She tried to pull her hand back, but I held on. Not hard. Just enough. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t really fight me.
“I’m taking a break,” I said.
“From the journal?”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
I looked at the closed book between us, then at her. “Long enough to drink fresh coffee, eat whatever you’re threatening me with, and watch you pretend you don’t like me sitting here.”
“I don’t like you sitting here.”
“Liar.”
Her cheeks flushed, and damn if that didn’t make something warm stir in my chest despite the weight sitting on top of it.
Pati called Trudy from behind the counter, and the moment broke. Trudy stood, but I didn’t let go right away. She looked down at me, and for once, neither of us hid behind much of anything.
“You’ll be okay for five minutes?” she asked.
“No.”
Her face softened.
“But I’ll still be sitting here when you get back.”
She nodded once, then squeezed my hand before pulling away.
I watched her walk back to the counter, watched Pati glance between us with too much interest, watched Trudy snap something at her that made the girl grin. The bakery noise came back slowly. Cups, voices, the bell, the hum of ovens from the kitchen.
I looked down at the journal again.
The rest was coming.
But not yet.
For the first time since opening Christina’s journal, I let the past wait.
And I reached for the bear claw.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Trudy
A week had passed since Stephen had last read the journal.
One week of Stephen Hartley moving through my life like he owned it, and I was starting to think maybe he did.
He’d been everywhere—in my bed, in my kitchen, at the bakery, in my thoughts when I should have been focused on anything else. The man was relentless. Possessive in a way that should have set off every alarm bell I had, but instead just made me feel... wanted.
Claimed.
His.
God, when had I become the kind of woman who liked being claimed?
But I did. I couldn’t deny it anymore.
