Rae and Lennix shared a look, matching knowing smirks curving their lips. “I believe Raylan’s exact words were that he seemed really protective of you. And not just in a cop way.”
Hearing that shouldn’t have made my stomach feel like a million butterflies had just taken flight, but it did. That voice in the back of my head told me I shouldn’t be happy, but this time, instead of listening to her, I slapped a piece of duct tape over her mouth and stuffed her into a closet.
I’d never been much of a poker player, and they clearly read everything I was feeling all over my face.
Lennix closed the distance between us and linked her arm through mine, leading me away from the room I’d been cleaning. “Oh, honey. We havesomuch to talk about. I think it’s time for you to spill the tea. But over coffee, because I don’t actually drink tea.”
I twisted to look back at the guest room that was getting farther and farther away with each step. “I don’t know. I really need to finish?—”
“You’re on lunch,” she insisted. “And we aren’t going far. The coffee shop off the lobby might not be as good as Muffin Top, but it’s nothing to sneeze at.”
“Ivy won’t mind,” Rae added. “In fact, I just texted her the bullet points, and she’s on her way down. She wants to hear all about this too.”
Lennix patted my hand before I could have second thoughts and smiled up at me. “I like you,” she announced. “I can already tell. We’re going to be good friends.”
For some reason, I actually believed that.
And the thought didn’t scare the hell out of me. I found myself actually looking forward to it.
Chapter Eighteen
Tristan
Everything about Rochelle Winslow’s lobby felt like it belonged on the ground floor of a Manhattan high-rise, not tucked away in a single floor building in the middle of our small rural town.
I didn’t know much about interior design, but from where I stood, it was obvious this Rochelle woman had some taste. The whole place screamed class and sophistication.
“Tristan,” Merritt whispered my name. “I don’t know about this.” I turned from the decor to the woman standing beside me. Apprehension was pouring off of her in waves, uncertainty swam in those pale sage eyes.
“Hey.” I reached out and took her chin between my fingers, gently turning her head to meet my gaze. “If you’re not ready for this, that’s fine. We’re moving at a pace you’re comfortable with here. Just say the word and we’re out.”
I’d accepted the fact that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for this woman. Even if it meant cancelling our appointment with one of the top family lawyers in the area. As much as I hated the idea of her remaining married to that fucker for longer than absolutely necessary, I’d do whatever she felt most comfortable with.
“No, it’s not that. I’m ready for this, believe me.” My shoulders slumped with relief. “It’s just...” Her gaze darted from mine as she admitted, “I don’t think I’ll be able to afford this woman.”
My thumb traced along her jawline. “Dandelion, that isn’t somethin’ you need to worry about.”
Her eyes flared, then narrowed. “Of course it’s something to worry about. People tend to get upset when they don’t get paid for a job they’ve done,” she snapped at me.
I chuckled, happy to see a bit of that fire in her return. Even if it was directed at me. I’d let her burn me day after day if it kept that fire going and prevented her from closing in on herself again. I couldn’t stand the thought of her reverting back to the shell of the Merritt when we first met.
“I mean, you don’t have to worry about it because it’s already being taken care of.”
She stepped away from my touch and slammed her hands down on her hips. “Tristan Fanning. What did you do?” she asked in a tone that was scarily reminiscent of the one my mom used on me more times than I could count growing up.
“It wasn’t only me,” I defended. “It was Blythe too.” I held up my hand before she could argue. “And before you say you can’t accept, or that it’s too much, or find any excuse not to let us help, you should know, it won’t matter. The retainer’s already been paid.”
And it was a small fortune. But there wasn’t any amount my sister and I weren’t willing to shell out to get Merritt free of that monster. Rochelle Winslow was the best, and Merritt needed the best. I had no doubt Warren was going to try and make this as painful as possible, and my girl needed someone capable and willing to go to the mat and fight for her so she didn’t have to do it herself.
She scowled, doing her best to remain mad, but I could see she was wavering. “I can’t believe you’d do that. I could never ask?—”
I took one long stride, closing the distance she’d put between us and cupped her cheeks in my hands, bringing my face close to hers. “That’s the point, sweetheart. You never would have asked. You would have worked yourself to the bone and sacrificed to try and do it yourself. But you don’t have to do that. You aren’t alone anymore, Merritt. You have people who want to help, who care about you.” My throat worked on a swallow. “Icare about you,” I stressed, my voice gruffer than normal. “I don’t regret what I did. I’d do it again a million times over. And so would Blythe.”
The way she melted into my touch made it so hard not to lean in and kiss her the way I’d been dreaming of for weeks. It sparked to life the part of me I’d struggled to keep snuffed out, that part that wanted her more than I wanted my next breath. Keeping that in check had been a battle since the moment I met her, but it had gotten so much worse since the morning I woke up with her in my arms. That one night with her in my bed was all it had taken for me to become addicted, and I hadn’t slept for shit without her in the two weeks since.
That candied orange peel scent that lingered on my sheets and pillow had helped, but once the smell of her faded away, I spent my nights tossing and turning. I had it so damn bad I’d considered sneaking into her room to find her perfume, so I could spray it all over my bed.
“You just keep getting better,” she said on a quiet breath.