“If you’re worried about Clara?—”
“Every second of every day I’m worried about Clara,” he interrupted me. “But right now, I’m worried aboutyou.”
My breath left my lungs, a faint ringing in my ears. Did he say that? He just said that.
Beau Shaw. Worried about me. Beau Shaw was demandingwego to a police station. To get a restraining order against Waylon. I didn’t even know if it would work across states; my legal knowledge should’ve been a little better, considering I had an estranged husband who was known to be violent.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I whispered. “I’m fine.”
His eyes were glued to mine. “You’re physically fine because you’re living under my roof, and I’m going to ensure you stay that way.” When he ran his eyes up and down my body, I shivered.
“But, Hannah, you are not fine.” His eyes went to his feet as he rubbed the back of his neck. “A restraining order is a bullshit piece of paper that won’t do any good if he really wants to hurt you, but it’s something. It’s something that will help your case in finally getting you divorced.” His steely eyes returned to mine. “We’ll get a lawyer to work on that when we’re done with the restraining order. I’ve got a friend, he’s good. We’ll work on the credit card shit too.”
My palms grew sweaty as I stood from the bed. It only then occurred to me that we should’ve been on equal footing. I shouldn’t have been sitting on my bed with Beau standing there spouting orders at me like I was a child.
I was a capable, independent woman. One who’d had to take a live-in nanny job to get money for school and one who couldn’t extricate herself from a sad and bitter man, but a capable, independent woman, nonetheless. And although it was my secret wish to be taken care of, I still had my pride.
“I can get myself a lawyer,” I told him stubbornly.
Although he continued regarding me evenly, without judgment, anger simmered beneath his surface. I was pretty sure he wasn’t angry at me. He was maybe angry about the situation. Fuck, perhaps he was angry at me for taking him out of his comfortable little bubble which was the restaurant, his family, and Clara.
“You can,” he nodded. “If you dip into savings I’m betting is earmarked for school. He’s not taking that from you. I’m not letting him. Like I said, Marty is a friend of mine. Owes me a favor.”
I folded my own arms. “A friend. Ofyours?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “There are a few people who can tolerate my company.”
I stifled a grin, finding bantering with him immensely enjoyable. “Well, as much as I’m interested in meeting that person, I’ll have to politely decline both offers.” I tilted my chin up in defiance.
Beau looked at me for a long moment before he took one step forward. Then another. Until he was not only in my room but in my space. He’d never set foot in here before, and he certainly had never willingly steppedthatclose to me. Unless you counted last night when his front was plastered to my back, when he protectively moved me behind his body. Unless you counted thenight when I slept encased in his arms. Unless you counted when he fell asleep with his head in my lap. Which I didn’t. I did my best not to think of those scenarios.
When Beau’s eyes blazed into mine, my lungs forgot how to function. His scent assaulted my senses, and his size dwarfed me in a way that made me feel small and delicate but not in danger.
“They weren’t offers, Hannah,” he rasped. “They were orders. You’re going to follow them. You’re going to put on a fucking sweater, jacket, and shoes, then you’re going to come down to the police station with me to get that restraining order.”
The organ in my chest felt like it was trying to escape.
“Then we’ll meet Marty. After that, we’re going to pick Clara up from my dad’s house, get a pizza, and watch a movie.” He stared at my lips, which were parted and rapidly trying to expel air so I didn’t faint.
I was annoyed. At the list of demands. Or so I told myself.
Except I wasn’t. Not even a little bit.
“You gonna do as I say, Hannah?” He leaned forward. My nerve endings trembled, and my pussy clenched in arousal.
Slowly, I nodded, unable to believe what was happening.
“Good girl,” Beau murmured into my ear as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind it. My mouth pooled with saliva as he lingered there for half a second, then he was gone.
How getting a restraining order against my husband could become one of the best days of my life was a mystery for the ages.
The experience at the police station was nothing like I’d expected. Unfortunately, I’d had more than one experience at a police station. I’d been there a few times when I was a child, sitting beneath fluorescent lights, scared, cold, hungry, andneeding to use the bathroom. My mother had been picked up for drunk driving, disturbing the peace, and on one occasion, solicitation. I was never put in foster care, aside from a couple of overnight placements. I’d always wondered how that had happened. I’d imagined my mother had fought for me, because I meant something to her, because she wanted to be better. But she never was.
Yet I kept hoping.
Because I was a little girl, desperate for her mother to love her. Save her.
Then there were the times I’d picked up Waylon from the drunk tank. He’d always gotten off easy because, for all his shortcomings, he was charismatic when he needed to be. Amenable. Friends with half the people at the police station. One of the benefits of living in a small town.
