Her chin went up, and she straightened on a flood of emotion. What did he know about her? About her rig? The way she’d lost everything, everyone? Any of it? “It matters,” she hissed. Tears threatened, and she blinked furiously against them. She would not blubber, not with Cullen, this man foisted on her by circumstances she could not control. She folded her arms as if she could shield herself from the volcano, from him, from the truth that meant she’d be devastated. Again.
Unable to look at him, she stared at the “Libraries are good for circulation” magnet stuck crookedly on the door of the mini fridge. Jaw clenched, she willed him to leave.
Instead he sighed, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around her.
She was so shocked she couldn’t move.
It was both startling and comforting. All she could do was breathe, and tremble, and feel.
“I’m sorry for my tone,” he said quietly into her ear. “What’s going on here ... it’s beyond what anyone should have to absorb. Your truck means the world to you, I understand, but your life means more. Once we get out safely, I’ll help in any way I can to make things right.” To her amazement, he kissed her on the temple, then her forehead, his lips warm and soft against her skin. “Get some sleep. Archie and I can take care of Tot if she wakes. See you in a few hours.”
He padded away, pulling the curtain across the break room area.
She stared, transfixed by the warmth of his embrace, the wake of his touch. Confusion sparked through her.
“I’ll help in any way I canto make things right.”
Why did his words make her want to cry?
It wasn’t the tenderness, the earnestness. Perhaps the novelty of being cared for by a man? She hadn’t dated since her marriage dissolved. More like exploded. Rusty social muscles. That was it. Or was she merely an overwrought woman in an impossible situation whose emotions were all over the board?
Get some sleep.
Those three words made the most sense in her depleted condition. She climbed into the sleeping bag, finding the most level spot on the misshapen sofa.
A rolled-up sweatshirt served as her pillow.
For the first time in a very long time, she laced her fingers together. “God ... Annette and Tot ... don’t let them down.” An awkward prayer, wasn’t it? More of a demand? Completely lacking in whatever a proper prayer was supposed to have, probably. Another habit rusty from long disuse.
“They’re nobody’s property,” she added.
Whatever else she’d intended to say to God vanished as the world faded around her.
EIGHT
Cullen dreamed heheardsomeone talking to him.Go away,whoever you are.
When he was grabbed by the shirtfront and shaken, he swam into consciousness with an instinctive fist curled, ready to punch.
“Hit me, Cullen my boy, and I’ll gut you like a pike,” Archie whispered amiably. “Tot’s changed and back to snoozing and it’s your watch. Roll out, son.” Before Cullen got his second eye open, Archie had departed to his sleeping bag.
Cullen groaned. The hard floor, which had been a source of agony throughout the night, was magnetically pulling him back, but he fought against the lethargy and hauled himself to his knees. Another ungainly maneuver rendered him upright, but his body didn’t agree with the commands of his brain. Every inch of his miserable flesh, from his eyebrows to his heels, throbbed and ached and burned. He had to clamp his teeth together to keep from out and out lamenting. The downspout episode when he’d fallen like a sack of rocks had been more costly than he’drealized. “Lord God, gonna need help.” He curled a palm around the edge of the checkout desk for leverage.
A fragrance caught his nose, offering a sliver of hope.
Coffee.
He turned his head toward the smell of salvation.
Where? How? He didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the quickest way to get some down his gullet. He staggered toward the scent, smashed his socked foot on the corner of the desk, and jackknifed forward, toppling a lantern with his elbow. It seemed to tumble in slow motion toward a clattering landing that would mean the end of baby Tot’s peaceful slumber.
But the crash didn’t come. Instead, a slender palm darted out and deftly caught the lantern, then set it safely back in place. Better yet, the other hand delivered a mug of steaming coffee to the same countertop. He blinked, but the beautiful sight did not vanish. Not a dream.
“I woke up, so I got started packing. I made coffee while I was at it,” Kit whispered. “Want some?”
“You are now my new heir and executor. The brothers will be officially dropped from my will in favor of you,” he said reverently.
Her laugh was barely audible. “Wonder what I’d get if I could make you a latte. I’m a very skilled barista. I have an espresso machine in my rig. Come on.”
