Preston’s jaw tightened. For a long moment, he just stood there, and I could practically see his brain working through the situation. Running calculations. Assessing variables. That was how Preston operated. Everything was a problem to be solved.
But there was no solving this. Not when a man twice his size was staring him down with a look that promised violence.
“I’ll come back,” Preston finally said. “When you’re not…when we can talk privately.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said.
“Elsa.” His voice had that patient, reasonable tone I’d heard a thousand times. “You left without any real closure. I just need to understand?—”
“She said there’s nothing to talk about.” Briggs’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer against his chest. “You heard her.”
Preston looked at me one more time, something wounded in his expression. Then he nodded once, turned, and walked out the door.
The second he was gone, I let out a breath. My whole body sagged with relief, and for a moment I just sat there on this stranger’s lap, trying to remember how to breathe.
Then reality came crashing back.
I was sitting on a man’s lap. A man I barely knew. A man whose hand was still pressed against my hip like it belonged there.
“Oh god.” I tried to scramble off him, mortification flooding through me. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I just?—”
But his arm tightened, keeping me in place. “Hold up.”
I froze, my hands braced against his chest. Beneath my palms, I could feel his heartbeat—steady and strong. Nothing like my own, which was racing so fast I thought I might pass out.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“Nobody.”
“Didn’t look like nobody.” His eyes searched my face, and there was something in his gaze I couldn’t quite read. Not anger, though I’d half expected that. Something warmer. More curious. “You’re shaking.”
I was. I hadn’t even noticed until he said it, but my hands were trembling against his shirt.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically. “Really. I just…I panicked. I’m sorry I dragged you into whatever that was.”
“Don’t apologize.” His thumb traced a small circle on my hip, almost absently, and I felt the touch everywhere. “Just tell me if I need to worry about him walking back through that door.”
I opened my mouth to tell him it was nothing. That Preston was harmless. That I’d handled it and he could go back to brooding alone in the corner.
But something about the way he was looking at me made the lie stick in my throat.
“He’s an ex,” I finally admitted. “From Charlotte. I ended things months ago, but he…” I shook my head. “He doesn’t really take no for an answer.”
Briggs’s expression darkened. “He hurt you?”
“No. Not like that. He’s not dangerous, he’s just…” I struggled to find the right word. “Persistent. He thinks if he’s patient enough, logical enough, I’ll eventually see that we belong together. He doesn’t understand that I just don’t feel that way about him. I never did.”
The admission hung between us. I hadn’t meant to say that much. I didn’t know why I had. Maybe it was the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Maybe it was the way Briggs was looking at me like he actually wanted to hear the answer.
“So you moved here to get away from him?”
“Partly.” I let out a small laugh. “Mostly I came here to get away from everything. My parents. Their expectations. The life I was supposed to want.” I gestured vaguely at the roadhouse around us. “This wasn’t exactly the plan. But it’s the first place that’s ever felt like mine.”
He was quiet for a long moment, studying me with those dark eyes. I was suddenly very aware that I was still sitting on his lap, that his arm was still around my waist, that my hands were still pressed against the solid wall of his chest.
I should move. I really should move.
“Elsa.” The way he said my name, low and rough, made something flutter in my stomach. “He’s going to come back.”
