Page 25 of Colton's Secret Weapon
Mitchell had had no intention of taking Dove up on her offer to cook for him. Didn’t want to cross paths with her in his home at all, if he could avoid doing so.
But the whiteness around her lips had been so stark, the blank look in her eyes so acute, he’d seen an emotional break down looming and had felt compelled to distract her.
He’d blurted out shopping plans on the fly.
And had forestalled disaster once again.
Because that’s who he was. The prevention guy. His whole life. While his brothers and cousins went brazenly about their lives, to face danger and win, not just against nature, but against odds, too, Mitchell was the one who watched out for them all. Looking for dangers that would beat them, and doing all he could to make sure that that didn’t happen. Just as he did before and during every single time out he took for himself.
Maybe if someone had paid a little more attention to the guy Aunt Caroline had said was stalking her…
What the hell?
Pulling into the grocery store parking lot right behind Dove St. James, Mitchell put an immediate halt on his train of thought. He was the prevention guy because he liked the law. Liked facing cerebral dangers, pitting himself against them and winning.
Just as his family did with nature.
Nothing to do with an aunt he’d never met.
Two days with Dove St. James—three really, if you counted their initial meeting in his office—and he was starting to sound as flighty as she did.
It was one thing needing to put himself into a clients’ mindset professionally in order to predict what might befall them, but quite another to adopt that mindset personally.
But then, Dove wasn’t officially a client yet. And, if Mitchell had his way, she never would be. Whaler might be. Down the road.
They weren’t down the road.
He was walking into the grocery store with the man’s daughter. Preparing to buy food for her to prepare for him.
To keep her focused and as calm as possible while they waited to hear back from Kansas. And Welding. And Eli, who was reporting in on whoever was heading up the Fletcher part of things.
Because, until they knew the extent of the danger she could be facing, he’d opted to be the one to provide safer housing for her.
Right.
She chose interesting food items as she filled their cart. Other than her earlier query as to how he liked his vegetables cooked, she hadn’t deferred to him even once.
About to question and give input, he stood back instead. Literally. Walked a step behind her as she made her way through the store. Curious to see what came next.
And later, after they got home.
If he didn’t like dinner, he’d pull something out of the freezer. Order in. Fill up on trail food, for that matter.
Mostly, he didn’t want to disturb her mojo. Whatever she had going on in that oddly captivating head of hers, it was workingto her benefit. The color had returned to her face. Lines of strain were dissipating from her cheeks. Her shoulders had relaxed. He wasn’t going to be the one to mess that up.
Not unless he had to. By way of preventing something worse.
Like the shopping cart that was suddenly flying down the aisle, coming right at the display of cans that… “Dove!” He hollered, and dived forward, catching her around the waist, throwing them both into a ground roll that took them to the end of the aisle.
A woman screamed, cans crashed. Mitchell saw a pair of black boat shoes fly by. Someone running away, not stopping to help.
In the next second Mitchell was only aware of the soft, womanly body clinging to his with both arms and legs wrapped around him.
And for the first time in his life worried about what in the hell he’d gotten himself into.
The screaming stopped.
“Dove! Are you okay?” Hearing the voice from far off, recognizing it but unable to place it, Dove loosened her death grip on the man who’d saved her and rolled off him and up onto her feet.
