Page 34 of Midnight Lessons

With that, he turns and walks out, the bell tinkling softly as he leaves. I hurry to the door, locking it with shaking fingers, my heart racing. Matthew Crane isn’t a jealous ex. He’s deluded. God, I’m an idiot. How did I not see the crazy beneath all that cool, smooth charm?

I pause, biting my lip. Should I go to Sinclair Midnight, the sheriff of Midnight Falls? But what would I say? Matthew never actually admitted to setting up the betting pool—it would be my word against his.

No, I need Owen. A few weeks ago, the thought of calling Owen for help would’ve been ridiculous, but he’s gone above and beyond for me since returning to town.

My hands shake as I snatch up my phone and call him. It rings for what seems like an eternity. I hold my breath, praying he’ll pick up.

“Hey, Low. Sorry, I was in the shower,” he says when he finally answers. “Couldn’t wait until later to hear my voice, huh?” he teases, his deep voice like a life raft in the middle of an endless ocean.

“Owen.” His name comes out as a sigh of relief. “Can you meet me at the bakery?”

“What’s up?” he asks sharply, picking up on my distress. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I’m not physically hurt,” I reassure him. “I’ll tell you when you get here. Come quickly. Please.”

“Hold tight, sweetheart. I’ll be there in five.”

Owen arrives in less than five minutes. I open the door, throwingmyself into his arms.

“It’s okay, Low. I’ve got you. I’m here,” he murmurs, scooping me up in his arms. He moves to a chair and settles me in his lap, his sharp blue eyes sweeping the shop as if checking for threats. Instantly, I feel safe, like nothing bad can happen with him around. “Tell me what happened.”

I spill everything, shedding pounds of worry with every word that leaves my lips—the eerie sense of being followed, Matthew showing up, and what he said about the betting pool.

“Fucker.” Owen curses once I’m done explaining, his expression grim. “Who the hell does he think he is, turning up here like that?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for a year. He said he was passing through on business, but it didn’t seem like a random visit.”

Owen cups my face, holding my gaze. “We’ll handle this together, all right?”

I nod. “I feel better now you’re here. It’s just… it was unsettling seeing him again. He was so cold, so smug.”

“This whole online betting pool thing has gone well beyond a sick prank. I think we should callSheriff Midnight. Tell him what’s been going on. At least that way, he has all the facts and can be on the lookout. And I’ll call Mark again to see if he has any more info. If Matthew is behind this, we’ll nail the bastard, Low, I promise,” Owen says, kissing my forehead.

His promise is a balm to the raw edges of my fear. He’s right. This whole situation is out of control.

“We should consider getting some security cameras in here and at your place,” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world to protect me. “And change the locks to be on the safe side. You shouldn’t feel unsafe in here or your own place.”

I raise an eyebrow. “We?”

He clears his throat, her cheeks reddening. “You. I meant you.”

I grin. “I’m teasing. I like this whole ‘we’ thing.”

He drops his forehead to mine. “Me too, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, O. When you came back, I told you I didn’t need your help. I was still angry and bitter,but now…” I trail off, trying to put my emotions into words.

“You had every right to be mad and bitter, Low. But that was then, and this is now. I know you can take care of yourself; you always have. But sometimes”—he kisses my nose—“even beautiful little cookie-decorating bakers need someone to watch their back. And I’ve got yours.”

I frown. “I’m hardly little. And I think you’re stretching it a bit with beautiful.”

“You’ve always been the most beautiful woman in the world to me, Low. Theonlywoman.” His big hand falls to my hip, squeezing. “And I forbid you to lose these curves because they drive me fucking insane,” he groans, shifting me in his lap so I can feel his thick erection.

He kisses my neck. “Now, how about we grab takeaway from Lou’s Burger Shack and watch one of those cheesy 80s shows you love at yours?”

I laugh, my tension melting away, making Matthew’s shadow seem a little less dark. “That sounds perfect.”

Chapter 12

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