educated...get out.”
“Why are you here then?” Maybe he’d get to the truth. Probably not. Cosette was working pitifully hard to conceal something. She wasn’t bound to crack anytime soon, and ribbing her would only prolong it. And yet he couldn’t help himself. The deep desire to know, to protect, to fix whatever ailed her nagged him half to death.
“I miss the music.”
“Pandora station right there on your phone.”
“I like my music live.”
“Buy a live album.”
She scowled and ignored his remark. He peeled his shrimp and ate. Spicy enough to open his sinuses.
Several more former students made their way to the table and chatted with Cosette. Every time, she seemed afraid, and she never stopped scanning the woods, the crowds. Finally, after eating a piece of key lime pie, she excused herself to the restroom, and Wilder went straight for the cherry crisp. She hadn’t returned by the time he’d eaten that and drunk a cup of punch, so he strode toward the restrooms and caught a blonde coming out.
“Have you seen Cosette? Cosette LaCroix?” Something was wrong, burning his gut like acid, and it wasn’t the Cajun food.
“She’s not in there.” A sly grin slid across the woman’s face. “I think I saw her talking to Beau Chauvert earlier. She may have slipped off with him. Old Beau—in many ways. But she’d be crazy to go with him. Not with a man like you at her side.”
Wilder wanted to say “Go home, lady, you’re drunk.” But she’d probably think it was full of innuendo. “Thanks,” he said instead and darted behind the restrooms. Where could she be? He knew Cosette well enough to know she wouldn’t slip into the dark with any man willingly.
* * *
“Beau! Let go of me!” Cosette hollered as her high school boyfriend hauled her farther into the woods. She clawed at his beefy arms, sickened at his booze-laced breath.
“I just wanted to talk to you. To dance. I’ve missed you.”
Her blood froze. The first line in the note she’d received... Did she have it all wrong? Had Beau sent the card?
“But you don’t want to talk. Or dance with the likes of me. I’m not good enough for you now.” He shoved her against a tree. “I used to be very good for you.”
Cosette’s stomach roiled and the bark dug into the thin fabric of her dress.
“You are lookin’ so fine. Little thicker than I remember, but I’m not complaining.”
“Beau,” she said, trying to remain calm. To see him as a hostile patient. “You’re drunk. Why don’t you sleep it off, and we can talk tomorrow when you’re sober. I’m in town a couple more days.” But she wouldn’t be seeing him, that was for sure.
He released his grip and she stepped away from the tree, her heart racing. She slowly backed out of the woods.
Beau stepped forward and grabbed her forearm. She’d have bruising tomorrow. “You think you’re all uppity now? I know what you really are.”
Brush and twigs snapped.
Cosette would recognize the imposing figure a mile away.
“You have less than a second to take your hands off her,” Wilder said, his voice low and menacing. The man could be boyish and charming, and in an instant, menacing and terrifying. It sent a zing into her middle.
Beau was a bully. This wouldn’t end well—for Beau.
“And just what are you gonna do about it?” he spat, spittle landing in dots on Cosette’s neck.
In a blink, Wilder had inserted himself between the two of them. He faced Beau, put his palm flush against Cosette’s belly and guided her behind him, leaving his hand resting against her. The feel of his warmth seeping through the fabric of her dress brought her comfort as well as butterflies.
“When I was in fourth grade, two sixth grade bullies would take my milk money. Every. Single. Day.”
Where in the world was this going?
“You know what I did about it?”
Uh-oh.
“Nothing.”
Beau chuckled. “And you’re gonna do nothin’ about this, either. This is between me and my old lady.”
Wilder’s face appeared relaxed, except for that one little tick in his jaw when Beau called her his. She wasn’t his. She belonged to nobody but herself.
Wilder cocked his head, pressed his hand more firmly into her belly as he guided her another step back. “The reason I did nothing wasn’t out of fear. I didn’t care because...I just don’t like milk.”
“Wilder,” Cosette whispered. Now was not the time for one of his many anecdotes.
“But then they started bullying the milk money from my sister Meghan, and Meghan loved her chocolate milk. Every day at one fifteen. So I had to get involved. Because she was my baby sister and I cared about her.”
Uh-oh. His voice had changed. Become deeper. Sinister. He was going to—
He wrenched Beau’s arm behind his back and slammed him face-first into a tree. Beau cried out. “Now, if I apply just a bit more pressure—” Wilder said.
Beau cried out again.
“—your elbow’s gonna break. It’s excruciating. Or you can apologize to the lady—who doesn’t belong to you and is far from old—and not only leave the area but the event. Do you understand?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Beau nodded profusely.
By now, a small crowd had gathered. Cosette’s cheeks heated.
“And don’t drive drunk.” He let up on Beau. Beau turned and swung.
Wilder grabbed his fist and put him on the ground, then planted his foot on Beau’s back like a weight. “Can one of you spectators come take this jerk home before he gets himself killed?”
Not that Wilder would kill him. But he was furious. A cold and quiet kind of fury. She’d seen it before. Much more frightening than someone blowing a gasket.
One of Beau’s old buddies stepped up. “I—I can.”
Wilder raked his hand through his hair and put his arm around Cosette. “Let’s go buy a red velvet cake and two forks.” He said it as if he hadn’t just been involved in an altercation.
“That’s my favorite cake,” she said and leaned into him as they blew past her gaping classmates, loathing herself for resting in his strength and comfort. She didn’t want to need him or have these feelings stirring inside her. Wilder gave her security, and if she lapped it up, she’d be a lost puppy. Nope. Not happening. Time to get a handle on her feelings ASAP.
“I
