ordinary is going to seem like you’re hiding.”
“Because I want to be hiding.”
“You could leave town.”
“But my dad...”
“So the Gala it is.”
Reggie was quiet for a long moment before sitting up abruptly, a hopeful look on her pretty face. “You could come with me.”
Brayden frowned. “I don’t think I’m on the guest list.”
“The invite was for a plus-one.”
He started to protest, then realized that the idea actually had appeal. On multiple levels. He could stick close to Reggie. He might even get a chance to speak to Garibaldi directly—something he’d been trying to do for a week without success.
He nodded. “All right.”
Relief filled her face. “Do you have a suit?”
“I do. And I’m even willing to put it on. But first. The phone call to your friend. I’ll go grab my cell from outside.”
He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze as he pushed to his feet, and before he could stop himself, he bent down to tuck her hair behind her ear. For a second, she looked startled. Then she smiled up at him. A small, appreciative look that carried up to her eyes, and warmed him from the inside.
“Thank you, Brayden,” she said. “Again.”
“No problem.”
He slipped out of the cabin, his mind working to process what she’d told him about Garibaldi and the men who opposed his takeover of Whispering Woods. If all three had left town under the described circumstances, it would’ve raised a lot of questions for him. As it stood now, the circumstances were still suspicious enough that he wanted to talk to the one who’d stayed behind.
Santa Claus.
At least the idea of interviewing Saint Nick provided some comic relief. All he had to do was ask the pretty waitress for an in.
Brayden snagged his phone from the ground, then made his way back inside, the request on his lips. “Reggie, do you think you could—”
He stopped immediately when he spotted her. She’d tucked her legs up onto the couch and pulled her arms in to her body. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was slow and steady.
“Reggie?” he called softly.
She didn’t stir.
For a second, he contemplated waking her. Even though he was sure she didn’t have a concussion, there was no such thing as being too careful, and there was the phone call he’d asked her to make. He moved toward her. Then stilled again as she let out a little sigh. She was far too peaceful to disturb, and the call could wait and be altered to suit their needs. No one would be looking for her here.
The couch, though, was a cringeworthy place for a solid rest.
Brayden crossed the room, then bent to carefully scoop her up. She mumbled something incoherent, pressed her head against his chest, then settled in like she belonged there.
With his own sigh and a strange tightness in his chest, he carried her from the living room to the bedroom, where he tucked her soundly sleeping form into his own bed. When he was satisfied that she was comfortable, he moved to leave the room. He found that he couldn’t quite do it. So—chalking it up to a need to ensure Reggie’s safety—Brayden settled into the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and closed his own eyes.
Reggie woke with a start, her heart hammering hard against her rib cage. It was utterly dark, and she was in a strange bed. Pushing up in a panic, she whipped her gaze around the room. Nothing was familiar. But when her gaze landed on the hulking form lying next to her, her memory finally did its job and reminded her of the night’s frightening ordeal.
Brayden.
The gunshot.
Chuck.
The run through the forest.
More Brayden. And—
Wait.
What was the big man doing in the bed beside her?
She took a steadying breath and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder lightly. Too lightly. He didn’t move.
“Brayden?”
She waited. Still nothing. She tried a combo instead. Squeezing his elbow and speaking a little louder.
“Brayden.”
And that got a response. Sort of. He rolled to his side, flung an arm over her legs, then slid it up to her hips and dragged her into a backward embrace. Reggie was so startled by the abruptly intimate contact that she let herself be pulled into place without protest. And just like that, she was spooning with a man she barely knew.
But it felt good. Comfortable. His large form was warm and safe, and without meaning to, she wriggled a tiny bit closer, inhaling the woodsy scent that emanated from his body. Her rear end fit snugly against his upper thighs.
More than snugly, really. Perfectly.
It was kind of a strange realization, and it made her heart skitter nervously. With a sigh that had more than a hint of regret, Reggie slipped her hand over top of his and slid it out of its resting place just to the side of her stomach. Very gently, she eased it off and inched away. But when she pushed back into a sitting position again, Brayden’s eyes opened, too, and he blinked at her a little sleepily. He looked rumpled and confused and far sexier than was fair.
“Hey.” His gaze cleared a little as it landed on her. “You better?”
“Better?” she repeated.
He stretched and put one hand behind his head. “Think you were having a bad dream. Sat down beside you to try to wake you up. Kinda grabbed my sweater and held on. You’ve got a heck of a death grip. I must’ve dozed off, too.”
Warmth crept up Reggie’s cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Minor inconvenience,” he teased.
“I actually don’t even remember falling asleep. Wait. What time is it? You wanted me to phone my friend.”
“Decided it could wait.” Brayden rolled over and pulled his phone from the nightstand. “It’s a little after seven in the morning.”
Reggie’s chest squeezed nervously. “Seven? But it’s pitch-black.”
“Room-darkening blinds.” He reached over to the window and flicked open the fabric just enough that a soft light filled the room.
“We slept the whole night?”
“Looks
