Page 36 of Island Protector

“Assuming you behave,” Molly felt obliged to add. What was the use in being a mother if she couldn’t spoil the fun once in a while?

When Bryce—looking greatly aggrieved—marched off with Sharon, Knox sat forward. “If you’re up for it, I have a couple of questions,” he said.

“For me or Miles?” Molly asked.

“You.” That easy smile didn’t fool her this time. His gaze was sharp. He was here for more than a catch-up with a friend. “First, about the accident. Do you remember anything about the car that struck you last night?”

Molly resisted the automatic reflex to shake her head. “No. Just the sudden flare of headlights and then metal crunching. Everything was a blur.”

“He used the car like a battering ram to dump the car in the ditch,” Miles said under his breath.

“I noticed.” Knox flattened his palms on the table. “Guardian Agency,” he reminded her. As if she could forget. “I went by the scene earlier today.”

“Why?” Jess had arranged for a lawyer, not a bodyguard. “What am I missing?”

“Mainly because I was close. Gamble and Swann asked me to take a look around and gather any additional information for the research team.”

That made sense. For most people it probably made sense without causing a headache. She’d be thrilled when her concussion healed. “I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help.”

“It was a long shot,” Knox said. “If you do think of anything just let me know.” He handed her a business card. “Or you can tell Jess.”

“Or me,” Miles said.

“That works too.” With a wink, Knox excused himself.

Miles stood as well, scooting his chair under the table. His forearms flexed a little as he gripped the top rail of the chair back. Why did she find that so appealing? She should say something friendly. Ask him if she’d imagined what he’d said at the clinic last night. Instead, she stared. At his arms.

“You’ve got a great kid,” Miles said into her awkward silence. “Tell him I’ll see him around.”

“Let me walk you out.”

“I can find my way.” He smiled. “You should rest. It’s obvious we wore you out.”

Great. Her exhaustion was obvious. Just what every woman wanted to hear. Though he spoke from a caring place, this coddling from all sides was wearing thin already. She was used to managing herself and her family. Didn’t know how to sit back and wait for her body to heal.

It hadn’t been all that long ago when Nina had complimented her for being strong and independent. An inspiration. The comments had floored her at first. Before she’d taken some time to see just how well she’d done for herself and Bryce. Most days she even believed she was an asset to Sharon.

And now she was back to being a burden, reliant on everyone.

She tried to dismiss the negativity as an echo of her mother’s voice. One benefit of her unexpected pregnancy was her determination to do better for the baby growing inside her.

And she had, damn it.

Bryce was well-adjusted, bright, and caring. He had good friends—of all ages, apparently. Last night’s accident wasn’t her fault. The resulting injuries keeping her out of work weren’t her fault. And the stupid custody situation wouldnotget the best of her.

Although her head did hurt a little, she trailed after Miles. Out on the porch, the cool night air wrapped around her and she soaked up the sounds of the Carolina coast. The lower light eased the pressure behind her eyes.

She breathed deeply, appreciating the unique magic in this particular strip of the Atlantic coastline. Maybe her love of this town was rooted in Sharon’s generosity, but Molly liked to believe it was more that she’d found the place where she fit.

From her first day, Brookwell had felt different. It was a sweet pocket of calm when everything around her had been storming.

An illusion of course. Life was unpredictable. Good and bad things happened here too, just like everywhere else. The car accident only proved her point. And having a rambunctious and curious son made every day a little more unpredictable.

“Miles.”

At the bottom step of the porch he paused, turning to face her. Her gaze rested on his hand gripping the rail and she imagined his calloused palm coasting over her skin.

Why was she so fascinated by the man’s hands? She really needed to stop fixating. Much as she’d like to blame it on the concussion, it would be a lie.

---