I tilt my head. “Try me.”
Graham’s smile returns, too smooth. He steps forward and extends his hand like we’re at a business meeting.
The gesture is calculated. Public. Performative. Meant to make me look like the aggressive one if I refuse.
I take it anyway.
His grip is firm. His palm is dry.
He leans in, voice dropping so only I can hear, pleasant as a threat.
“Temporary husbands don’t stop me.”
Chapter 10
Ellie
Wyatt’s hand is still wrapped around Graham’s when Graham leans in and says something I can’t hear.
I don’t need to.
I can read it on Graham’s face—the calm cruelty, the private satisfaction, the way he thinks he can smile his way through anything because the town loves a man in a suit who speaks in “reasonable” tones.
Wyatt’s posture changes. It’s subtle if you don’t know him. If you don’t know what a firefighter looks like right before he walks into flames.
But I know.
His shoulders lock. His jaw hardens. His eyes go darker, colder, like a switch flips fromhusbandtothreat.
My fingers are still curled around Wyatt’s forearm behind his back, and I tighten them without meaning to.
Wyatt releases Graham’s hand slowly. Too slowly. Like he’s deciding whether to break something.
Graham steps back with that polished grin. “Anyway,” he says, loud enough for the shop to hear, “Ellie. We should talk privately.”
I laugh once, sharp and ugly. “No.”
Graham’s brows lift with that fake surprise he does so well. “Sweetheart?—”
Wyatt moves before I can speak. One step, and he’s closer. Not threatening on paper. Not in court. But in real life, in a small-town chocolate shop with witnesses and air that suddenly feels too thin.
“Don’t call her that,” Wyatt says, voice flat.
Graham’s smile stays in place. “I’ve called her that for years.”
Wyatt doesn’t blink. “Not anymore.”
Levi, the menace, is leaning against a shelf like he paid for front-row seats. Sadie stands near the doorway, arms crossed, expression calm but eyes sharp like she’s clocking every move Graham makes.
Graham’s gaze flicks to the flannel on my body, then to the way I’m behind Wyatt, and something in his face tightens—just for a second. The mask slips. Possession flashes.
Then the mask comes back.
“You’re playing house,” Graham says smoothly. “This is… cute. But you know she’ll come back. She always does.”
Heat crawls up my neck. My hands ball into fists inside the oversized sleeves. “I didn’t ‘always’ come back. I stayed too long.”
Graham’s eyes narrow slightly. “Ellie. Be careful.”
