More Than Protect You (More Than Words #6.5) - Shayla Black Page 0,38

heard from your dad that someone attacked you last night. Are you okay?

Fine. Thanks.

Let me protect you. Tell me where you’re staying. I need to see you, to talk to you about us. You shouldn’t have to protect Oliver alone. I’ll be there for you.

We’re friends, Bruce. I’m not ready to talk about more. I’ve hired a bodyguard, so I’m safe. Don’t worry. We’ll talk when I’m home.

I’m not giving up on you.

Mandy didn’t reply after that, and this asswipe is texting her again. Doesn’t he know when to quit?

She may not be cynical enough to question whether this jackhole is being paid to care so damn much, but I am. Sure, I understand why a father may want to make sure that his daughter finds a good husband. But Douglas Lund is going about this like a controlling bastard who didn’t like Mandy’s previous decisions so he’s decided to make her future ones for her.

It’s not going to happen, pal.

I darken her phone, traipse back down the hall, and after a pause to ensure she’s still sleeping peacefully, I grab some clean boxers and find the bathroom on the other end of the villa. After a short, scalding shower, I arrange my Glock beside the mattress, within easy reach, then fall onto the inflatable again, lace my fingers across my stomach, and stare at the ceiling, wide awake. I’m hyperaware of Mandy in the next room.

It’s going to be a long night.

Somewhere after midnight, I finally drift off and have a few weird-ass dreams I barely remember. I don’t know why I’m suddenly awake. Then I hear footsteps in the hallway just outside the room. I tense and reach for the weapon, pointing it at the doorway just in time to see a shape emerge from the shadows toward me.

“Tanner?”

“Mandy,” I breathe and shove the gun aside. “Something wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Despite her exhaustion? I get to my feet and grope unsuccessfully for my T-shirt and shorts. “You afraid, baby? Don’t be. You’re safe. I’m making sure of it.”

She fumbles through the dark until she grabs my hand. “I…I need you.”

Given how independent she’s had to be since Oliver’s birth and how difficult it is for her to trust, admitting that couldn’t have been easy.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” She tugs on my hand and leads me toward her bedroom.

“Let me grab my clothes.”

“No. Now. Please.”

There’s a note of need in her voice that pulls at me. I grab my Glock. “Would you feel better if I checked all the doors and windows again? Went through the house, top to bottom, to make sure we’re alone?”

“I’m not afraid of an intruder right now.” She reaches the side of the bed and flips on the nearby lamp. She’s looking right at me. “I’m afraid of how I feel.”

Tears sheen her eyes, and I can’t resist setting my weapon down and cupping her cheek. “Why?”

“I swore I’d never fall for anyone again, and in one day you’re about to make a liar out of me. I feel so close to falling…”

Is she serious? My heart revs. I take her other cheek in my palm until I’m cradling her face and staring into her eyes. “You don’t have to be afraid. Go ahead and fall as hard as you want. I’ll catch you.”

“It’s not that simple.” She presses her lips together like she’s fighting not to let those tears roll down her cheeks. “You don’t know…”

“Then tell me.”

Mandy looks torn. “You may not look at me the same after you know the whole truth.”

Is she talking about Barclay? Is she going to divulge the details about their affair? Has she decided to give us a chance? “Yes, I will.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

The self-defeat in her tone hurts. “You can tell me anything, baby. As long as we’re communicating, it’s going to be fine. What do you need to talk about?”

“We shouldn’t go any farther until you know what happened with Barclay. And if you can’t forgive me, I’ll understand.”

I can’t imagine why she thinks the story will make a damn bit of difference to me. But the look on her face says she’s terrified it will.

“I just appreciate the truth.” I guide her to sit on the mattress, then sink down beside her. “Go ahead.”

She wrings her hands and takes a deep breath. “I always had a thing for Barclay Reed. I think I was…ten, maybe, when I first thought about him romantically. That sounds silly, but I mean in a first-crush, teen-heartthrob kind of way. I had