the small of his back for a firearm that wasn’t where it should be and cursed. He was already halfway across the room, ready to yank her behind the protective wall of his body when the high-pitched sound of several female voices hit his ears.
“Ohmygod, Tatum, are you okay? Willow told us what happened outside the church. We texted to see if you needed anything.”
“We were going to wait until morning to come by, but when you didn’t respond...”
“We got worried...”
The women ran over each other, one sentence blending seamlessly into the next as if they were one person instead of three speaking.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell us you were married? I wouldn’t have tried so hard to set you up with my cousin Matt.”
“Because that’s why you should have kept Matt away from her, not because he’s a pretentious jerk.”
The three women rushed inside Tatum’s house. They were all clad in the same dress she’d been wearing not an hour ago. A blonde with amazing curves reached for Tatum, setting hands on her shoulders and peering intently into her eyes. “Seriously, are you okay?”
The tall, thin brunette she’d been with earlier reached around them both, running a hand softly down Tatum’s arm to grasp her hand. “What do you need?”
The other woman pressed in tight, forming a protective knot of femininity with Tatum in the center. Evan fought the urge to wade through them all and pull her out. He didn’t know any of these people and didn’t like having them stand between him and his wife.
Behind the commotion, two men in dark suits hovered. They moved slower, quietly closed the door and stood to the side, observing in a way that told him they were used to these kinds of female displays of excitement and solidarity. He saw acceptance tinged with exasperation and a little bafflement.
None of the women had noticed him yet, but the men sized him up as soon as they walked in.
With silent agreement, they scooted around the cluster of women to present a wall of male power that had his hands preemptively tightening into fists. Instinct drove him to counter with his own display, but something told him Tatum wouldn’t appreciate a testosterone-fueled show.
Frustration kicked through his stomach, but he clamped down hard on it. Lots of practice at that.
“I’m assuming you’re her husband,” the darker of the two men said softly. There was something about him that Evan recognized, appreciated. A dangerous edge that told him he could take care of his own if needed.
The other guy was a bit bigger, but not by much. He seemed...softer wasn’t the right word because neither of them were teddy bears. He didn’t have quite the same edge as the other man, although Evan wouldn’t want to meet either of them in a dark alley alone.
Not that he couldn’t take them—together if necessary.
“Evan Huntley,” he said, stepping forward and offering his hand.
Neither of them took it. They simply stared at him.
The female chatter behind them screeched to a halt. Several pairs of eyes peered around the wall of masculinity, including Tatum’s wide, unhappy green eyes.
“Oh shit,” one of the women breathed.
“You’ve got that right,” another agreed.
“Tatum never mentioned she had a husband,” the bigger guy said, his wide mouth pulled down into a deep frown.
Evan realized what the man was fishing for was an explanation, but considering he hadn’t even given the whole thing to Tatum yet he wasn’t about to spill to a stranger—several strangers.
“Willow said you were dead. Supposed to be dead.”
An unhappy smile tugged at the edges of his lips. “Which would explain why Tatum never mentioned me.”
The curvy blonde poked her head around the tall guy, laying a hand on his arm in a comfortable, possessive gesture that immediately told him they were together. “Not really.”
He pinned his wife with a sharp gaze. “I’m sure she had her reasons for not telling you about her past.” All eyes swung around to her. Any other woman might have squirmed beneath the weight of that scrutiny, but not Tatum. She kept her expression bland and stared back, mouth shut and spine straight.
Apparently realizing they weren’t getting anywhere with her, the focus quickly returned to him.
He’d faced down terrorists, murderers, drug dealers and rapists—singly and in groups larger than this one. But for some reason, his palms began to sweat and a cold trickle of unease whispered down his spine.
Not because he honestly thought they’d do him any harm, but because he was afraid their opinion could sway Tatum, and without knowing anything about them, he couldn’t begin to guess their response to the messy affair.
Shaking her head, Tatum pushed between the two guys. “While I appreciate the chivalry act, I don’t need it. Willow, Lexi, can you please control your men?”
The blonde snorted. “Fat chance.”
Maybe it was time he offered something. “Let me assure everyone Tatum has nothing to fear from me. I’m not here to hurt her.”
Willow frowned. “You already have.”
TATUM WAS EXHAUSTED, mentally and physically. It had taken quite a while to convince the cavalry she’d be fine with Evan and get them to finally leave. By then it was after midnight and all she wanted was a soft pair of pajamas and her warm bed.
Yes, she still had questions—plenty of them—but just from the little he’d already told her, it was obvious she was going to need a clear head for the answers.
It was awkward, setting Evan up in her guest bedroom, but no matter how he looked at her, she wasn’t letting him back in her bed. Certainly not until they talked. And probably not even then.
He was different. Harder, colder, though she had seen flashes of the honorable, dedicated man she’d fallen in love with at seventeen underneath the new layers. Sighing, Tatum supposed she was different, as well. They were both evidence that a lot could happen in three years.
Deciding their conversation was probably better saved for the morning when her brain would be less fuzzy, she’d convinced him to wait. The sharp set of his mouth had broadcast just how unhappy he’d been about her decision, but at least he hadn’t argued.
Tatum slipped beneath the sheets, fully expecting to drop right to sleep. Exhaustion pulled at her muscles, but her brain wouldn’t shut up. Thoughts, possibilities and fears, spun like an EF-5 tornado, shredding her composure and leaving her just as devastated as any broken landscape.
Maybe she should have just gotten it over with.
Too late now. No doubt Evan was fast asleep. He’d always been the kind of guy who was out the moment his
