Page 67 of Protect Me
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Once he confirmed Timothy wasn’t coming back, Bastian turned around and eyed me.
“You good?”
I nodded.
Dahlia eyed me with concern, gazing between me and Bastian. An unspoken question lingered in the air, to which Bastian nodded. He glanced at his phone, then stuffed it back into his pocket.
“Vik is on his way.” He straightened. “I’ll keep an eye out until he shows up.”
With that, Bastian stationed himself at the door, staring outside, arms folded over his chest.
ChapterSixteen
VIKRAM
Four words on a text from Bastian compelled me to slam my car door and jog through the Frolicking Moose parking lot.
Bastian:Get to the shop.
The coffee shop lay uncannily quiet for the noon hour, the end of Kate’s shift. My heart hammered at the thought that something must be wrong.
I stepped inside to find Bastian only a few steps away, surly as a bear. A scowl crossed his face, brows low over his eyes. Kate sat at a table, her purse on her lap. She’d wrapped her arms around it and hugged it to her chest. Dahlia glanced at me from where she stood at the drive-through, passing a cup through the window. Relief crossed her expression. Tension lay palpable in the air.
A questioning glance to Bastian only returned with a lifted eyebrow and head tilt to Kate. He shuffled back toward his computer in the far corner, but he didn’t sit down. His gaze lingered out the window.
I stepped over to Kate.
“Kate?”
She startled, jerked out of a thought, and blinked at me. A trying smile appeared, then disappeared. She reached out, a hand on my wrist.
“Hey.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I could have—“
“No. Don’t do that. That’s not what we do. Scoot over.”
She shifted across the bench and I slid in. There wasn’t much space, but I had a feeling she wanted it that way. Her thigh pressed up against mine. Her face pale, her color waning. She blinked several times, extricating from thoughts. I put my arm around the back of the bench, though I wanted to drop it to her shoulders.
“What’s going on?” I asked gently.
Her head tilted back. A lock of hair tumbled onto her forehead, almost in her eyes. She swallowed.
“I . . . that is . . . ah . . .”
Kate sighed, her shoulders slumping. Her thick eyelashes fanned against her cheeks, hidden by glasses again. She picked at a string on her purse absently, as if she didn’t even see it.
Her gaze meant mine, pleading. “Can we go somewhere else?” she asked. Her voice shook. “Somewhere where we can talk?”
Something told me this had nothing to do with our explosive first kiss, and everything to do with Timothy Hanover.
“Yes.”
I held out my hand. She hesitated, then slowly slipped her fingers in mine. They braided together, palm to palm.
“I know just the spot.”
My old family canoe rocked in the water.
