Chapter 4
Four
Adrian stood dumbfounded, while Laila powered away, auburn curls bouncing behind her and fingers clasped around her little girl’s hand. Until now, he’d had no idea she had a child, and he didn’t know how he felt about that.
Hell, forget about the kid. Is she even single?
In his mere twenty-four hours as her neighbor, he hadn’t seen any man enter her house. Nor did one seem to be around now. So, maybe he wasn’t so off-target there. But the child? With Laila’s age, he’d assumed… Well, he’d assumed wrong.
He shook his head and used the slow search for his seat at the outdoor wedding area to clear his thoughts. Since his friendship with Dean was common knowledge, he’d start his seat-searching there, his hunch quickly proving correct.
He paused before his chair marked out with his name on a floral card at the table, his focus shifting from the empty seat to his left, and then farther along to a blonde woman he didn’t recognize. She wore a long, pale green dress, and had bright blue eyes. Despite her shorter and lighter hair, her features seemed strongly reminiscent of Laila. In a small town such as Harlow, perhaps it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume the two were related. A sister. Cousin, maybe?
Just as he settled into his chair and vowed to move on, Laila strode over, defying any expectation she might claim the empty seat beside him and taking the one opposite the blonde. Her daughter was nowhere to be seen, likely back inside dancing with the other kids.
Despite a strong awareness of her presence and the mild tugging in his chest, he made quick with adjusting his position so that his back stayed to her. Meanwhile, a series of low murmurs delivered snippets of the two women’s conversation. Something about how they’d visited this site as children. With their dad. So, definitely sisters.
Now the chatter livened and moved to how the empty seat next to him was marked for Chip Overton, the blonde’s ex, and a name Adrian recalled as the focus of the syndicate’s last attack on Harlow. The escalating violence, on top of Dean and Sarah’s past ordeal, had pushed Adrian to take up temporary residence in this town.
He caught the blonde’s name, Ally—no doubt the same Ally held hostage in the syndicate’s recent trap—before he vowed to stop eavesdropping and turned his mind to the glass of wine before him.
Laila’s attempts to hide her fatigue yesterday made a lot more sense now. The longer he thought, the more pieces fit together. The late shift she’d returned from. The backpack and books piled on the kitchen table, too big for any little girl no more than four years old. And while Laila and Ally had talked about Chip, there’d been no sign or mention of Laila having a partner.
Then there was her avoidance of being asked out, similar to the same, justified, defenses he’d witnessed as a child from his own mother. A denial of her more human vulnerabilities and needs. As if she could do it all and never require a break. Perhaps like his mother, there was a history of men who bailed whenever the realities of dating a single mom got too much. Though none of that was quite as painful as losing the one man with the most incentive to stay. The child’s father.
He was also making another huge assumption about why this woman might be single. Perhaps Laila here was a grieving widow. He’d encountered a fair few of those in his years serving. Perhaps she’d never be okay with dating again. With all the uncertainty attached to his job, maybe he’d be best to keep his distance too.
Time to remember why I’m here.
He’d come to this town to help his friend, Dean, and the woman he loved, Sarah—Dean having saved Adrian’s ass a number of times in their years serving together overseas. He’d come here to continue his life’s work of protecting the vulnerable. To provide extra muscle and the benefit of his contacts and experience in organized crime.
And even as he tried to keep his mind on this mission, Laila too seemed linked to his cause. The gravity of a woman raising a kid alone in a troubled town. What this whole syndicate thing must be to a woman like her, her own sister having already been kidnapped and still a likely target.
He sighed and drew his wine glass closer, aware that Laila didn’t seem to be the type to appreciate sympathy or offers of protection. And as much as she probably wouldn’t want either of those things, he also didn’t need any distraction, nor was it in any woman or child’s best interest to be linked to him.
Only knuckleheads get attached.
I could never forgive myself if they became a target.
He couldn’t make any wrong moves here. He’d have to go slow. Get a better read on this situation. And then maybe retire from the whole “protector” gig forever…
He scoffed into his wine glass and took his first sip, his idea on retiring not bad after all. Even if he did mostly trust his contacts, people under pressure were known to turn. He’d been lucky up until now, maybe too damn lucky. So perhaps he would stop testing his chances and dip out when all this syndicate business ended.
A small voice had him turning back to Laila. Her little girl had approached the table and now tugged at her mother’s arm. Once again, she wanted mom back on the dance floor. Laila resisted for a while longer, her focus clinging to her sister as though she held to the last dregs of adult conversation, before she gave in and followed her child.
His attention lingered on her back and his mind wandered to the responsibility and sacrifice someone in her position took on. That thought only held until his gaze dipped to Ally and the scrutiny in her eyes. She’d noticed his staring and clearly had opinions on the matter.
Despite his muscles stiffening at being caught, he raised a brow and challenged her to voice a problem with his interest in her sister. All Ally did was chuckle and shake her head, a pensive expression taking over as she stood. As much as she seemed to want to leave, a man stopped before her, his intense stare spurring Adrian to believe this was the infamous Chip.
Wanting to give these two some space, he found his feet and followed his instincts to Laila on the dance floor. The shock of her having a child had ebbed and he now considered himself capable of talking to her about it.
But he failed to enter the dance floor and instead watched her spin circles with her daughter in her arms. She lifted the child high and kissed her round cheeks, mother and child’s laughter rippling out like a gentle wave over his reservations. In spite of having every reason to give this woman her space, a smile out powered his doubts and before he knew it, he pushed his way through the small crowd.
An older woman stepped in his way, her brows and lips set in a firm line. Her prolonged stare held a softer, more concerned edge, one that told him to wait a moment, before she turned and whispered something into Laila’s ear.
Laila whipped around, her eyes wide and cheeks hollow, as her gaze landed on him. She hadn’t expected him to come back, like she’d assumed having a child would ward him off. And he assumed the woman who’d intervened just now was her mother, which likely only added to Laila’s surprise.
The older woman gave him a small nod while she spoke to Laila again, Laila’s face hardening as she replied and shook her head. Like her mother wanted her to give him a chance, while Laila seemed firmly against the idea.
She has every reason not to trust me. Likely any man, for that matter.
But the older woman grabbed his hand and jerked him forward, and in the next beat, took Laila’s daughter out of her arms and stalked away. As much as he wanted to chase that woman down and thank her, he held back any signs of gratitude so as not to tee-off Laila, instead extending his hand in an offer to dance.
Her stare fixed on his hand for the longest time, making his stomach churn like some awkward kid at prom just waiting for the brutal blow of her rejection. Eventually, her gaze narrowed, and she made eye-contact, the strain over her face quick to ease. “Oh. Fine.”
She grabbed at his hand and pulled him in, he chuckled at her abrasive approach and thanked his luck at the current slower music. “Just the sort of enthusiasm I look for in a woman.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smiling lips told a different story. “Most guys run the moment they find out about Whitney. What’s your deal?”
“You’re the one who ran, remember?” Given her reticence and the renewed scowl she pitched his way, as much as he wanted to, he tried not to run a thumb over where his hand connected with her back. Her daughter no doubt meant a great deal to her, and he couldn’t imagine the hurt of watching others run away over that same love. “Good people are few and far between, a child and potential ex on the periphery makes no difference. I’d like to find out if you’re one of those good people, Laila.”
As much as that seemed like an ideal moment to glide closer and claim the benefits of any potential adoration, he stepped back and slid his palms down her arms, taking hold of just one hand and twirling her around. The long hem of her bright blue dress kicked and fanned out, while he tried to not close his eyes and make a show of breathing in the billowing scent of her red apple and jasmine perfume.
Back at center, her gaze latched to his and her brows drew together, her collarbone working up and down as though she were a little breathless. “Lucky for you, exes aren’t a problem here.”
His world stilled a little as he pondered her statement. Perhaps, like his dad, Laila’s ex wanted nothing to do with her and his child. Or perhaps, his previous widow theory applied. Then again, her flat delivery spoke of resentment over grief.
Her brows dipped in a sign she saw his confusion, and she sucked in a breath, before replying, “Whitney’s dad went complete incommunicado. I don’t even know where he is.”
He had to work hard not to belay his anger through tightening his grip around her waist. He knew too well what that kind of abandonment did to a child and their remaining parent. It dented their trust in most people. Especially anyone trying to show romantic interest. That said, he wasn’t beyond trying to ease the weigh on this heavier conversation.
“Well, you know where I live, and I have a number you’re welcome to call.” He offered a ‘‘no pressure’’ sort of smile and slid his hand down to the small of her back, testing her reaction, which turned out to be nothing, and still a heck of a lot better than her slapping him away.
“Real smooth, buddy.” In spite of her sarcasm, she huffed out a reluctant laugh and her fingers did an encouraging curl into his shoulders.
The beauty of her deep blue eyes sent a hard pang through his chest. Even her small refusals triggered a protective urge in him. Now that he understood a little more about where her reluctance came from…
“So”—he spoke, but her gaze flittered to her girl sipping at a glass of juice on a barstool next to her grandmother. This woman worries. A lot. Not that he could blame her.
He dared to lift his hand and touch the softness of her jawline, bringing her attention back to him again—“How about that dinner? One that’s not care of Blaine and Emilia?”
Her lips lifted into a smile, one that added a soft glitter to the rich hue of her eyes, the joy there gone all too soon. “Adrian...”
His name from her lips should have made his heart sing, but the drawn-out dip in her tone only took all hope with it.
She shook her head slowly, only confirming his theories on lost hope. “I work a shitty night job and am studying my proverbial nuts off to graduate early. In between all that, I look after my kid. I don’t think you know what you’re asking of me here.”
“You’re wrong about that.” He gave a disingenuous shrug, a distinct heaviness dragging at his gut because he could feel her rejection closing in. “I know what I’m asking for. I’m asking for one dinner.”
“Okay”—She scoffed and peered down at his chest, still shaking her head as though she figured him one wooly brained fool—“Well, for starters, if you did know, you’d understand that my schedule isn’t exactly brimming with free time.”
“Because of the kid?” Starting to catch her point now, that this was more about her situation than a dislike of him, his next shrug came a whole lot easier. “Bring the kid with you.”
She pressed her lips into a flat line to match her flat stare. “The kid’s bedtime is seven.”
“Fine. Then we’ll do lunch.”
Though her lips rose into an incredulous smile, her brows bent with seeming skepticism. Just as she opened her mouth to reply—and most likely to turn him down—a random voice called loud across the room. “Hey, everyone. Ally and Chip are fighting over by the river.”
The public announcement, over quietly approaching Laila or her mother to defuse the situation, made him wonder if this might be one of those small-town things. You know, a love for anything new and dramatic. That anyone’s business was implicitly everyone’s business.
The fact that the other guests’ faces lit with glee seemed to confirm his theory.
“Oh, shit.” Laila jolted out of his hold and gathered her long hem into her hands, jogging away just as quickly and out the venue’s open doors.
Seconds passed before he abandoned his shock long enough to follow her through the outdoor table area and over a large lawn, where a horde of others milled about the party’s edge. Though he couldn’t hear past the nearby river sounds and people’s whispers, Ally stood before Chip crying, her every backward step taking her farther away from the man. Only, Chip drew nearer, his steps faster, as her face lost its hard edge of anger in time for him to pull her into a long and emotionally wrought kiss.
Adrian stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Laila, just as she whispered a breathy, “Wow.”
He twisted to find she held one hand pressed to her collarbone, her cheeks pale and slack, like a woman not usually stunned.
Though the crowd clapped and cheered for Chip and Ally’s reunion, Laila turned and peered up to him with a resigned sort of shrug. “Still want to ask me out?”