighbor was, what, three miles, more?”
“More,” he agrees.
“You must like the privacy, the isolation. You must enjoy being alone.”
“I’ve never been… averse to my own company,” he says diplomatically.
Now he seems like he’s being more evasive than me.
“So, why?”
He sighs.
“Sorry, is it a touchy subject?”
He rests his elbows on the table. His enormous hands happen to rest next to mine. For a long moment, his fingers brush against the back of my hands. It’s a tiny point of contact, and it should mean nothing. But after everything, it makes me sizzle, causing jolts of electricity to shoot up my arms.
“You need to stop with the goddamn sorries,” he growls, looking fiercely at me.
I look at Mira, both because I’ll never stop checking on her and because it’s easier than staring at his smoldering face.
“Bad habit,” I admit.
“It’s not a touchy subject. I like being alone. I like being in control. Out here, I’ve got my own power, grow my own food. I’ve got a storehouse with supplies. I don’t have to rely on anyone, and that’s the way I like it.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Is this an interview?” He says a little tersely.
I snatch my hands away and clasp them in my lap.
He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, Elle.”
“I thought sorry was a bad word?”
“When it’s not needed. But it’s needed now. There was no need for that.”
“If I dare to ask why again, are you going to snap again?”
He shakes his head. “People let you down. Trusting me, and only me, it’s easier. If I make myself a promise, I know I’ll keep it. I can’t say the same for the rest of the world.”
“That much we can agree on,” I murmur.
Lucian only got nine years for what he did, a sentence that makes no sense except in his murky criminal underworld where people can get away with anything.
Anger tries to overtake me. My eyes sting as tears threaten.
“Do you have any hobbies?” I ask to distract him… and myself.
“I practice with my bow whenever I get the chance.”
I look at Mira instantly. “Mira always wanted to shoot a bow,” I murmur. “Well, she did.”
“Not anymore?” he says.
Behind me, someone laughs loudly. I jolt, my arms wrapping around my middle. Mira turns and stares across the diner, that all-too-familiar terror in her eyes. But then she looks at Rhett, and her shoulders relax. My heart pounds with a mixture of fear and relief.
I shouldn’t let her get too attached to this stranger. But she deserves to be happy.
“We’ve been… busy,” I murmur.
“Maybe I’ll give her a lesson or two,” he says.
“That could be nice,” I agree.
“Other than that,” he goes on. “I train MMA and self-defense at the dojo in town to keep my skills sharp. I teach a few classes too.”
“You do?”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Just like Lucian—just like that night—the smile that never reached his eyes…
I claw at the skin of my thumb with my other hand. For God’s sake. It will never just leave me the hell alone.
“Why’s that surprising?” he asks.
“I didn’t take you for a people person.”
When the waitress brings our pancakes, I call Mira. She skips over, sitting next to Rhett and taking her plate from my side of the table. She looks up at him with a big, toothy smile. “Thank you, Brrrr-Rhett!”
“You’re welcome, little lady.” He turns to me.
“And you’re right, Elle. I’m not much of a people person.
But people need to know how to defend themselves.
One misplaced instinct is the difference between survival and…
” He winces, glancing at Mira. “The alternative. You’re welcome to come to a class. ”
A sharp shiver runs up my spine. A class with people everywhere. Just sitting in this diner is difficult enough.
“Can we, Sissy?” Mira asks before I can say no.
“I don’t think so, angel. It will be very busy.”
Mira ducks her head. “Oh.”
“Or we can do a private lesson,” Rhett jumps in. “I could drive us into town tomorrow. There’s plenty I could teach you. And even just working up a sweat is its own reward.”
I look at him, try to convince myself he’s good, convince myself he’s not one of the bad guys.
If Mira weren’t here, I’d say no, even if the thought of Rhett coated in sweat with his muscular arms on display does affect me.
I’m not some sex-crazed woman, never was, and definitely not after Lucian.
I’d be able to ignore the temptation if it weren’t for that unbreakable hope on Mira’s adorable face.
“Sure, yeah, okay,” I murmur. “I guess that could be… fine.”
“Fine,” he repeats. “Make sure to bring that same level of enthusiasm to my Yelp review. Rhett Maddox is just fine…”
A laugh erupts from me, loud and carefree. I cover my mouth, but then he winks, and I laugh again. Mira giggles as a line of syrup slides down her chin. Rhett looks at her, wiggling his eyebrows, and that makes her laugh even harder, which makes me laugh even more.
It’s beautiful and impossible and magical, and somehow, I can’t shake the feeling it’s going to end in disaster.