Broken Hero

“Now?”Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

“My aunt and uncle start working soon, and I can’t exactly slip in through the front door when they think I’m asleep upstairs. Besides-“she glances at the clock on my nightstand-“my shift starts in two hours.”

I tug her back and throw my leg over both of hers. Her skin is warm and soft against mine, and I want to fall back asleep. “What if I just keep you here instead?”

“Keep me prisoner?”

“This house has all the necessary amenities.” I kiss the small birthmark atop her right breast. “I wouldn’t break the Geneva convention.”

Lucy laughs again, and I smile in response. “I’ll happily surrender to you any other day.”

“I’ll take that as a promise.”

She cups my face with a soft hand. Her nails gently rasp against the scruff on my cheek. “You haven’t shaved,” she murmurs.

“No. I’ve been asleep.”

She rolls her eyes, but keeps exploring the side of my face. The way she’s looking at me… I could kill to keep her looking at me that way. I never want to lose it.

“I like it.” She bends to kiss me softly. “And now I must be off.”

Shorts are tugged up over those magnificent legs, a tank-top pulled on. I sigh and sit up. My t-shirt is draped over a chair in the corner, but my boxers are nowhere to be found. I grab a new pair from the drawer.

“Oliver?””Yes?”

“You can sleep in, you know. It’s very early.”

“I’m not about to let you bike back down to town in the middle of the night alone.”

She rolls her eyes again, tying her hair up. “It’s almost dawn.”

“Still.” I press a kiss to her temple and reach around to where my jeans hang. “I’m driving you home.”

Austin’s claws on the hardwood floor is the only sound in the dark house. It’s as quiet as it always is, but it doesn’t feel that empty anymore. Not with Lucy’s hand in mine and her scent clinging to me.

“You’re being silly,” she murmurs, but her voice is soft.

I grab the keys to the truck. “I’m not. Are you worried someone might see us?”

“No.””Well, then.”

I pick up her bike and stow it in the back of my truck. The ranch is dead quiet, all the guests asleep and reception closed.

Lucy puts her feet up on my dash and turns to look at me as I pull out. The road to Main Street is as familiar as the back of my hand.

“What are you thinking about?”

I tap the steering wheel. “That I wish you could have stayed all night.”

“Oh, Oliver.”

I don’t know what that means, or the soft sigh that follows, but I reach out and put a hand on her knee. The skin is distractingly soft beneath my palm. “No regrets?”

“None.”

“Good.”She’s quiet again as her hand covers mine. I look over and see her furrowed brow, her tentative expression. I think she’s about to ask me something-I just hope it’s something I can answer.

“How well do you know Gavin Whittaker?”

What?

“Better than I’d like to. Why?”

She looks out the window. “You’re not friends, then?”

“Hell, no. Why are you asking about him?” Of all people, she asks me about him… What had made her think of Gavin? Now? His disgusting words at the pub come back to me.

“Has he done something to you?”

“No. Well, yes, in a way. He came by the bakery yesterday.”

My hand tightens around the wheel. “Tell me what he said.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” She shakes her head. “Actually, it was awful, but I’m used to it.”

“Tell me.”

“He asked me if I accepted clients from town, and if I… if I gave any special services.” The last two words are whispered, her tone dripping with disgust. “I told him in no uncertain terms that I didn’t. I’m not sure he heard me.”

For a wild moment, I see red. Anger, raw and palpable, pulse through my body. I need to hit something-that something being Gavin Whittaker’s smug face.

“Oliver?””I’ll handle it.”

“I don’t want you to handle it.” She’s frowning when I glance over, eyes flickering from my face to my hand, still clutched too tight around the steering wheel. I force myself to relax. “I told him I don’t do that sort of thing, and that should be that.”

“Yes, maybe.” It won’t, with him, though. The lesson Logan and I had tried to impart earlier had clearly gone right over his head. “I’ll take to him.”

“I want to handle it myself.”

I force my breathing to calm, my anger to drain. “Alright.”

“I just wanted to tell you. If he calls up to reception to book a treatment, I’m not going to accept him as a client.” She looks determined. “Therapist’s prerogative.”

“He’ll never set foot on the ranch.”

“Thank you.””You handled it well. But Lucy… if he says anything else, if he even so much as looks your way-you let me know. I promise you that the second he crosses the line, I’ll handle him. ”

Her hand curls around mine. “I will.”