Page 93 of At First Smile
My mouth opens but closes with her quick, “No.”
“Okay.” He nods. “Sasha’s waiting to start the ceremony. Do you need a few minutes or?—”
“I’m good,” she says quickly.
Something tightens in my chest. “Are you sure?” I murmur, caressing her cheek.
“Yeah.” She steps back and needlessly runs her hands down her hips to smooth her skirt.
“She’s a badass, your lady.” Admiration shines in Greg’s expression. “Rowan, why don’t you escort Pen while we make sure grown-up Zack Morris over there finds his way to his car.”
With Pen’s hand in mine, we move towards the sidewalk. A glance over my shoulder confirms what I suspected: Alex’s blue eyes are fixed on Pen. A snarl builds in my chest.
“I got this.” Eli places his hand on my shoulder and steps between Alex and me.
Once we reach the sidewalk, Pen lets out a long exhale and slips her hand from mine. In silence, we stroll toward the stage. Sasha’s smile is camera-ready but deep concern shadows her eyes. Like a watchdog ready to rip out the throat of anyone that approaches, I stand at the edge of the stage, my stomach knotted, and every muscle wound tight. Pen – a placid, but pretend, smile anchored on her face – joins her boss, Nelson, and Sasha on stage. Despite everything that just happened she laughs, claps, smiles, and oozes warmth.
Conflicting desires battle within me. To hold her tight, keeping her safe. To ask for answers. Why didn’t she tell me about the flowers…about Alex being back.
After the ceremony, I lurk around Pen while she talks with reporters, families, and her boss. Greg appears, letting me know that Stalker Ken Doll is gone. He and Eli waited in the parking lot until they saw his Tesla leave.
“I know that was hard for you.” Greg squeezes my forearm.
“I’m not the one he’s been stalking,” I mutter, my stare following Pen as Damon tugs her towards a buffet table overflowing with desserts.
“True, but I’m pretty sure it took everything in you to not go caveman on him. I wouldn’t blame you if you had but thank you. You kept my son safe. You made sure nothing marred this event for the families here. Above all, you kept her safe. What you did today protected her more than if you’d have beat his ass.”
“How?”
“She’s reporting him. She’s taking back her power. If you had hit him, that would have been theonlystory, not what really happened.” With a final pat on my arm, Greg rolls towards his son who heaps brownies and cookies onto his plate. “That’s enough, Sugar Ray Leonard,” he tuts.
“Huh?” Damon’s face is quizzical.
“No more sweets,” his dad replies as I move away.
“Can we go, please?” I whisper as I come to Pen’s side.
“Yes.” Her voice is a little unsteady.
Ten minutes later in my SUV, we’re parked in the last row of the parking lot. Pen takes off her sunhat and places it on her lap, her fingers fiddle with its smooth edges. Head tipped down, her long auburn tresses fall over her face.
Brushing her hair away, I clasp her chin between gentle fingers and guide her eyes to me. Tears brim in that honeyed stare. “Talk to me, luv.”
“I am so sorry.” She falls into my arms, sobs wracking her body. “I should have told you about the flowers. He started back up three weeks ago.”
“Three weeks ago? This whole time?” I try to keep my voice calm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She pulls back and wipes at her face. “I thought I could handle it. He’d sent flowers the day my temporary promotion was announced. I’d hoped that would be it, but he sent another dozen last Friday. I sent him a DM telling him to stop and when no flowers showed up, I thought he got the message.” She lets out a beleaguered breath. “Clearly, I was wrong. I feel so stupid.”
“Stop.” I pull her into my chest. “You’re not stupid. You’re also not responsible for his actions.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she croaks.
“Why didn’t you tell me, luv?”
“I don’t want to be rescued… I never meant for you to play white knight, but it happened anyway.”
Pressed tight to my chest, I comb my fingers into her silken hair. “I’m no white knight. When I saw him touch you all I thought was ‘’mine’ and no one touches what is mine.’ White knights don’t think that. White knights don’t fantasize about wrapping their hands around someone’s throat and…”
